Chapter 9

I wasn't in the mood to see anyone when Dolores came to get me for breakfast, but I made an effort. I paired some of the new jeans with a simple, soft black t-shirt. Thankfully, Dolores had also added a few bras to my clothing.

I had assumed I would eat alone, but Dolores was taking me to the kitchen. As we walked in, we found Alejandro standing there with a woman passionately kissing him. Dolores cleared her throat to announce our presence—she was clearly not pleased with what she was seeing. Alejandro quickly pulled away from the woman and looked up.

I felt my stomach drop with a tightening in my chest. The woman turned around, looking at me with a curious smile. She was a beautiful woman with thick black hair, small breasts, and wide hips. She was wearing very fit jeans and a red t-shirt that put her breast tastefully on display and looked great against her tan skin. She had five-inch, red stilettos on. She seemed familiar to me.

"Well, well, well," she said, "she looks a lot cleaner than the last time I saw her trembling on the floor."

"Karina," said Alejandro, a warning in his tone, "it"s time for you to go."

It was the woman from the previous house—the one who had attacked me countless times.

"I know," she said, turning back to face him. "I don't want to be late. Thank you for an amazing welcome home last night," she said, leaning toward him to kiss him again. Alejandro let her do so and gently pulled away.

As Karina was leaving, she violently elbowed me in my left side. I pivoted, ready for battle, but Karina paid me no mind. Instead, she continued walking to the door.

I felt like heat was emanating out of my body. I straightened my face, trying to look as emotionless as possible as I followed Dolores. Dolores made me sit down and declined the help I offered to make breakfast. I obeyed, as I felt capable of hitting Alejandro with a pan if I had it in my hands. I refused to look his way. Although, I could feel his gaze burning through me. He sat down next to me silently, leaning forward on the table in my direction.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning." I was too prideful to let him understand how much seeing him with another woman had frustrated me.

"How are you?"

"As good as I can be," I admitted. He didn't get upset at my comment. He just shook his head in understanding.

I now understood that my plan to seduce and outwit him may be harder than I originally thought.

When Dolores put my eggs in front of me, I put all my energy into eating, even if I wasn't hungry. I had to find a way to remain calm and distract myself from the drowning heartache suffocating me.

Once Dolores was done serving the food, she quickly left the kitchen. The tension in the room was palpable, like an invisible electric current coursing through the air.

Alejandro and I ate in silence. I knew he was looking at me, searching for my eyes, but I couldn't look at him. I just couldn't stand the sight of him. When I was done eating, I got up from my chair.

"Wait," said Alejandro, standing up. I stopped. "About last night…"

"I don't need to hear anything," I said. "I couldn"t care less about anything that happened last night."

"You don't?" he asked, walking closer to me.

"Why would I?" I aggressively asked, taking a step back. "You are simply a criminal who not only kidnaps women but dares to touch them as you please."

"Amelia, we both know that's not true," he said, his voice low and deep as he reached out for me.

I backed up again. If I let him touch me, I didn't trust how I would react.

"Not true?" I scoffed, laughing mockingly. "Do you think I enjoy spending time with you—or really doing anything with you, for that matter? I don't have a choice!" I lied. "I am being held captive here by a criminal, against my will, remember?! My family and fiancé are probably out there, worried sick."

I made sure to emphasize the fiancé I wasn't sure he knew about. At that point, I was mustering up any anger that I could find. I was hurt because I was starting to trust Alejandro—against my better judgment—but he couldn't care less. I screamed, purposely pushing my nails into my palms to stop the burn behind my eyes from continuing any further. The last thing I needed right now were angry tears embarrassing me.

Alejandro pulled back from me, his lips tight, his eyes suddenly cold and empty. He put his hands in his pockets.

"You sure seemed to enjoy it," he pointed out coldly.

I rolled my eyes.

"I wouldn't be the first woman to fake doing so," I seethed between my teeth.

I saw his nostrils open wide and his jaw tighten as he raised his head, a look of pure anger in his eyes.

"Don't follow me," I warned as I started leaving the room. "I am going back to my lovely prison cell. Dolores can come lock me in as usual."

I walked out, my hands slightly trembling, but I was proud of myself, even as I heard his mocking laugh resonate behind me. I almost ran to the bedroom when I was no longer in his sight. I got to the room and started pacing angrily.

I closed my eyes, trying to erase the image of that woman kissing him, rubbing her toned body all over him. That woman, Karina, was the one who had treated me like trash when I got abducted. I recognized her name and her voice. And of course, she was his girl. She was the reason why Dolores urgently interrupted us the night before probably Alejandro had left me to go to her, and as Karina had insinuated, they had spent the night together.

The pain I was feeling was well deserved, because I must have been out of my darn mind and borderline delirious for thinking that a man like Alejandro would take me seriously, and I was borderline psychopathic for wanting him to.

Last night, I had, for a few seconds, allowed myself to get confused, to lose sight of my end goal, just for a little bit. I hated him with all my heart, for kidnapping me, for playing with me, for making me weak––even for just a moment.

But no more.

I would not allow myself to lust so much for such a despicable person. Because that was all this was—lust for a man who did not deserve anything from me. My games had somehow turned against me, but he wouldn't win. I would get a grip on the situation.

I needed something to keep myself occupied. Being left alone for so long with my imagination was torture and probably the reason why this man managed to have such an impact on me in the first place. I had made and remade the bed, cleaned my bathroom, washed and straightened my hair, and refolded my clothes. I was going mad.

In one of the vanity drawers, I found some office supplies, including a notepad and pens. I sat at the vanity and started to write, pouring all of my frustration, anger, and confusion through the ink. I always did that when I was overwhelmed about something. It was my own way to open up while sharing my troubles with the silent pages of what normally would be my diary. Putting ink on paper always soothed me, provided me with peace, clarity, and even closure. It was therapeutic for me. I wasn't the writer in my group of friends, but no skills were needed to write one's inner thoughts. I was so focused that I barely heard when Dolores entered the room, bringing me some food on a tray.

It was nine p.m. when I realized that I had been writing all day, only taking breaks to eat or use the bathroom. I needed some fresh air, so I decided to grab a glass of water and sit on the patio. The weather here in the month of July was still warm, and it had rained all day. I was enjoying the unusual cooler night, with the smell of wet soil still softly filling the air. I loved the little balcony, just sitting there, breathing it all in, and staring at a sky full of stars. It was beautiful and peaceful. One did not get clear skies like this in LA, with the pollution in California.

Every night that I stepped on that balcony I was in awe. It felt wide, spacious, suburban, relaxing, even in my circumstance. I got distracted when I saw a couple guards doing their nightly walks. I had been quite annoyed the first time I had seen them just randomly appear and disappear, interrupting my view, reminding me that I wasn't on vacation. I would never be able to escape from this house—at least, it wouldn't be easy.