I stand up, and I notice Dante standing right where he was before. I didn’t hear him coming. Fuck, he sure can be quiet.
“Magno,” I call him.
His fierce eyes look at me immediately; I feel he was praying for me, to speak to him.
“I trust you’ll take care of her.”
“Of course, sir,” he bows and returns to his position. He barely looks at me and that pierces my heart.
I need you to look at me, Dante; I need you to wake up.
As soon as I leave the room, I feel the bubbling fire I felt before. I need to clench my teeth in an effort to hide the wrath. That kid is leaving with me tonight.
Kaled takes me to his father's office, an area of the house I haven't being to yet. We walk down a narrow corridor; the walls are not so neat and pretty anymore.
You can see some marks on the wall.
Are those human scratches?
There are also some really disturbing Renaissance paintings and a worn wine-red carpet.
As soon as the firstborn opens a heavy door, I find Razzag sitting behind a big dark wooden desk. I honestly did not imagine seeing this decoration, so classic English.
There is a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf behind him. The carpet is now a dark green, and the furniture is made of shiny dark wood. Everything is absolutely the opposite of what the mansion’s vibe.
“Mr. Cox!” He shouts with his uninhibited joy. “Please sit down, welcome to my little man cave,” he laughs with complicity.
I sit in front of him.
Kaled sits to Razzag's right but Wasim leans on the wall nearest the door and watches me from afar.
“As you can see, my office is my little temple; no one comes into this room. I have many mansions within the complex but this room is the most...welcoming one could say, I never really knew why.”
“It's probably because of the lack of sound,” I answer defiantly.
Yeah, motherfucker, I'm trying to trigger you and I'm just getting started.
“Maybe you're right, I like privacy. I enjoy being able to live without giving explanations to anybody, and sometimes all the yelling and the crying creates a negative mood in the house.”
He’s talking about his slaves, probably being raped or killed in this fucking place.
“I understand.” I say trying to empathize with him, “Privacy is freedom.”
“Exactly,” He gets up from his chair and walks to the right side of the desk; my eyes don't lose sight of him. “Would you like a drink?”
Another test?
“No thanks, I'm the designated driver today.”
“Oh! Right...Anya, sweet Anya, I'm still amazed by such beauty, what do you think Wasim? Isn't she beautiful?” he asks while he sits his fat ass back on the big couch.
“She sure is,” agrees the creepy, repulsive son.
Razzag brings the glass to his lips, he’s drinking in front of me, watching me in defiance. He’s trying to show me the level of authority he has in this country.
“Must be a real luxury to have a woman like that, so domesticated, huh, Mr. Cox?”
This is where I start to worry.
