Chapter 14

LEILA

.

.

He left just immediately after those words tumbled from his lips, I practically leaped off the bed, the sheets tangling around my bare legs for a disoriented moment.

I had to push the insistent thought of Tracy out of my head, shove it down into some dark corner of my mind because dwelling on that was going to mess with my  brain.

Seeing my mother… that single thought that had become a lifeline, something in the suffocating darkness of my current reality as it had to be the perfect opportunity, a chance to see with my own eyes that she’s still breathing.

Or maybe still fighting.

I didn’t care what twisted games Damien was playing or what condition he might impose later. She had to be alive.

That was the only thing that truly mattered.

I scrambled to get dressed, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of the long flowing dress that hung in the wardrobe.

I think they did stuck some clothes maybe when I was bathing or something because I can tell that most of these weren’t here when I had been searching for something just some old nonsense.

The clothes looked untouched.

This one, a deep red dress that reminded me of spilled wine, felt surprisingly soft against my skin. It skimmed my curves, clinging in all the right places, highlighting the swell of my breasts a  detail Damien would  certainly notice, and the roundness of my ass in a way that made me briefly, and unwillingly, consider my reflection in the mirror that dominated one wall of the room.

I walked towards the door, my bare feet padding softly on the thick, plush carpet that felt like walking on clouds compared to the worn ground of our old apartment.

I had no phone, I could’ve taken a picture of this.

Damien had confiscated it, and the boredom was almost unbearable.

It was a strange kind of isolation, being surrounded by so much luxury yet completely cut off from the outside world. Maybe the thought of just living in the moment, seeing my mother again after what felt like an eternity, could be a vivid enough image to hold onto, a small spark of hope in this place.

I wasn’t a social media person anyway, never had been.

No need to think about posting anything for a world I barely interacted with.

Plus, I had no real friends, not anymore.

My life had been a constant, exhausting cycle of working shift after shift, just trying  to keep my head above waters, paying off those damn debts my father had accumulated, one agonizing dollar at a time.

“What the fuck did he even do with that much money that it had to take a human life?” I muttered to myself, the question a bitter taste on my tongue as I walked through the long hallway, the expensive, unsettling artwork on the walls blurring in my peripheral vision, the first time I’m actually taking note of them.

 I reached the main door, the same heavy oak door that felt more like a barrier than an entrance, the one I’d been dragged into so many times through today.

The fear, a familiar cold knot in my stomach, tightened its grip, a stark reminder of my captivity.

I stood there for a moment, taking a shaky breath, the air in the grand lobby  feeling heavy with unspoken threats and hidden power, as a sleek, black car, polished to a mirror sheen, pulled up to the circular driveway.

Matteo, with an impassive face  as always, was in the driver’s seat.

I peered into the tinted windows, searching for any sign of Damien, until I felt his presence behind me and his shadow falling over my back.

He stood there, just a few inches away, the silence stretching between us while his gaze swept over me, lingering on the crimson dress, taking in every detail of the way it held my breast.

He drew in a sharp breathe, the sound almost a gasp, before stepping around me, his hand brushing lightly against my arm, sending a jolt of unwanted awareness through me, and opening the back door of the car with a silent command.

I practically jumped in, the soft leather of the seats enveloping me, a nervous energy mixed with the burgeoning, fragile excitement of seeing my mother again bubbling inside me, something different from the fear that still clung to me.

He turned to the other side and slid into the back seat with the scent of his expensive cologne filling the air, a familiar yet unsettling aroma.

He pulled out his phone with   the screen illuminating his sharp features in the dim light, and began fiddling with it, his attention seemingly absorbed by the device, not sparing me a single glance.

Like I cared.

I turned to look out the window as Matteo pulled away from the imposing mansion.

The  sprawling estate, looked so far removed from everything else around it, a fortress of wealth and privilege. Like it existed in its own isolated bubble of obscene luxury, untouched by the struggles of the real world.

It truly was an estate owned solely by the Alvaros.

Such a powerful name in this city of sin, a name whispered with a mixture of fear and respect.

I guessed the rich still ruled the damn country, no matter what anyone on the news tried to say.

I folded my arms across my chest, the soft fabric of the dress bunching slightly, and rested my head against them, looking out at the passing scenery.

 The familiar, yet somehow alien landscape unfolded before me, the stark desert mixed with the glittering facades of casinos and hotels.

The freedom, the feel of the fresh dry air as I dared to breathe deeply, got a small, involuntary chuckle to escape my lips.

Maybe I wasn’t all that caged after all, not yet.

There was still a fight left in me.

I turned my head, and my eyes caught his.

His stare when he finally looked up from his phone, was dark, intense, like he had a million unspoken words swirling behind those grey depths, I wanted to listen to and still feared to hear.

We held eye contact for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment of the complex, dangerous connection that bound us, before he finally broke it and his jaw was tight  as he returned  his attention to his phone as if I were nothing more than a distraction.

I  turned back to the window, acknowledging his silent message and returning to whatever I had been staring at  and the  blur of the Vegas Strip fading into the distance, replaced by the more bothersome streets leading to my old life.

The road stretched out before us, looking strangely beautiful in the evening light as we journeyed towards my father’s house.

The man I despised with every fiber of my being, the man who had sold me like chattel.

 Matteo pulled up to the curb in front of the familiar, dilapidated house and came around to open the door for me, his movements efficient and silent.

I stepped out, the familiar sense of dread washing over me, heavier than before.

I walked to the front of the car, not even thinking of looking in Damien’s direction.

The place looked even gloomier than I remembered, the small yard overgrown with weeds looking neglected like some horrible thing happened here, a place where hope had withered and died.