“I’m eighteen, not that it’s any of your business and I want to go home."
"Can't help you there." I open the cabinet where I keep the good whiskey and pour myself a liberal glass of Scotch. "Kitchen's over there if you get hungry. I keep it stocked with groceries. Don't burn the place down if you get the urge to cook."
"That's it? You're not going to tie me up? Lock me in a room?"
"Why would I waste the effort? There’s nowhere for you to run." I settle back in my chair with my drink. "Besides, if you pass out from not eating, I’ll have to deal with dragging your unconscious ass around. It’s better for you to take care of yourself. Don’t expect me to wait on you hand and foot like a maid."
She stares at me like she expected something different. "You expect me to make myself at home?"
"The only thing I expect you to do is stay alive, stay out of my way and stop asking so many goddamn questions."
"You're not even going to watch me? Make sure I don't try to escape?"
I laugh at that. “This place is more secure than your daddy's compound. Motion sensors, cameras, locked gates. If you try to leave, I'll know about it before you get fifty feet."
"But you won’t stop me?"
"Why would I waste my energy or time chasing you down in the woods? If you want to feed yourself to the wildlife while running in fuck-me heels, that's between you and natural selection. There’s only so much I can do."
She opens the refrigerator and takes out a packaged sandwich. After peeling off the wrapper, she takes a small bite,probably to prove she's not completely powerless. But once she starts eating, she devours the whole thing like she hasn’t eaten all day.
"Feel better?" I ask when she's done.
"A little." She wipes her mouth with the napkin I provided. "Thank you."
We sit in silence for a few minutes. Viviana keeps looking around the room like she's trying to memorize every detail, and I keep trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with her.
Now that she’s here, I’m realizing quickly this was probably a very bad idea.
The original plan was simple, grab Roberto's daughter, use her as leverage to prevent a war between our families. But now that I've got her, the plan seems a lot more complicated.
"Damon?" she says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to hurt me?"
The question catches me off guard. Not because she's asking it, but because of the way she's asking it. Like she's not sure she wants to know the answer, but needs to ask it anyway.
I frown at her. "No, why the fuck would I do that? Hurting you is not the plan."
"Promise?"
"I don't make promises. But I will tell you this, as long as you're under my protection, nobody else will dare to touch you."
She nods slowly, and I see some of the tension leave her shoulders. "Okay. But I'm a prisoner?"
"You're my responsibility. There's a difference." I finish my whiskey and set the glass down on the table. "A prisoner is someone you want to keep locked up. A responsibility is someone you're trying to keep alive."
"And which one am I again?"
I look at her sitting there in her rumpled club dress, mascara smeared, hair messed up from the struggle at the club. Eighteen years old and probably the most innocent person I've ever had to protect.
"Jury's still out on that one, sweetheart. That’s enough fucking questions for tonight."
Chapter 5: Viviana
I wake up the next morning to the sound of weights clinking somewhere in the house.
