*Bruno*
Lucia looked so surprised when I told her she would be my cook. It was obvious she didn’t want to at first. She may wonder why I made her my cook. But I had my reasons for everything I did. “Why?” She asked, just as I knew she would. She was one curious being. How could I tell her that I wanted her close to me? As my cook, she was in charge of all my meals.
“Since when do I have to explain to you, Lucia?” I asked her. She gritted her teeth as she had nothing to resort to. “I tell you what you do, not the other way round,” I said sternly. There was no room for dispute.
She frowned.
If there was one thing that I have noticed about her, it was the fact that she hated being controlled. I wonder how it must make her feel to not be able to do what she wants, but at the same time, I couldn’t give her all the freedom she wants now. I have to be sure that she will be beside me first before letting her make some decisions for herself.
She swallowed her anger and spoke, “Did you even bother to ask if I know how to cook?” She asked. One side of my lips pulled up the side. What did she take me for? I know everything about her; I know what she could do and what she couldn’t do.
“I know you can cook,’ I said plainly.
“You’ve never seen me cook; how can you be so sure?” She asked, still unable to decipher why I didn’t think she needed to learn or something.
“I told you before, I don’t owe you any explanation, sweet girl,” I said, and her brows were quick to raise at the name I called her.
“Sweet girl?” She asked.
“Of course. You are my sweet girl, Lucia,” I didn’t know where the name came from; maybe it was because she tasted sweet, too sweet. And it was high time I gave her a nickname.
“Don’t call me that, she said. Her hand moved to the side of her head, and she touched it gently.
“But why? You are a sweet girl. I still can’t get enough of you,” I said in a low husky voice. Her hands dropped to the side, and she took a step back. She glanced over my shoulder for a while before settling her eyes on me.
“You wanna run?” I asked, my voice light as I felt like laughing. She wanted to blush but kept holding it back. I took a step forward, and she took one back. “If you keep moving back, I won’t stop moving forward,” I said, but she wouldn’t listen. Her guard was up.
Her back hit the wall behind her. The dim light reflected on her face. She raised her head, her plump red lips slightly parted. My eyes moved to rest on them. “Why do I feel like my punishment is too lenient?” I asked.
“What do you think you are doing?” She asked defensively.
“What does it look like I am doing?” I asked back. “There would have been no chasing if there was no race,” I said, reminding her that she was the reason we were in this position.
“I know you bought me, and you decide everything, but I need my space. You don’t have to invade it every time,” her voice was firm, and her eyes held mine boldly. I could sense that she was anticipating what I was going to do next. She was trying hard not to drop her gaze down; she didn’t want to look at my body.
My eyes moved to her breast, and I stared at it hungrily. I wanted to grip them; maybe that should be her punishment. “What do you want from me, Bruno? Fine, I’ll cook for you. I’ll make you meals all day, that would make you happy, right? I won’t talk back or question you,” she said all at once.
“That has already been decided,” I said. My hands moved to raise her body, and I pressed it into mine. Her body was soft, and the friction of it pressing into my hard body sent a type of sensation down my spine. She placed her small hands on my chest, ready to push me off, “you know that’s futile,” I said.
“I want to punish you more. Something more than just cooking,” I confessed. I had kissed her earlier, but that didn’t seem enough; I wanted more. Remembering how sweet she tasted, I wanted to devore her lips. She looked at me with that innocent eyes of hers. Right now, I could no longer tell what she felt: helpless, scared, confused.
She swallowed.
I raised my hands to her lips and traced them with my finger, “I want you here with me by my side. I don’t want you running away. Not that I mind much as I would chase you to the ends of the earth,” I said. She was shocked by my confession for a moment. She blinked. She wanted to speak, but it seemed her words were stuck at the back of her throat.
My hands moved beneath her chin, and I raised it before meeting her lips with mine. I sucked on the bottom lip; it was soft and sweet. She didn’t respond immediately but soon began to respond.
I knew I had control over her the same way she had over me.
She wanted to push me away, but her body wanted something else. Soon, her hands moved from my chest to wrap around my neck as she deepened the kiss. My hands moved all over her body. I didn’t care about the world. I kept holding her close to myself. I didn’t want our bodies to be separated even for a minute. But I was careful not to touch where she was injured. We spent some time in each other’s hands.
When we pulled away, she couldn’t meet my gaze as if she couldn’t believe she had given in to her body’s desire once more. I smiled, and she passed her tongue over her bottom lips.
