Chapter 13: THIRTEEN

CELESTIA

“I know how to walk!”

I immediately pushed away from him because the slightest of his touch singed my skin in a way the burn ached my heart. I hated Raffaele without a shred of doubt but I hated myself more at that moment when I allowed him to do that to me.

He was nothing but a cruel, nonsensical man. I should be disgusted by his filthy action. But somehow, weird feelings started to grow deeply inside my heart, which gave me a lingering desire to be touched and felt. Under his crude compulsion, I undressed and revealed my charms and naked flesh like an offering to a deity—without any qualms.

I hated every moment of his cold, domineering behavior. I hated when his scorching eyes glossed over every little cleft and curve of mine that no one has ever seen.

To my utter belief, my treacherous body reacted to him. This is purely biological, I argued in my head to defend my feelings. I knew exactly that I shouldn’t have any feelings for him. But all along the way, I wondered if my body would be immune to his touch the next time.

I followed Raffaele across the vast expanse of the long corridor, lined with expensive paintings, and then descended down the mono beam stairs with glass railing. The house was just as exquisite as a man of astonishing wealth could purchase.

He led me towards the vast dining space with rectangular and circular tops. It reflected so much gilt that the entire space seemed to glow even brighter than the morning sun. But it wasn’t the opulence of the place that confused me. It was the number of staff and servants who stood in a semi-circular fashion baffled me. No way on earth, Raffaele Roselli had almost thirty staffs at his disposal for his breakfast demands.

“Come,” he demanded, tugging my arm when I paused amid the bewildering sight. My eyes flitted around nervously before trudging forward.

Turned out, I wasn’t the only confused party among the lot. There was this man…the same one I had encountered on the fateful night of my life. He stared between us before a slow smile crept out.

“Rafe,” he drawled amusingly, waving a hand around at the staff. Funnily, they stood ramrod-straight, mirroring some military discipline. “Is this a special breakfast arrangement that I don’t know?”

“Since Celestia would be staying with us for a few days until further arrangement, I thought the staff should get acquainted with her,” Raffaele replied with his palm resting on the small of my back.

I had half a mind to storm out, but the way his hand pressed in warning, I stiffened.

Then he turned to the men and women who stood in attention as voice hardened into a command. “Everyone, this is Celestia. She is to stay here in this West Wing and roam around the place as she pleases. By no means, she would step out of this place without my brother or me.”

Several pairs of eyes studied me cautiously like I was prized-merchandize to be guarded for a monster rather than a human being with entitled civil liberties.

Raffaele continued with his tyrant voice. “I don’t want a repetition of last night. Whoever I find for the lapse in security here, be it a staff, maid, or a guard—he or she will be fired. No explanation is going to save your job. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” came the meek chorus and solemn nods.

This man left no stone unturned to humiliate me, in private and in public. It wasn’t a warning for the servants but for me. And to flaunt his unchecked authority and control over everyone who worked for him. He made it crystal clear that escaping this so-called West Wing was next to impossible now, and should I even try, I would definitely be caught.

“You all are excused,” he dismissed as the horde of staffs hurried away in relief.

Raffaele then turned to address another man with a strong, muscular figure and a buzzed head. “Cesar, have the maids to serve us breakfast.”

The man, Cesar, gave a sharp nod and disappeared shortly.

“You haven’t met my brother, did you?” Raffaele asked, feigning innocence as he gently urged me until we stopped before the enormous head of the dining table. “Amadeo, where are your manners?” he admonished.

His brother flashed an impish smile before rounding the distance. “My brother is right; I absolutely forgot my manners.” He thrust out his hand in greeting. “I am Amadeo Roselli, Rafe’s brother,” he introduced. Unlike Raffaele’s, I noticed that his tone was playful rather than haughty.

But it pissed me off just the same.

“And the man who kidnapped me,” I hissed, stubbornly fisting my hands at my sides.

He chortled and withdrew his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Celestia.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“That’s enough,” Raffaele rumbled, leaning in for my ears.

More than his treat-laced voice, the proximity of his body unnerved me. So I immediately stepped away and tucked a few strands of loosened hair behind my ears.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Amadeo said, pulling a chair out for himself. “But, I am terribly famished.”

Following his cue, Raffaele pulled the chair at the head of the table and then motioned for me to take place to his left. I didn’t want to sit closer to him, but did I have a choice in this house? Nope. So, I mutely complied.

In no time, three maids walked in with trays of food enough to feed a population of hundred. From loaves of bread to vegetables and animal protein and desserts—it had everything except chocolate.

I was surprised. Did he really keep that small detail in mind?

“I had the chef prepare the authentic English breakfast for you,” he informed casually as the maids filled our plates. “I wasn’t sure what you generally prefer. Is that okay?”

“How thoughtful and generous of you,” I retorted sarcastically.

But it seemed to have no effect on him. “Indeed, I am being generous. So you don’t want to take my kindness so lightly.”

His cold gaze settled over me, and I quickly looked away. The fight in me was fading out. I was not in the mood to argue with him. All I craved at that moment was a cup of strongest black coffee. The verbal altercation could wait a few minutes.

When I ordered the same, the maid had it prepared within five minutes while Raffaele chatted with his brother like it was normal to dine with a captive woman.

Having no other option, I took a small bite of the buttered toast and sipped the coffee—the blackest and strongest of the highest quality—and wished my circumstances were different. The place was a paradise. But what they say of gilded cage is right—it is still a CAGE nevertheless.

“Do you like reading Celestia?” Amadeo’s voice brought me out of the reverie. “I saw that you had quite a collection of classics back in your little bedroom.”

Why did he go through my stuff?

“Yes,” I muttered, looking at him over the rim of the cup in suspicion.

He smiled again, sounding impressed. “A beautiful, well-read girl. Hmm, quite a rarity, isn’t it, Rafe?” he asked his brother, who didn’t bother to reply.

Arrogant bastard, I inwardly cursed.

“We have a library here too,” Amadeo continued. “It has classics, first editions, and everything else you might find interesting. I will have one of the maids show you the way.”

I put down the coffee cup with a thud, spilling the liquid a little. “I would very much like to go back to my collection of classics back in my little bedroom.”

“I am afraid that’s not possible right now.”

I didn’t need to look at Rafe directly to know how narrowed and focused his searing eyes were on me.

“How long are you both planning to keep me here as a prisoner?” I asked, nearing my endurance. It was scary and frustrating with two brothers, giving me the good-cop-bad-cop treatment.

“We are not discussing that with you,” Rafe growled before his brother could interrupt. “If you can’t keep your curiosities locked, we will have to do that for you.”

That’s all he’s got—threats. For every question he doesn’t want to answer, he threatens me some more, and honestly, I was more tired of it than scared.

Yes, Raffaele Roselli could do worse than imaginable, but hadn’t he already gotten tried with me? Coercing me to strip in front of a camera for his advantage wasn’t lewd enough?

I was fed up with everything about him, his warnings, his threats, and his disgraceful “manners”. And on top of it all, it’s the truth that he aroused me when I should have been repulsed. I hated it every moment I recalled that feeling.

And I decided I had enough of him for one day.

“I am done,” I announced, shoving the plate away and rose.

“Sit down,” he ordered. “You haven’t eaten a damn thing.”

My anger spiked. Raffaele hadn’t done a damn thing to earn my reply when he never responded to any of my questions. It’s time for him to taste his own medicine.

I looked straight at his brother, Amadeo, and askedwith a very nice smile, “Where did you say this library is?”

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