Page 23 of Claimed By the Silver Fox

When I first met Andreo, I was so convinced that I would make a different life with him than the one my mom had made with my father. Because Andreo treated me so much better than my father ever had my mother, or the other way around, for that matter. He pampered me with gifts, got me anything I wanted, booked me fancy dates at expensive restaurants—made an effort with me, in a way I had never seen with my own parents.

And I had been so sure that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes, that I would never end up spitting the same venom that my parents had, that I fell for it. Let myself get drawn into it. Until what was left of my life just fell away, and all that was left was him—hardly any friends, no education, no work experience on my resume, aside from the coffee shop waitressing gig I did straight out of high school that Andreo had assured me I didn’t need because he was there to take care of me now. It had seemed like a damn fairy tale, but…

But now I can see it for what it was. Control.

The same control, actually, that his father seems so intent on exerting over me now. And this time, I’m not just going to submit to it like I did the last time. No, this time, I’m digging my heels in, making a scene, doing whatever it takes to keep my head above water. And that starts right now, as I find a way out of this mansion and into the fresh air once more.

I prop the door of my room open slightly and peep outside. The camera winks down at me from the end of the darkened corridor, but I pay it no mind. I can only imagine that Antonio is watching somewhere, but he can’t keep an eye on me all the time, right? And the guard in this hallway right now is Paulo, who seems to be one of the least restrictive of the dozen or so who rotate out around this place. I’ve gotten to know all of them, speaking to them all in turn, figuring out who might be a little more permissive and who’s going to uphold Antonio’s rules as though they are the most important things in the world.

I plaster a smile on my face and start to move toward the end of the corridor, biting my lip and widening my eyes in an attempt to earn some sympathy should anyone see me. I doubt that it will be forthcoming, given that I’ve had pretty much everything taken care of since the second I set foot in here—every meal cooked for me, every piece of clothing provided to me, even books and movies uploaded onto a laptop for me to keep myself entertained. Really, I shouldn’t be searching so keenly for a way out, but I just can’t stand the thought of staying in these walls another second.

The window at the end of my bed looks out on to an enormous garden, which is practically glowing with greenery—trees heavy with leaves, flowers dotting the beds. I’ve been aching for days now to feel it under my feet, the warmth of the direct sun on my skin, and I have resolved to test the bounds of everything Antonio has put in place. Mustering as much courage as I can, I attempt to breeze past Paulo in the hopes that he won’t even bother to stop me.

But a moment later, I hear a voice calling out to me. “Hey, Julia!”

I stop in my tracks, wincing, and then turn to him with as big a smile as I can muster.

“Oh, hey, Paulo,” I say, fluttering my lashes at him. I’ve never been above flirting to get what I want, and that sure as hell is not going to change now.

He narrows his eyes at me, looking me up and down. “You okay?” he asks, with obvious incredulity.

I nod, and then shake my head, as though confessing some deep-seated secret to him.

“You know, I’m actually feeling kind of…rough today,” I admit, taking another step toward him. I made sure to go heavy on the perfume when I was fresh out of the shower this morning, intending to throw everything in my arsenal at this man in the hopes of tasting that fresh air once more.

The furrows in his brow deepen. “Oh, yeah? How so?”

I sigh, looking away from him. “Oh, you probably don’t want to hear it…”

“Julia, I’m meant to be here to look out for you,” he reminds me, his voice dropping slightly, softening. “Now, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I was just…looking at the garden, from the bedroom,” I explain, gesturing back along the corridor. “And it’s so pretty this time of year. I was just hoping…God, that I could get out and pick a few flowers, something to bring back to my room, you know?”

I stare up at him hopefully, letting my hair fall into my face, trying to make myself look as innocent and hopeful as possible. He glances toward the door, and I can see something in him wavering, even as he tries to dig his heels in.

“You know I’m not supposed to let you out of here…”

“Yeah, I know that,” I assure him. “But it would only be for a few minutes, and I promise I would be back soon. Nobody would even have to know about it, right? If I could just…” I let the words linger in the air, and he stares down at me, calculating.

“Do you have a daughter?” I ask him, trying to change my approach.

He doesn’t reply.

“Because, you know, if you did, you wouldn’t want her locked up inside all day, would you?” I point out. “You’d want her to be able to get out and enjoy the real world. Besides, it’s just for a few minutes. Nothing longer than that.”

“Nothing longer?”

I can tell he’s wavering, about to give in. Of course, I am mostly telling him the truth. I will be back soon. At least, this time.

This first attempt is just about me getting out into the world, seeing if I can escape the confines of this place, even for a few minutes. It’s not going to be for long, but I can prove to myself that there’s hope. And if I can get out once, then I can get out again, and if I can get out again, I might be able to make it longer, further, until this place is in my rearview mirror entirely.

If Antonio isn’t going to grant me a reprieve, then I guess I’m going to have to do it for myself…

“Five minutes,” Paulo tells me, and I clap my hands together, playing at childlike glee, since that seems to work on him.

“Oh, thank you!” I gush, and I lean up to pull him into a hug. When I pull back, I notice that he’s slightly red around his collar, and he doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Come on,” he tells me gruffly. “Before I change my mind⁠—”