I don’t want him sad and disappointed.And I do.And I don’t know which is the truth.
“Most of it needs to be washed before I can wear it,” I say, being practical, offering an answer that won’t make him more disappointed.“Especially the underwear.”
He gives me a fond little smile, wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head.I melt into him willingly.I don’t want to.And I do.
“Then just put on one of the evening dresses,” he says.“No need for underwear.”
I turn rigid and move away from him.“Why?”
“Because we’re going out to dinner,” he says.“I’m starving and you must be too.”
“We can just eat in,” I say although the idea of a meal in one of those LA restaurants where you run into celebrities sounds like a very good idea too and something I would very much like to do.In my old life, anyway.
He shakes his head, smiling fondly again.“Not unless you’re in the mood for more protein bars.And I know how much you love those.”
I roll my eyes the way I always do when he presents me with one of those as a meal.
“I’ll see to getting a housekeeper and some staff tomorrow,” he says.“They can wash your clothes too.But for tonight, I’m in the mood to take you out.I’ll be back in an hour.”
This time he doesn’t wait for my answer before striding back into the room.And the only reason I’m not saying anything is because what I actually want to say is, “Yes, I’ll be ready in an hour.”
He turns and looks back at me.“And please make yourself look gorgeous.”
I scoff.“What?I’m not pretty enough for you like this now?”
He chuckles.“Oh, you can come as you are now, I’ll be perfectly happy with that.Just thought maybe you’d want to do it for yourself.Like you used to.”
Then he’s gone.The door closes behind him and I don’t hear the lock.My throat is all closed up so I’m happy he didn’t wait for me to say anything more.
Like I used to…
He’s not wrong about that.I used to spend hours and hours doing my makeup, arranging my hair just so, picking the perfect outfits.
As shallow as it was, I loved it.
And why shouldn’t I look gorgeous even now, in my downfall, in my captivity?
Why shouldn’t I feel as good as I can?Why shouldn’t I look like a queen while he takes me down?Show the world I am unbroken?
Doesn’t mean I forgive him.Doesn’t mean I accept him.Doesn’t mean I love him.
I don’t know if that’s the truth or just lies.But I can live with that.I have to.
Chapter8
MATTEO
Seeing her standing there,in the middle of my parents’ bedroom, wearing a simple black dress with a slit almost to her hip, stilettos for miles, golden hair perfectly styled, falling in soft golden waves across her bare shoulders, her eyes and whole face shimmering, took my breath away.And my reason.Because all I wanted to do was rip the dress right off her, like I promised her I would when she wore black.And it wouldn’t be because she’s wearing black.Or because I’m sure she’s wearing nothing underneath it.
But she’s the perfect combination of black and gold as it is.And she’s gone to so much trouble making herself look nice like I wanted.
I can wait a few more hours to have her.It’ll be the sweetest torture.Probably more torture than sweetness.But I’m getting used to that.Growing to like it.
“Are you satisfied?”she asks and twirls around since I’m just standing there, my mouth probably hanging open as I try to remember how to draw a breath.
I nod, can’t actually speak yet.But then I manage to clear my throat just enough to say, “Hold on.”
I walk to the painting of a sailboat at sea, commissioned from one famous artist or another back in the day.I take it off the wall unceremoniously and open the safe behind it.This safe still contains all my mother’s jewelry, just as the closets in this room still hold all her clothes.My father sealed off this room after she died and never went in again.Except sometimes, in the dead of night, when he didn’t know anyone was watching.It was the only time I’d ever seen my father cry and the memory still doesn’t sit well with me.Like that one tear in a beautiful painting, or a scratch in an otherwise perfect marble table.But my mother’s death was like that for all of us.It forever tore everything apart.
