I look at Francesca. She angrily pushes out of her chair, storming towards the door. She’s gone before I know it.
I pick up my juice and drink some of it. I won’t pass up the opportunity to eat. I will eat as much as I can, but I have to admit that I’m afraid of what’s to come.
What does he have in mind?
What will he do?
What if he slices our throats one by one? What if he rapes us while making us watch?
Suddenly, my appetite is lost. I finish my juice and then push out of my chair, walking out of the dining hall and towards the stairs without looking back. I can feel Mrs. Molina watching.
As I walk up, I see the white haired man. Or Bain, as they call him.
He passes by me with a smirk on his lips, like he wanted this to happen.
Fucking asshole.
It’s like he wants Draco to let me off his leash, just so he can do whatever he wants with me. He knows that once Draco is fed up with me, I’ll be on my own. I won’t be protected…and Bain will take full advantage of that.
Those two hours Draco granted us roll by way too quickly.
With each minute that ticks by on the alarm clock, I can feel my pulse accelerating. My heart is slamming in my chest when the final minute appears.
I haven’t changed clothes.
I’m wearing the same thing.
I was too nervous to even bother.
I walk down the marble staircase and it’s much quieter in the house now. I don’t see any maids or butlers around. I don’t even see any of his men. Did he want it this way?
The hallways are clear, the long corridor that leads the way to the art room vacant.
I take the next set of stairs gradually.
I can hear classical music playing from a distance.
He’s in there.
I can sense him.
My feet drag towards the door. It’s cracked open and I’m sure that’s on purpose. When I open it and peek in, Draco is standing in front of a canvas that is covered in red, black, and yellow colors.
Francesca is already here, sitting on a stool in the corner.
Her eyes shift up to mine and she presses her lips. The look in her eyes is upsetting to bear witness to. She’s just as nervous as I am, I know it.
“Shut the door.” Draco’s voice echoes across the large room.
I shut the door and he turns halfway, walking to the stereo system in the wall and turning the music down a notch. He looks over his shoulder at me, his hard eyes watching intently.
“Upstairs,” he commands. “Both of you.”
I look up, remembering the bed that’s up there.
Oh my God. I was right. He is going to rape us.
Tears line my eyes as Francesca stands from her stool and walks towards the staircase. I remain absolutely still, watching as she makes her way up without so much as a glance back.
Draco comes in my direction, his footsteps heavy, and when he’s right in front of my face, he grips the back of my arm and shoves me forward.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I notice the first two buttons of his shirt are undone. His tan slacks sit low on his hips, his sleeves rolled up.
I drag my weight up the stairs and he follows closely behind me. I can smell his cologne. I can feel him on me. He’s so close that the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
When I reach the top, Francesca is standing by the wall. Her face is bleak. She’s ready to get this over with—whatever this is. She’s obviously grown accustomed to his punishments by now.
“Take off your clothes.”
My gaze flies up to meet his when his voice cuts through.
His expression remains even, one of his eyebrows cocked.
Francesca starts to undress, peeling off the straps of her purple tank top. Next, she unbuttons her jeans and then bends over to slide them down. She does it so casually that it makes me nauseous.
“Hurry up,” he snaps at me.
Jolting, I reach up and pull the straps of my dress down. He walks behind me, examining my every move, his fingers meticulously rubbing his sharp jawline. When he makes his way back around, he’s narrowed his gaze.
“It won’t happen again,” I plead, trembling. “I swear.”
My body feels so cold and empty right now.
“Oh, I know it won’t,” he assures me, and his tone is so confident that it proves only one thing. He’s going through with whatever he has planned and he’s not backing down.
When my dress is around my ankles, I stand still.
He shakes his head. “Bras.” He motions towards Francesca as he looks at me.
She unlatches her bra, and her full breasts bounce as she drops it. Her nipples are a light shade of brown, already pebbled and thick.