The words slip out unintentionally. I’m losing control over myself in this stressful situation.
He narrows his eyes. Nothing else on his face changes, yet it’s enough to make me sweat.
“This is the first and last time you talk back,” he vows, his tone utterly harsh. “Next time, I’ll cut out your tongue.”
I look down. No one has ever spoken to me like this, and the experience is degrading. I feel like crying, overwhelmed by the situation, but I won’t let any tears fall. My father has always said that vulnerability makes an enemy powerful.
When footsteps enter the room, I look up. More than ten men and just as many women stand before me. Their uniforms tell me they’re security and servants.
“What does your father call you?” my kidnapper drawls.
I look at him, away from the sea of people.
“Princess.”
My tongue slips again. Horror rushes through my mind. I’ve given the wrong answer. That’s not what Uncle calls Avi. And if he knows even the slightest bit about them, he knows it, because Uncle calls her Pumpkin in front of everyone.
“And Pum—” I try to addPumpkin, but his words cut me off.
“Everyone will call her Princess,” he announces, glancing back at them.
I sigh a little, telling my racing heart that I didn’t fuck up.
His eyes return to me. “While using her as a slave.”
My eyes widen. He stares into them for a second, telling me without words how disgusted he is by me, before getting up from his chair and turning toward his people.
“Give her every job you don’t want. I don’t want to see her idle for a single minute.”
They all nod.
“I refuse to do that,” I protest.
He nods. “Alexie, send her back to the basement.”
My heart stills at the mention of that place.I’m not going to die there in the cold. My family would be devastated.
Dying with pride sounds noble, unless you have people who would be shattered by your death. I can’t be selfish enough to do that. I’ll only consider death as an option if—and only if—they try to assault me.
“Fine. I agree,” I grit out.
His face shows no hint of change, he doesn’t even glance at me.
“Nivi, give her your old uniforms.”
A woman of my height and size nods, glancing at me. An unkind emotion lights her face—the same one that fills everyone in this room. They all hate me for a reason I don’t even know.What could Uncle have done for them to hate him and his daughter this much?I’m not oblivious to what my family does. I know every man in my family is a criminal, but I can’t think of a crime terrible enough to warrant this.
They all leave the room. Only the older man stays behind. His face holds none of the same hatred. He comes closer and stops in front of me.
“This is your room. There is no bathroom, but you may use the one down the hall.”
“What did my father do?” I ask as I get up.
My legs ache, making it difficult to stand—a lingering effect of the cold, I think.
“I can’t tell you that, signorina.”
“Are you Italian?” I noticed his accent the first time he spoke, and now this title.
