Time For Breakfast

“Good morning. You’ve been asleep for quite a while. You must have been very exhausted,” Andre said, deciding to go for courtesy rather than fear.

She didn’t respond to his greetings and was switching her focus back and forth from her captor and the door. Andre noticed and proceeded to dispel whatever thoughts she was having about making a run for it.

“You wouldn’t get very far before my men would catch you and bring you back. I would suggest that you stay put,” He stood up.

His sudden movement scared her a little and she backed further away from him to the corner of the large room.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me or anyone here. No one will hurt you, I promise. You are a guest here in my home and you’ll be treated as such,” Andre said, maintaining strong eye-contact with her.

“So as your guest, I can leave whenever the fuck I want?”

It wasn’t exactly what he was expecting her to sound like and neither did he expect her to be so foul-mouthed because she looked so innocent. He could tell from her looks that she wasn’t American but he didn’t expect her to be Italian…or at least that was what he got from her accent.

“No! You can’t leave whenever you want,”

“Then I am your prisoner,” she said angrily.

“I wouldn’t use that word but yes, your movement privileges are limited to anywhere within my home…No further. Your total freedom could be yours, but that depends entirely on you.”

Andre slowly moved closer to her and the further he came, the harder her heart pounded. To her, this man could not be trusted. There was something about the way he was staring at her that made her feel like she was being stalked. There was a devilish look in his eyes and although he was handsome, his face only invoked her with more fear.

She backed away until she met the wall and could move no more. He reached her, standing at such close proximity that she could feel his warm breath against her forehead as he stared down at her. His eyes were on her face and they trailed down into the open top of her dress. She felt very conscious that his eyes had access to her body like this but she didn’t try to cover herself. She knew he was trying to frighten her and although she was, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was making her so uneasy.

Andre slowly raised his hand and brought it toward her face. Her heart was beating. She didn’t know what he was about to do.

“What are you doing?” She asked, almost like a whisper as her words constrained in her throat.

“Shh…”

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked again.

“I said, shut up!” Andre replied softly and yet, it carried venom.

His fingers softly brushed her hair and he wrapped them around the spider nestling on her hair. He brought the bug to her eyeline and showed it to her, causing her to gasp in realization.

“What is your name?” He finally asked as he tossed the dead spider away.

“I’m not telling you anything so if you’re going to torture me, you’d better get to it, asshole,”

Andre had a foul tongue as well but because he was in the presence of a lady, he had chosen to speak like a gentleman. She, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a filter and there was nothing lady-like about the way she was speaking to him and he didn’t like it.

She was wild and needed to be tamed and he knew just how to do it.

Andre grabbed her chin with one hand rather forcefully and pulled her closer to him so she could stare directly into his eyes. His fingers were pinching into her face and try as she did to pry his hands off, she wasn’t strong enough.

“I will not be disrespected in my home, woman. If I treat you with respect, I expect respect back. You don’t want to piss me off so I suggest you act like a civilized adult and tell me your fucking name,”

“Gab…Gabriella,”

He let go of her face and she let out a loud gasp and was breathing quite heavily. He loosened his posture and forced out a courteous smile.

“Nice to meet you, Gabriella. My name is Andreas…Andreas Cimaro,”

Her eyes widened in recognition after she heard his last name; Cimaro.

She seemed to know exactly who the Cimaros were and how dangerous they could be. Whoever this Andre was, she was certain that he was a heartless killer and it made her decide to be less insolent so she wouldn’t invoke his wrath upon her.

“It seems you’re in desperate need of a bath, Gabriella,” he said before turning away from her, “The bathroom is just over there and I already had one of my maids prepare a dress for you to wear. It’s in the closet,”

“A dress? For what?”

He turned around and faced her.

“Breakfast! You must be hungry and you certainly can’t eat in those filthy rags you’re wearing. When you’re ready, knock on the door and my guard will escort you to the dining area,” he said before walking out of the room.

Alone now, Gabriella slid to the floor and looked like she was about to cry but she held back her tears. She stared at the tattoo on her wrist; her curse, the anchor weighing her down, the symbol of her imprisonment. All she wanted was her freedom but destiny was not in her favour. Being trapped was all she had ever known since she was born into this deadly world of mafias, cartels and drug lords; first at the hands of Carolina Rossi and now, Andreas Cimaro.