ELEANOR
There I was outside Armando’s door, my hand hovering just an inch away from knocking. My heart was racing, my body heavy with exhaustion. A deep breath filled my lungs as I tried to brace myself for whatever awaited me on the other side. I didn’t want to be here. Every part of me screamed to turn around, walk away, and hide in my room. But I knew I couldn’t.
Just as I was about to knock, I heard his voice from the other side, calm but commanding. “Come in.”
My hand froze. How the hell did he know I was standing there? I hadn’t even knocked. My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard, feeling a wave of nervousness sweep over me. I turned the knob slowly, pushing the door open, the familiar scent of his expensive cologne washing over me as soon as I stepped inside.
The room was dark. I couldn’t see much-just the shadows of the furniture scattered around, but I couldn’t see him. That made me even more nervous. I stayed near the door, not daring to go any further.
“Good evening, Mr. Armando,” I said, my voice small, uncertain. My eyes darted around the room, trying to locate him, but I had no idea where he was. The silence felt too long, too thick.
“Turn on the light,” he said after a moment, his voice coming from somewhere near the bed. “It’s right by the door.”
I fumbled for the switch, my fingers brushing against the cool surface of the wall until I found it. With a soft click, the room flooded with light, and I saw him-sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers. My heart jumped into my throat, and I immediately turned my head away, staring hard at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, my voice shaky. My face felt hot, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I had no idea what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t him sitting there, half-naked.
“Why are you apologizing?” His tone was indifferent, as if my reaction didn’t matter to him at all. “I told you to turn the lights on, didn’t I?”
“Yes… but I didn’t know…” I stammered, still not daring to look back at him.
“Come forward gattina,” he said, his voice more commanding this time. “Stop standing by the door like a scared little mouse.”
I hesitated, my feet glued to the spot. The last thing I wanted was to go anywhere near him, especially with him dressed-or rather undressed-the way he was. But I couldn’t just refuse. He’d already lashed out at me too many times, and I didn’t have the strength to deal with another outburst.
“I said, come forward.”
His voice was lower this time, quieter but unmistakably final. My body stiffened as the weight of his command settled over me. I turned around, forcing my legs to move, even though every part of me wanted to stay far, far away from him.
As I walked closer, my eyes unwillingly caught sight of him. His muscular chest was broad, defined, the lines of his abs perfectly chiseled. It was impossible to ignore how good he looked-how his body seemed perfectly sculpted. How could someone like him, who looked so good on the outside, be such a beast on the inside?
I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my eyes from wandering too much, but it was hard not to notice how everything about him screamed control, power. Even his body reflected that. But instead of admiration, it made me feel trapped. It was like standing in front of a predator, not knowing when it would strike.
I stopped a few feet from the bed, not wanting to get too close. I couldn’t help the nervous energy that prickled my skin. The air felt too thick, too tense.
“What do you want from me, Mr. Armando?” I asked softly, not even sure if I really wanted to know the answer.
He leaned back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach twist.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, his voice calm but cold. “Just remember-don’t make me repeat myself again. Ever.”
The warning was clear, the threat hanging in the air between us.
And all I could do was stand there, trapped in the space between his power and my fear, waiting for whatever was coming next.
Armando looked at me, his eyes cold as ever. “I came back, and my room wasn’t cleaned.”
I blinked, confusion washing over me. “Isabella didn’t tell me to clean it. You said I was only supposed to clean the places she directed me to, and she never mentioned your room.”
He leaned back, staring at me like I’d said something ridiculous. “That’s your excuse? You cleaned the whole house and decided to skip my room? How the fuck is that even logical?”
I could feel my frustration rising. How much more of this could I really take?
“But… your room isn’t even dirty,” I muttered, trying to defend myself.
He let out a bitter laugh. “So, what good is a clean house if my room-the place I sleep, the place that matters the most-is still a mess?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off, his voice sharper now. “You didn’t finish your work. I don’t care about your excuses. Go get the cleaning supplies. You’re going to clean this room right now, and I’ll be watching.”
He lit a cigarette, the sharp smell filling the room.
That was it. I’d had enough. I was exhausted-every muscle in my body screaming from the day’s work. My feet were sore, and my head was pounding. I wasn’t about to do more, especially not while he sat there, smoking and watching me like some twisted overseer.
“No,” I said quietly but firmly.
Armando’s eyes flicked up to meet mine. “What did you say?”
“I said no.” My voice was trembling, but I pushed on. “I’ve done enough for one day. I’ve cleaned your entire mansion, top to bottom, and all according to your rules. I stayed out of your private areas like you told me to. I’m tired. I need rest. Please, just let me go.”
He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly, the smoke swirling in the air. “I don’t think you understand how this works, Eleanor. You don’t get to say no.”
I clenched my fists, feeling my anger boiling over. “You’re heartless! Inhumane! How can you expect me to clean this whole damn house and then just stand here and watch me suffer? I’m not a robot-I’m a human being! You have no idea how much I’ve done today, and you don’t care. You’re cruel, Armando, and I’ve had enough of this!”
Before I could say another word, he was off the bed, crossing the room in two quick strides. His hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. My heart leapt in my chest as his face hovered inches from mine, his eyes dark and filled with fury.
This was the second time he had done this to me.
“I don’t give suggestions, Eleanor,” he snarled. “I give orders. And you will do what I say.”
I wanted to fight back, but fear had taken over, freezing me in place. I tried to pull away from his grip, but it only made him tighten his hold. My hands flew to his wrist, trying to loosen his grip, but it was no use. He was too strong.
“I’m not doing it!” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. I was terrified, but I couldn’t let him break me, not like this. I was sick of his control, sick of the way he treated me like I was nothing.
A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “You think you’re brave, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a whisper as he brought the cigarette closer to my arm.
Before I could react, I felt the burning heat of the cigarette on my skin. I screamed, the pain searing through me like fire. My vision blurred with tears, but I couldn’t move. His hand was still around my neck, cutting off more of my air with each passing second.
“You will clean this fucking room now, bitch. Do you hear me?” His voice was low, threatening, the cigarette pressing harder into my skin.
I couldn’t speak. My throat was tight, my lungs screaming for air. All I could do was nod-frantic, desperate nods-hoping it would make him stop, hoping it would be enough.
He squeezed my neck harder for a moment longer, then released me. I fell to the ground, gasping for breath, clutching my arm where the cigarette had burned me. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t dare cry out loud. Not in front of him.
“Get up,” he ordered, his voice flat and emotionless. “And clean my room. Now.”
I nodded again, barely able to push myself off the floor. My body trembled as I forced myself to stand, my legs weak beneath me. I could still feel the sting of the burn, the rawness of my skin, but I didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t.