Hold on a minute.
I find myself leaning closer, my eyes inspecting her strong reaction of discomfort. “You’ve had a boyfriend before, right?”
Lara quickly shakes her head. “It wasn’t allowed.”
Jesus.
A wave of protectiveness rears inside my chest, and before I can think about the consequences, I say, “In that case, you’re not to get romantically involved unless I approve of the man. You’re living under my roof now, which means you’re my responsibility.”
Instead of arguing because I’m placing a restriction on her personal life, Lara looks relieved by my request. “Yes, sir.”
It’s probably because she doesn’t have a fucking clue how to navigate through life. Mazur seriously did a number on this woman.
The fucker.
“If there’s anything you’re unsure about, just ask. You’ll never get in trouble for asking a question.” I might be a criminal and murderer, but I’m not a dick.
More relief washes over her features. “Thank you, sir.”
The fact that she’s thanking me for allowing her to ask questions fills me with more compassion.
Now that Lara seems to be more at ease, I decide to add, “If you remember anything about Mazur you think might be of worth to me, please tell me.”
She tilts her head. “Like what, sir?”
“Any relationships he had. Phone calls you overheard. People you saw coming and going.”
Lara nods. “I’ll think hard, and the moment I remember something, I’ll let you know.”
“Good.” Climbing to my feet, I glance around the room again. “Did they bring your belongings from Mazur’s house?”
“Yes, sir.” Lara stands up and walks by me to open the closet. “I placed it in here because it wouldn’t fit beneath the bed. I hope that’s okay?”
My eyes land on the plastic box. Without thinking, I remove it from the closet, drop it on the bed, and take off the lid. I stare down at the meager clothes, pair of shoes, and children’s storybook.
Unable to believe this is all Lara owns, I grab the maid’s uniform and toss it on the bed. Disgust fills my chest as I turn to look at Lara. “This is everything you own?”
Her gaze touches on the worn items with a fierce possessiveness that lends more color to her cheeks. “Yes, sir.” Moving around me, she gathers the clothes and starts to fold them neatly.
Jesus Christ.
Pulling cash from my pocket, I take a couple of thousand dollars and drop it on the bed. “Have Murat take you shopping when you go to open the bank account. Take Nisa with you and get yourself decent clothes.”
Lara stares at me with the same expression as yesterday when I told her how much her wages would be – as if I just gave her the fucking world.
“It’s so much, sir,” she breathes, the emotion on her face making her look vulnerable and downright beautiful.
Again there’s a tug at my heart.
Needing to get away from Lara and the unwanted emotions she’s making me feel, I mutter, “Take a couple of days to heal properly while you get settled.”
“Yes, sir.” Her words are soft as I stalk out of the bedroom. “Thank you, sir.”
After the emotionally loaded moment in Lara’s room, I need to fucking kill someone to restore my equilibrium.
Chapter 14
Lara
Sitting on the chair, I stare at the bed that’s covered with shopping bags.
I got to go out without having to check the time.
I opened a bank account and have one hundred dollars in it. It’s the first time I have any kind of money that I’m allowed to use for myself.
Nisa helped me shop for clothes until my legs were trembling and my arms were numb. Poor Murat must be exhausted from all the bags he had to carry.
Nisa also had me go to a hairdresser where, for the first time since my mom passed, someone else cut my hair.
Today feels like a dream. An incredibly good dream.
I lift my arm and tentatively pull my fingers through the long bob style. The strands feel so soft and healthy.
Is all of this really happening to me?
Yesterday, Gabriel was so kind. Not once did he threaten me, and he even allowed me to ask questions.
I’m allowed to form attachments with other people without fearing they’ll be killed the next day. It’s scary how quickly I’m growing attached to Nisa. It feels like she’s becoming my fairy godmother. It’s silly, I know, but it’s as if, by some sort of magic, I’ve been thrown into a storybook where happiness does indeed exist.
Once I have some strength in my legs, I get up and start to pack the clothes away. I smile at every piece, admiring it all over again.
I got jeans, leggings, t-shirts, beautiful silk blouses, soft sweaters, jackets, the prettiest underwear, and a bunch of shoes. Everything from sneakers to boots to high heels. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk in the heels, though.