“I’ll pick you up later,” I paused and continued, “rest for now. You need it,” I said, and she nodded, still not meeting my eyes. I knew she must be so red right now.
As I walked to the door, I heard her say, “What if I become your cook,” I paused and turned. She raised her head and met my eyes, “And I poison you? What if I kill you? It’s clear that I don’t like you, and you’ve been keeping me here against my will,” I honestly didn’t expect her to say this.
She wanted to hear my reply. “If the poison comes from you, I don’t mind; I’ll gladly eat it. But I hope my last breath will be in your arms, staring into your eyes. I’ll make that moment unforgettable for you, so you’ll constantly think of me after my death, and then I’ll forever be not only in your mind but also your heart.” I said, and without giving her time to react, I opened the door and stepped out, leaving her standing rooted to the ground as she processed my words.
***
Lucia wasn’t able to take up the job as my cook immediately. I gave her time to get better, and when she was better, I wasted no time in giving her the type of dress I wanted her to wear while she was in the kitchen cooking for me. She had a nice body, and I liked how it was accentuated in all the dresses she wore.
That morning, I woke up very early and walked straight to her room. I knew she was awake and was already waiting for me, as I had told her the day before that I would be bringing her dress.
I knocked on the door, and she opened it. Her eyes wandered around the hallway before settling on me. She was still in her nightwear. I handed them the black dress I wanted her to wear, “Meet me downstairs in thirty minutes,” I said. She bowed and shut the door.
I would be giving her a list of all the things I wanted.
When she came out not wearing the dress I gave her, I arched my brow. Noticing my reaction, she said, “You didn’t expect me to work in such a dress, did you?” She asked. “I’d like to get to work immediately, boss,” she said as if she was so excited to start cooking, but the tone didn’t match it.
I took a deep breath, making a mental note to remind Rave to take her to my fashion designer’s office so she could make whatever dress she wanted. “First, we have to visit the greenhouse,” I said. Seeing her confused look, I went on to explain, “I like using the freshest vegetables for food, and the only way to achieve that was to grow them myself,” I said.
“You planted them yourself?” She asked. We began to walk.
“Technically, yes, since I paid everyone who worked on the farm,” I said. The house was empty. I had sent out everyone to leave, just the both of us.
“I thought as much,” she said, pausing for a while before she asked, “Where is the greenhouse?” She was suddenly excited to see it. She walked beside me. Seeing that she was trying so hard to keep my pace, I slowed down.
“You’ll see,” I said, and we stepped out.
When we got to the greenhouse, which was in the same building, she was surprised to see various vegetables as they grew. “I didn’t know you had a greenhouse in the building,” she said, walking to a stand in front of a tomato that was ripped.
“I have everything,” I said.
“Why do you grow them yourself? Some veggies in the market are also fresh, though it’s not as fresh as these?” She asked me to hold my gaze for some time before walking around, taking everything she saw.
I was quiet for some time.
I have never been asked such a question before. No one cared to know. I never thought there was a reason until she asked. She turned to look at me, “Hmm?” She was waiting for my reply.
“That was how I was raised,” she raised her brows, not understanding what I said. I inhaled a scent of breath before going on to explain, “My mom loved them; she grew the vegetables that were used for cooking,” I said, trying to keep the explanation short.
“Oh, did she have a greenhouse like this, too?” She asked me.
I shook my head as I watched her run her hands around a green bell pepper, “no, she had a small garden,” I said, and she turned to look at me sharply and asked if that couldn’t be true.
“She didn’t like bigger ones?” She asked. I loved the way she asked questions. I liked the fact that she wanted to know more. Although I have never had this conversation with anyone before. I didn’t like speaking about my family, not even with Rave. But it felt so comfortable talking with Lucia.
“She couldn’t afford bigger ones,” her mouth formed an o as if she was just beginning to place all the dots together. Her hair was ruffled by the wind, and she kept tucking them behind her ear.
“I wasn’t born into wealth,” I said; she looked at me like she didn’t believe that, “what, you don’t believe?” I asked.
“It’s unbelievable because you are,” she paused, trying to look for the right words, “all this…” She made a circle with her hands, emphasizing how big the greenhouse and all I had was.
“These are all as a result of my hard work,” I said to see her nod and look away, admiring the colorful veggie as we moved away.
“Well, that’s soooo, ahhhhh,” she screamed and jumped. She missed a foot and began falling backwards. My hands were quick to wrap around her waist, preventing her from falling. My hands held onto something soft.
Her hands around my neck stiffened.
I was holding her butt.