CHAPTER NINE: WINTER
I follow Enzo back up the stairs and it isn't until I'm locked in the bathroom, the door firmly shut behind me, that I let the real tears start to fall. I manage to hold the sobs in, not sure that the sound of the shower will mask them, and the last thing I want is for Enzo to hear me cry. He isn’t on my side. No one here is. For a moment, I’d believed while cold, that the guard couldn’t be that bad. Why? All because he wasn't extremely mean to me or hint at the fact that he would fuck me against my will if he chose to.
Or even attempted to, like Maximo, who thankfully hasn't made a reappearance.
Once I'm done, I move to the mirror, taking in my red rimmed eyes. My gaze moves to my hair, remembering Gio’s words. He isn’t wrong, my hair is a mess. The curls are lifeless and tangled in a way that they haven't been in a while. The defined look I typically keep is gone.
But that isn’t my fault.
The pillow I’ve slept on the last two nights is made of cotton when what my hair needs is satin. Not to mention, I didn't have anything to put it up in a pineapple to keep it from being flat.
Frustrated, humiliated, and pissed, I wet my hands under the faucet of the sink before running them through my hair, trying to grasp onto any curl that I can manage from the product I put in my hair a couple of days ago. The end product isn’t the best, but it's better than when I woke up this morning.
After I'm done, I move over to the cupboard and find the outfit that's been chosen for me today. I pull it out, a frown already tilting my lips down as I look at the black silky gown that's not much different from the red one. It's casual, but there's also something about it that makes it clear that it's expensive. I slide the dress on, the soft silk melding to my body.
Glancing in the mirror, I take in the way the lace sits right above my breasts, exposing the skin there. The cups of the top squeeze my breast, making them appear bigger than what they are. The rest of the dress falls flat to my frame.
I stare at the unopened toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the counter and it doesn't take long to put the pieces together. I quickly brush my teeth, placing the toothbrush in a small cup by the soap dispenser. From what I can see, I'm the only person using this bathroom, no signs of any other personal items around, so I don't have any fear that anyone will try to use my things.
Once I'm completely done, I take a few seconds to just breath. I know I'm headed back to my room where I'll likely just lay around for the rest of the day, nothing of entertainment to distract me. Once I'm done catching my breath, I move out of the bathroom, slowly pulling the door open. Enzo's broad shoulders are facing me and he inclines his head back slightly before turning around, his gaze sweeping over me.
Unlike yesterday, his eyes don't just move over my face, but trail over the curves of my outfit. His body tenses slightly before he gives his head a slight shake and turns around. There's been a thicker tension in the air since Giovanni's cruel words slipped between us, and I can tell that Enzo is uncomfortable, but I don't care. He's not the one who was told his body would be used however someone else liked, down to every wash and every shave.
He turns away and I expect him to head toward my room, but instead he moves in the opposite direction, heading back toward the staircase. I stare after him in confusion, wondering what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to go back to my room on my own?
No, that can't be right. They wouldn't let me stay in the room with the door unlocked.
Enzo's throat clears and when I look up, he's watching me closely, his arms folded over his chest. "This way, Ms. Chastine."
I almost ask him where we're going before I think better of it, remembering his reminder about asking questions. So instead, I follow him and we head down the staircase. At the bottom, a woman waits with a jacket tossed over her arm and a pair of red heels in her hand. They stand at least six inches tall and dread fills my stomach. The woman’s eyes lift when Enzo stops beside her and she gives a small bow way too outdated for the twenty-first century. She places the heels on the ground, right in front of the stairs.
I pause on the last step, glancing up at Enzo. He raises a brow before looking at the heels and then back at me. "Put them on," he directs.
I glance at the heels again, but I know they're my size. Like the clothes, somehow Giovanni knows my size. I sit down on the bottom step, pulling off my house shoes and replacing them with the heels.
"Has no one ever taught you how a lady sits with a dress on?" The voice is unfamiliar and a chill runs down my spine before I look up, my breath stopping in my chest when I find an intense stare on me. Recognition flares briefly and it's only a moment before I realize why. The man standing in front of me is the one who saved me from Maximo. Close up, I can map out his features better, the slight stubble on his face, the way his eyes have flecks of green in the light brown pools, and how his lips are thinned into a frown. His gaze moves from my face downward and I follow the direction, realizing that my legs are wide open as I pull on the heels. The black gown is long, but even still with how I'm sitting, it rides up to my thighs, exposing my legs.
I quickly close them. The strap of the heels are undone though and I try to figure out how to fix them without sitting so wildly. It's not my fault I don't know anything about wearing heels and dresses, I remind myself. I didn't even go to a high school homecoming or prom. I've worn ripped jeans, old converses, and hoodies most of my life. Being a lady is not something I'm trained in, and I shouldn't be looked at crazy when I'm suddenly expected to act like one.
Frustration moves through me, my face heating up as I try to figure out how to solve my dilemma.
The man lets out a soft sigh and I'm just going to look back up at him when I find his feet stepping in front of me. He kneels down, getting eye level with me. His cologne drifts into my nostrils, thick and musky. Like everyone else around this place, he's wearing a suit and the red tie he adorns complements his tan skin. I can't help but to study the small smattering of freckles that sit on the bridge of his nose. Something about them only makes the man look more rugged, there’s nothing cute about them. Those green flecked eyes move over my face and he leans close enough that his warm breath fans over my face.
Goosebumps light my skin up.
I hold my breath as he leans even closer, his eyes continuing to study me. After a moment, he lets out a soft hum, pulling back. His big hand moves to the back of my calf, startling me. My heart races in my chest, but he doesn't say anything as his hand drags down the back of my leg. Unbidden, heat moves through my body.
His hand stops at my ankle and he pulls it onto his knee, making my dress fall down slightly. His other hand joins the fray and I watch in shock as he pulls the strap on the heel through the small hole before fastening it. His hands linger for a moment longer before he slowly lowers it back to the ground, ever so gently. He moves to the opposite leg, his hands taking the same path down my skin, sensually and slowly. He buttons the strap on this one even slower before lowering it back to the ground. He remains squatted down in front of me.
Face hot, I look up at him, my eyes holding his. I don't know what to say as he continues to watch me.
"Thank you," I finally manage to get out, clearing my throat slightly.
I'm shocked when the corner of his lips twitch slightly into what isn't quite a smile, but definitely isn't a frown which seems to be in popular demand around this house. "You're welcome, Winter." My name rolls off his tongue like honey, smooth and thick. "I tend to fix things around here." His head tilts to the side as those orbs penetrate mine. "It seems you'll need my help a lot." And then he's rising to his feet as I try to figure out if his remark was meant to be a compliment or an insult. I decide he must have meant the latter.
He holds a hand out to me. I glance behind him at Enzo whose back is straight, his hands in front of him. His eyes meet mine and he gives a small, almost unnoticeable nod.
Not that I need his help or advice.