Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Taking him by surprise.
“Well, guess what? I’m not going to make it easy for you.”
He instantly stood, pushing back the armchair from the impact of his abrupt stance. It skidded across the floor. I would have fallen on my ass had I not expected his reaction.
“Go to fucking sleep,” he snapped, walking out of the room. Slamming the door behind him.
I smiled.
For the first time since I had been there, I fucking smiled. Lying back down in my bed, I snuggled into my pillow and comforter, feeling happy and content with myself. I took a deep, liberating breath. Allowing the pills to take me under, and I would succumb to a good night’s sleep. Finally. Dreaming of the green-eyed man who had captured my heart.
Knowing as I soon as I passed out, he would come back in. Pull up his chair next to my bed.
To watch over me.
My dark angel.
Three months went by at a slow and steady pace. I felt every second, every minute, every hour, counting down the days until he said I could leave. I wanted to be able to step outside and soak up the sun without having to worry about getting killed. Most of all, I couldn’t wait to dance again. This was the longest I had gone without dancing.
Living in this penthouse was starting to take a toll on me. I may have been physically healed, but mentally and emotionally, I was far more messed up than I ever was before. I never realized how much I truly hated being by myself. Maybe I was too distracted with ballet to notice the absence of people around me, before but I found myself craving conversation and human interaction. Dance was my entire life, my escape from reality, my happy place. Where there was no negativity, no violence, no memories…but it was also a lonely place.
My whole life.
After I fully recovered, I started leaving my room. Venturing out into the penthouse, since I wasn’t permitted to go outside. Martinez said it wasn’t safe yet. He was handling it as fast as he could, but it was going to take time. The only problem was he didn’t know how much time, and I was slowly losing myself.
At times, I wandered around aimlessly through his penthouse in hopes that maybe I would find him. That maybe we could talk again, even though all we seemed to do was fight. I was lonely, and could have really used some company.
I barely ever saw him, though. He was there less and less as the days went on, never telling me where he was going, or when he would be back. We never talked about had happened that night, both in denial, both pretending. We barely exchanged more than a few words when our paths crossed and that was mostly him telling me I still couldn’t leave, it still wasn’t safe, and the men looking for me hadn’t given up yet. I hadn’t seen or heard any more sexcapades either since the second night I was there, thank God for small miracles.
A woman did show up late one night, knocking on his door as I walked toward the kitchen to get some water. I opened it without thinking, much to his disapproval. She looked young, maybe a few years older than me. I didn’t have to question if she was one of his random whores, she had his eyes. At first I thought it might be his daughter, but he dismissed me before I could ask her who she was. My curiosity got the best of me though and decided since he wouldn’t give me any answers I should get them on my own. Instead of heading back to my room, I lingered around the hallway. Their conversation seemed tense and made me slightly uncomfortable but my instinct was right, they were related. She was his niece, Briggs. They didn’t seem to have a loving relationship, which didn’t surprise me in the least. She stayed at his penthouse for a few days, never leaving her room. I didn’t see her again, and he never mentioned her after that.
Anything I needed or wanted was delivered right to my room at any point in time. Even though he made sure I was well cared for, he never fulfilled my one desire that would cost him nothing.
Companionship.
All I really wanted or needed was for him to keep me company, even if words weren’t spoken. I still felt him at night, watching me sleep. Every time I opened my eyes to catch him sitting there.
He wasn’t.
I guess loneliness could make you imagine what you truly wanted, and I still wanted him. So fucking much. The sad part was, for the first time in my life, I felt safe. With him. Which confused me more than anything.