My mouth falls open in shock. The red gown is not what I expected. Not only is it short and I suspect too small for my curvy frame, but the fabric is practically see through in some places. A lacy black bra and pantie set are the only other articles of clothing. I move over to the cupboard, but no there's no mistake, these are the only clothes, and I know complaining about them won't get me out of wearing them.
With a lump in my throat, I pull the gown on. I try to take consolation in the fact that the gown does fit, hugging and stretching over my curves, not ripping when I expected it to. The bottom that stops right above my knees flares out slightly, giving me a comfortable berth in which I can move. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth as I finally look at the mirror.
The red compliments my brown skin in a way that I hate. The thin straps leave my arms exposed and the mesh like material that runs between my breasts and just under them show off the meaty areas of my body I've always hated. And yet, I've always wished I could wear something this fancy, something this expensive. Because there's no doubt the soft, silky dress cost a pretty penny.
A knock sounds at the door, hurrying me along. I slide my feet back into the fluffy shoes and pull the door open. I wrap my arms around my body as the guard comes into view. But his eyes don't even glance at my exposed skin, moving straight to my eyes instead. "The servant is headed to your room with lunch. Let’s go before it gets cold."
He turns away and I follow behind him, still trying to cover my body as best as I can. The ominous walk to my room feels much shorter than the one from it and I know it’s all in my head. The door is standing open, a tray sitting in the middle of my bed. More dread fills me at the thought of going back into my prison and I can't help but to pause.
The guard turns around, raising a dark brow. "Problem?" he asks. This time when he folds his arms over his chest, I can't help but to follow the movement with my eyes. Even beneath the suit, I can tell he's packed with muscle and I wonder how it'd feel to run my hands across them. I banish the thought as quickly as it appears.
He's in bed with your captors, the last thing you should be doing is admiring him.
"Ms. Chastine." His voice is harder now, the reminder I need that he isn't my friend or a casual acquaintance. He's my own personal prison guard and he reports directly back to the warden who will make my sentence worse if I'm not on my best behavior.
I clear my throat, shaking my head. "Nothing." My steps are short and unhurried. The second I step across the threshold into the room, the coldness seeps back into my body, chasing out the warmth from my shower. The aroma of the food on my bed invades my nostrils and my stomach growls.
"Remember, you must eat everything," the guard says, giving me a pointed look.
I nod, but still I don't move away from the door and neither does he. Silence moves through the room and once again I forget my place as I ask, "What is your name?"
I expect the guard to reward me with silence or a punishment, but instead he gives me a short, clipped answer. "Enzo."
The name sounds familiar and I can't figure out why. I don't have much longer to think on it as he moves forward, grabbing the knob. His brown eyes meet mine. "Eat everything, do the same when dinner comes. And get a good night's rest, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. And Ms. Chastine?"
"Yes?" The words slips past my lips just as I realize how much I don't want him to leave. He scares me, but his presence is better than the solitude I'll be subjected to when the door closes.
"Don't cover yourself again," he says sharply. "Gio picked what he wanted you to wear and if you try to hide the areas he decided he wants on display, he'll take it personally."
He pulls the door shut firmly.