Heels click along the floor from a distance and then the young woman that was in my room not too long ago walks in from what I assume is another kitchen. I hear dishes clanking and people talking.
She slows her pace as she spots me, looking me over in my new attire.
She doesn’t make a disgusted face. She looks surprised.
“Can I eat?” I ask softly.
She scrutinizes me briefly before pointing her gaze to the table. She then looks at the butler who has a few dirty dishes in hand and murmurs something to him in Spanish.
The butler nods and then takes off, whistling in cue as he enters the kitchen.
Before I know it, at least four more men come out and collect the food that’s on the table. They grab the empty bowls, plates, and silverware but I rush forward before they can escape.
“Hey—wait!” I shout, but they merely ignore my plea, heading towards the kitchen without so much as a glance my way. “What the fuck!” I snap at her. “What did you tell them? I haven’t eaten yet!”
She picks up a biscuit from the last tray on the table. “You aren’t supposed to.”
“What?” My voice is laced with utter disbelief.
I shove past her and pick up a biscuit. She smacks it out of my hand and then picks up the tray. “You aren’t supposed to eat,” she bites. “If he finds out you’ve eaten on my watch, he’ll punish me too.”
“I don’t care. Starving me is cruelty,” I seethe, rubbing the back of my hand. “I didn’t know what time it was.”
“Get used to it.” Her eyes drop down to my chest and I back away, folding my arms.
She trots around the table and into the kitchen. When she’s gone, I stare down at the empty table. There are only crumbs left, and my heart cracks in my chest.
Tears blind me, but I won’t stick around here for them to see.
This is bullying. Pure ignorance. I twist around and storm out of the dining room, but due to my lack of attention, I run right into a sculpted, broad chest.
Large hands grip my upper arms, and I gasp as I look up and meet familiar, dark brown eyes.
Draco.
I yank out of his oddly gentle grasp, scowling up at him.
His face remains even, his lips meshing together.
“I didn’t get to eat,” I say without thinking.
“I don’t admire tardiness,” he informs me again, and then he steps around me, continuing his walk down the hallway. I watch him descend the hall and take the staircase down that leads to his art room. Not once does he look back at me.
My heart pounds erratically in my chest. Sniffling, I swipe my face before running down the hallway and up the stairs. There are maids and butlers around, but none of them look me in the face.
I bet they are trained to ignore stuff like this.
A lonely, desperate woman basically crying out for help. I go past six doors and burst into the seventh bedroom. This is the safest place as of now…but for how long?
When will he take this from me too?
I won’t be like that bitch that was here this morning. I won’t appreciate any of this. I won’t cater to that demonic man.
All he has done is taken from me. His men have abused me, and now he’s starving me.
Shit, he won’t have to protect me for long. Before we know it, I’ll be dead trying to make it out alive.
God.
I just want to go home.
To my surprise, an alarm clock is delivered to my room. Unfortunately, the tall, skinny man with the white hair is the deliverer.
“Here.” He drops it on the bed, standing close, looking at my bare legs. “Plug it in.”
I look down at the alarm clock. It’s black with silver buttons. Picking it up, I stand and turn for the nightstand. There is an outlet behind it, so I pull the stand forward a bit to reach it.
As I bend down, I feel him looking at my ass. He’s so close to me. My heartbeat accelerates, and not in a good way. I jam the plug into the outlet and then pull back, standing up straight and backing away.
“What time is it?” I ask, tilting my chin and gesturing towards his watch.
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “How about you find out for yourself.” He grabs my tender wrist and yanks me forward. His rough hands run up my forearm and I nearly stop breathing as his face comes in closer.
I focus on the floor. Bringing his wrist up, he says, “Look.”
My eyes drift down to the black leather watch. I take note of the time and then pull away from him, turning around and punching it into the alarm clock. I sit slowly, and he chuckles beneath his breath.