Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Stupid bitch,” he grumbles in Spanish. “I don’t know why he’s saving you. Would be smarter to just pass you around and then sell you.” His heavy boots clomp across the floor and then he stops at the door. In English he says, “He doesn’t want you at dinner. Don’t come out until breakfast tomorrow.” With that, the door slams behind him and he’s gone.
The heavy atmosphere is sucked back out, but only some of it.
It’s still not safe.
Three steps.
Three footsteps are what it takes this person to go past my door and wait there. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. Frankly, I’m too afraid to go out and check. It might be the man with the white hair.
Or maybe it’s Axe Man lurking around, seeking revenge.
With a beating like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost all respect for Draco. I haven’t seen him since the cells. I wonder if he’s even alive.
I check the alarm clock.
2:08 a.m.
They wait there for nearly ten minutes, and with each minute my heart is pounding like a drum.
And then…with three simple steps, the person is past my door and walking down the hallway. I don’t hear the steps again for the rest of the night.
Chapter Nine
Day 8
I woke up at 7 a.m.
It is now 7:40 and I’m done getting ready. The short-sleeved blue dress I’m wearing is ironed. My hair has been French-braided down to the middle of my back, and my lips are glossed.
He can’t say I’m late today. I’m ready.
I collect all of the items I used from the bathroom counter and put them back in their places. When the bathroom is clean, I walk back out and make the bed. I glance at the alarm clock as I do. I have eight minutes to make it.
And I will.
I toss the pillows on and then I’m out of the door. I trot down the marble staircase with a great feeling. I can’t describe it, but I’m glad to be on top of things this morning.
I was hungry as hell last night and I still am today. I need food and I need it badly.
I can smell the breakfast as I walk down the hallway. The aromas are fresh and warm.
The french doors are already open so I walk right through them, but I immediately come to a halt as I spot Draco sitting at the head of the table, opposite of where I stand.
The young woman that I just met yesterday is two seats down from him and on the other side, right beside him, is the older woman I saw in the kitchen when Patanza first brought me here.
Draco has both arms on the armrest of his chair. His chair is much bigger than the rest of them. It’s almost like a throne, made of burgundy and black leather.
He tilts a brow as his eyes wander up and down my frame. He starts from my head and carries his gaze down to my feet. The older woman stares at me with utter confusion while the young woman from yesterday tries to act like I’m not even present.
I hesitate as I walk forward, unsure of where to sit. I don’t want to sit too close, so I take a seat near the end of the table.
“No.” Draco’s deep voice rises as I start to pull the chair out. My eyes dart over to him. “Closer.”
I inhale and exhale slowly, walking past a few more chairs. When I’m at least three away from the younger woman, I pull it out and it screeches across the hardwood.
Draco watches me closely, rubbing the pad of his thumb and forefinger together. There is a thick, silver ring on his pinky finger with the shape of a skull on it.
I slide the chair in and rest my hands in my lap. A roman numerals clock is on the wall to my right and I watch the big hand tick by.
Only three more minutes until eight o’ clock.
When those three minutes are up, several butlers in black button down shirts and gloves walk out with domed trays in hand. They place one down in front of each of us, while one of them comes around to fill our glasses up with orange juice.
When the butler’s have done their jobs, Draco bobs his head and they all take off—all but one. The butler that stays, stands near the entryway of the kitchen with his fingers folded in front of him. His eyes are fixed on the wall across and nothing else. His orders, I presume.
Draco takes off the lid covering his meal and places it down. The older and younger woman follow suit, and I do as well.
There are strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, toast with small silver containers of jelly, and orange slices.
Everyone else has already dug into his or her meals while I look over mine. My mouth waters as their forks scrape and clink on the china.