Chapter 105 Heart
Chapter 105 Heart
Sereia Draneth
When I open my eyes, I'm alone in bed, but the box lying beside me on the sheets makes me jump off the mattress.
My heart starts racing, and I immediately look down at my ankle.
It's... empty.
I'm free.
I shake my head in disbelief, picking up the open box and finding the electronic ankle monitor inside, alongside a red rose and a note.
And never in my life have I loved a flower as much as I do now.
A smile spreads across my face as I grab the white envelope, more excited about it than about the real possibility of escape and all my plans for freedom.
When I open it and find a handwritten list, I can only smile.
List of Essential Things About Me
Favorite color: Black (so you don't forget).
Second favorite color: None. I've already told you.
Favorite movie: The Godfather (obviously).
Favorite song: I like a lot of heavy metal, but my favorite song became the one we danced to when you became my wife. Royalty, right?
Food: Hamburgers (you already know that).
Hobby: Making deals with you.
Favorite scent: The smell of your hair.
Dream: I've already reached the top of the mafia hierarchy. I've already married the most beautiful woman on the planet. Now all that's missing is having children with you.
P.S. 1: I'm not a good writer like you, but I hope my attempt was acceptable.
P.S. 2: I hope you like the rose. I was inspired by your favorite colors.
P.S. 3: You look beautiful.
Signed,
Your Romantic Brute
I read the list over and over in silence, only realizing I'm crying when tears begin to drip onto the paper.
I should be happy.
After all, he removed the ankle monitor, increasing my chances of escaping whenever I want.
And yet, a part of my heart tightens just imagining being far away from him.
Caught between reason and emotion, I get out of bed and look at the clock.
I still have two hours before I need to leave for the salon.
Today is Rebecca Draneth's ball, and I know plenty of people are curious to see me again.
But deep down, the real reason I want to look beautiful is so Ramzi will see me that way.
Because that's how he makes me feel.
Special.
Every time he looks at me.
I use the free time to hurry to the guest room, where I find little Blue asleep in her bed.
Apparently, she's just as sleepy as I am.
I stroke her soft fur and notice bowls of food and water in the corner of the room.
Margaret enters a moment later, looking somewhat impatient, probably already thinking about my puppy's bathroom habits too.
“Tomorrow a trainer will come to teach her some manners,” she says.
I nod and kiss Blue's little snout.
Margaret sighs, shakes her head, and before leaving says:
“Oh, child, Mr. Draneth must love you very much.”
The words hit me like a gunshot.
Thinking about that right now...
It's too much.
“You're exaggerating,” I whisper, looking down at Blue. “Ramzi only freed me because today's his parents' party. I couldn't exactly show up wearing an electronic ankle monitor, could I?”
Blue stares at me with those bright, sweet eyes.
Her black fur.
Her name.
Everything about her reminds me of him.
And somehow that makes my chest ache even more.
“Maybe I'll change your name to Milkshake,” I joke, trying to ease the tension.
The little dog lets out a low growl, as if she disagrees.
A surprised laugh escapes me.
“Okay, Blue... I won't change your name,” I surrender as she snuggles into my lap, asking for more affection. “I think Ramzi trained you before he gave you to me. It's your first day here and you're already as bossy as he is.”
I keep talking to her in a desperate attempt to distract myself.
But the more I think about him, the harder it becomes to want to leave.
“I just need to learn the truth, Blue... I only want the chance to know who I am, so I can decide my own future... without having decisions forced on me all the time.”
I look at the little sausage dog and realize how ridiculous I am.
Talking about freedom with her...
When she's trapped in this house too, never even given the choice to decide whether she wanted me as her owner.
“Okay, okay... I'll stop complaining. But I'll be good to you. I promise.”
And when I realize that I'm starting to sound more and more like Ramzi, I decide to leave the room and head to the kitchen.
I need to eat.
It has to be hunger.
There can't be any other explanation for talking to a dog, sounding like a mafioso...
And worst of all, wanting to stay inside a cage...
When I should want to fly.