Chapter 17

Arielle’s POV  

I had resigned myself to another dull and utterly suffocating day where I would be forced to sit in a corner of the room waiting till someone out there saw fit to bring me food. I had been here for at least a week, was there anybody who had bothered to even look for me in all that time.

My stepfather I didn't expect and definitely not Vanessa but I had hoped that at least once my mother would have showed up but I wasn't sure she would have even bothered and I don't know if that made me sad or furious. 

Briefly I thought about Asher and if I wanted him to come but I realized by the end of my week here that I didn't want him here– not really. I told myself it was because I did not want to put a rift between the brothers but I think the truth was I was afraid that I would want to stay here with Damian but I would never tell anyone that not even on threat of death.

I was sick of it – the away I felt around him weak and dizzy like I was about to faint. Like my skin was on fire along with my gut. Sick of feeling helpless but I wasn't going to show it to him or anyone else. I refused to be the weak, desperate girl he thought he could toss aside and pick back up whenever it suited him.

I was going to be prepared this, time no more looking like some kitchen urchin I got up and walked to the bathroom, grabbing the toothbrush on the counter and making quick work of brushing my teeth, once I was done with that, I moved on to the shower letting the water run over my skin slowly and smoothly. 

For a few minutes, I could pretend I wasn’t trapped here. That I wasn’t locked away like some dirty secret Damian was too afraid to acknowledge.  I stood under the water for a long time just letting it fall over my skin until I was wrinkled like a prune and shivering just a bit too much. I exhaled slowly, reaching for a towel as I stepped out into the room when the door swung open and someone walked in. 

I barely had time to react, I gasped, my hands instinctively clutching the towel tighter against my body.  Damian stood frozen in the doorway, a tray of food in his hands, his golden eyes widening in what I could only describe as shock and—something else.  

His throat bobbed as his gaze flickered over my damp hair, trailing lower before snapping back up. The look in his eyes made my skin tingle and had my heart racing at the same time and for the first time since this nightmare began, he looked flustered. I yanked the towel against my chest, heat rushing to my cheeks.  

And for some reason, that made me pleased which was absurd and immediately made me angry in turn.   

Oh, my God.  

“Damian!” I shrieked.  He looked utterly stunned for a second,  his face twisting in horror.

“I—I didn’t mean—”  he stuttered.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I hissed, stepping back tugging tighter on the towel though I wasn't sure how that was going to help. Damian’s lips parted slightly.

“I—”  As if he was just realizing what had happened himself, he cursed under his breath and quickly dropped the tray on the nearest table.  

“Sorry.” His voice was strained. “I should have knocked.”  

I didn’t get a chance to yell at him before he dropped the tray on the table and then spun around and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. I stood there, my breath coming fast, my cheeks burning.  

What the hell was that?  

I wasn’t sure what rattled me more—his reaction or my own reaction for that brief moment when I saw something in his eyes that resembled what I felt. 

No.  

I pushed the thought away, forcing myself to calm down.  

Damian was still my captor and it would serve me well not to let myself forget that.  

The next day was the same old exhausting routine.  

I woke up, took a shower and walked around the space of my bedroom or sat to stare at the walls, waiting for something to change. 

Damian didn't come as early today and he sent someone with food, somehow I kind of understood him.

The door creaked open—not abruptly this time, but deliberately.  I turned my head just as Damian stepped inside, but he wasn’t carrying food this time. Instead, he held a small stack of books and a smaller tray filled with biscuits. 

I narrowed my eyes looking him over .

What was he up to?  

He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked to the table and set everything down. Then, without looking at me, he gestured towards the books.

“I know you’re bored,” he said quietly and I blinked.  

That was not what I expected, I hadn't thought he would do something like this for me but I wanted to drag it out so I folded my arms. 

“Oh?" I mumbled looking at the books then up at him.

"Is this part of my imprisonment package? Books and snacks to make my captivity more enjoyable?”  

" Or is it to make me more compliant"  his jaw twitched, but he didn’t rise to my bait.  

Instead, he turned to face me fully, his gaze steady.

“I have asked you to give me time, Arielle.”  he said and I scoffed. 

"For what?” His expression darkened, but I caught the hint of hesitation in his stance.  

“I can’t explain yet,” he admitted, his voice tight. 

“But I will.” I laughed bitterly. 

"You’re asking for patience after everything you’ve done to me?” I hissed, Damian didn’t flinch. 

“I know I don’t deserve it.”  I clenched my fists. Damn right, he didn’t. “And what happens to my family." I asked looking up at him.

“What happens to the people who ask about me." I asked him and he sighed.

"I have made my excuses.” and I froze.

"What–" 

"What did you tell them." I asked him and he shrugged.

"Just the barest.”

I wanted to scream, to throw the books at his stupid, unreadable face, but what would that accomplish and I had already wasted my breath trying to force answers out of him. I turned my back to him and pretended he wasn’t there it was best to let him think I didn’t care.  

Even though my chest ached with frustration and a part of me still wanted to understand why– maybe especially because of that. I heard the soft exhale of his breath, then the sound of his boots against the floor as he left shutting the door behind him.  I waited a few beats before turning back around.  

The books sat untouched on the table.  

Next to them, sat a handful of cookies on a small plate.  

I stared at it trying to decide what I would do 

Weakness or Survival?  

I wasn't sure which one it was, my  stomach grumbled.  I had barely eaten in the last few days,and I was feeling too stubborn to give in to whatever game Damian was playing but I really was very hungry. And the smell of warm, buttery goods was almost impossible to ignore.  

I exhaled slowly and reached out, grabbing the cookie, and took a small bite, it was hard to resist the urge to groan at the taste. Maybe this wasn’t giving in, maybe this was just survival.  

Hesitantly, I picked up one of the books and opened it slowly lowering myself into a chair, if Damian thought this meant I was forgiving him, he was wrong.  

But if I was going to be trapped here…anyway I might as well keep my mind sharp.