Page 13 of Imprisoned Obsession

I still can’t explain where the scent comes from.

It torments me that he did all that while I was in the zone between slumber and wakefulness. I swear I wasn’t asleep, but somehow he rearranged everything without disturbing me.

I’m more petrified of him now.

The doorbell rings again.

He grips my hand attentively while encouraging me not to be shy towards his guest. No one is going to hurt me on his watch, but he overlooks the fact that he can hurt me whenever and however he wants.

I stand behind him, and my mind goes through the scenario of having a houseguest while a kidnap victim is being kept here.

Luck is on my side. Help is coming.

Elio opens the door to a homely woman with a gummy smile. She’s older but has an air of grace that my tattered nerves are craving.

Elio pulls me to the side to let her in with a gracious smile. It’s the opposite of the smile he gives me. When he looks at me, it is with brazen starvation in his eyes.

“It’s been so long!” the woman exclaims as her eyes twinkle with glee.

He strokes my knuckles mindlessly. “It has been, ma’am.”

Elio comments emptily, “You have not aged at all since I last saw you.”

“Oh,” the woman chides, “If my husband had half the panache you do, I’d be happy with him.”

I keep my head bowed and hold my tongue. I have this impulsive desire to ask her for help, but I can’t do that without knowing how deep her connection with him is.

They don’t seem to be close, but they aren’t strangers either.

What if I ask for help, and she doesn’t give it to me?

I’m going to end up in a ditch due to my stupidity. I can’t count on anyone who has the slightest association with him.

“This is my darling, Willa,” he introduces me as he pulls on my hand.

My feet stumble, and my hands are starting to shake vigorously. He clenches tighter, suppressing my desolate unease. His fingers take ownership of mine and cripple the resisting joints.

“She’s my fiancée.”

My head snaps up with a glare in my eyes. He meets my displeasure with a stunning smile and threatens to break my fingers by squeezing harshly. A yelp gets stuck in my throat as pain explodes in my joints, and I look away from his fierce amber eyes.

“Congratulations!” the woman shouts excitedly as she claps her hands.

“Thank you,” Elio says tersely.

Elio gestures the woman toward the common area. She confidently walks away and swiftly leaves hearing range. The woman has been here before, judging by the familiarity in her steps when she pulls the small wheeled bag behind her.

“Bernadette tailors high-quality attire, darling,” he reckons. “I want you to have something you like.”

“I want to leave,” I blurt boldly.

“None of that,” he chides. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, and you will let her do her job.”

I wrestle my hand from him, but he holds on tight. “Answer, darling.”

“Yes, yes,” I gripe, indignantly hushed. “I’ll be good.”

I might have spit that out with more hostility than necessary, but it made me feel better.

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