ELEANOR
As I stepped further-still clutching the tray in my hands, the only light in the room was the dim glow of the skyline seeping through the large glass window, and the faint orange ember of Armando’s cigarette.
I hesitated for a second after I managed to find the light switch-wondering if turning on the lights would push him over the edge, but I flicked the switch anyway.
The room lit up instantly, revealing the disarray I’d expected. Empty glasses cluttered the side table and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts sat beside them. Armando was on a large rounded chair by the window, staring out at the city as if he was trying to count every building in sight. He didn’t even flinch when the lights came on, not a single movement.
His face was rigid and blank from where I stood and the way his jaw set and his hand held the cigarette so tightly sent a clear message; he wasn’t in the mood for company.
When his voice finally broke the silence, it was cold and threatening.
“Who the hell gave you permission to open my door?”
I froze, my stomach knotting instantly.
“I don’t remember ever saying you could just barge in here like that,” he continued, still not looking at me. “Have you completely lost your manners? Because if you have then I’ll remind you where your place is.”
My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to stand my ground. “I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “I just came to bring you dinner.”
He let out a low, humorless laugh, finally turning his head slightly so I could see the shadow of his profile.
“I didn’t ask you to bring me anything,” he said flatly. “So take whatever that is and get out.”
“Armando-”
“I said, take it out. Now.”
His tone was biting, and it was the kind of order that would have sent me scrambling out of the room not too long ago. But tonight, something in me refused to let him win so easily. My hands tightened around the tray, and I took another step forward.
“As much as I know, you haven’t eaten,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm but firm. “You need to eat something even if it’s just a little.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I need,” he snapped, turning fully now to glare at me. His eyes were dark, narrowed, and unwelcoming.
I swallowed hard but stood my ground. “You’re right. You don’t need me to tell you. But I made this for you, and I’m not leaving until you at least try it.”
His glare intensified, and for a moment, I thought he might get up and throw me out himself.
“You think you can just waltz in here and lecture me?” he said, his voice low but laced with venom. “I don’t need your pity, Eleanor.”
“It’s not pity,” I shot back before I could stop myself.
“Then what is it?” he demanded.
I hesitated, searching for an answer. “It’s…” I faltered. “It’s me trying to help. You took me to the hospital the other day when you didn’t have to. You cared enough to do that, so why can’t I care enough to make sure you don’t starve yourself?”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You think one trip to the hospital gives you the right to play nursemaid? Don’t flatter yourself.”
My grip on the tray tightened. “I’m not flattering myself. I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.”
“I don’t need you to make sure of anything,” he said, leaning back into his chair. “Now leave.”
“No.” The word came out firmer than I expected, and it caught him off guard.
His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “What did you just say?”
“I said no,” I repeated, my voice trembling slightly but holding steady. “I’m not leaving until you eat something.”
“I know you didn’t tell me to prepare anything for you,” I said, gripping the tray tighter as I stood my ground. “And I know I wasn’t invited into your room. But you haven’t eaten since yesterday, Armando. Considering everything you’ve been drinking and smoking, I don’t think it’s good for you.”
He didn’t turn to look at me. His back was still to me, and his focus remained fixed on the window. The glow of the city lights reflected faintly off his profile, and the haze of cigarette smoke hung heavy in the room.
“When,” he started, his voice low and cutting, “did my stomach become your concern?” He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly before continuing. “What I eat, drink, or smoke is none of your business. I’m sure I warned you to keep your filthy nose out of things that don’t concern you-especially mine.”
The venom in his tone stung but I stayed rooted where I was, refusing to let him intimidate me into leaving.
He didn’t wait for a response before adding, “Or have you forgotten what happened the last time you were stupid enough to nag and poke your nose where it didn’t belong?”
My chest tightened instantly and I didn’t need him to elaborate to know what he was talking about. The memory of that night rushed back uninvited; Alessandro’s grip on me, the cold press of the blade against my neck, and the panic that had surged through me as he tried to use me as leverage to make an escape.
For a moment the fear bubbled up again, but I shoved it down. I clenched my jaw and reminded myself that wasn’t why I was here.
“I remember,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady. “But that’s not what this is about.”
“Oh, it’s not?” he said mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re here, wasting my time, talking about things that have nothing to do with you. So tell me, Eleanor, how is this any different?”
I inhaled sharply, summoning the strength to push back. “Because you haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours and that’s not healthy for anyone, let alone someone who’s been downing alcohol and cigarettes like they’re water and air! I took the time to make something for you, something I thought you’d actually eat. It surely won’t kill you to try it.”
His hand tightened on the arm of the chair, his head lowering slightly as if he was weighing my words. But when he spoke, his voice was sharp and rising.
“And why the hell do you care?” he snapped, the words slicing through the heavy air of the room. “What I eat or don’t eat isn’t your problem. The last time I checked, I didn’t hire you to monitor my meals.”
I didn’t even think before the word left my lips-quiet but deliberate.
“Bought.”
He stiffened, his entire posture going rigid as the word hung between us. Slowly, he turned his head just enough for me to see the tension in his jaw.
“What the fuck did you just say?” he asked, his tone low but dangerous.
I swallowed hard but refused to back down. “You didn’t hire me Armando. You bought me.”
It wasn’t an accusation. It was just the reality of my situation, a bitter truth I had forced myself to accept because running from it only made it harder to live with.
For a moment, there was silence-heavy suffocating silence.
Then, without a word, Armando turned the chair to face me fully. His dark eyes met mine-cold and unrelenting-and he tilted his head slightly, studying me like a predator deciding how to strike.
He stood slowly-the movement deliberate and unhurried_and began to walk towards me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him close the distance between us step by step and my hands tightened even more around the tray-the metal digging into my palms-but I didn’t move.
His eyes never left mine, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to look away.
Armando’s slow steps toward me made my chest tighten. His face shifted as he walked, his cold unreadable expression morphing into something sly and dangerous. It was like watching a mask slip to reveal something much darker underneath.
“Well,” he began, his voice smooth but dripping with sarcasm, “look who’s suddenly grown the guts to talk back.”
I didn’t respond, my throat tightening as I tried to read his movements, his tone-anything that might give me a clue about what was coming next.
“It seems,” he continued, his steps deliberate and unhurried, “that since I haven’t reminded you of your place, you’ve started to forget it. Misbehaving even.”
My palms felt damp against the tray as I gripped it tighter. My voice shook when I spoke, but I forced myself to keep it steady enough to answer.
“I know my place,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I know I’m nothing but a… a common maid in your house.”
He raised an eyebrow at that but I pushed forward, ignoring the way his gaze felt like it was stripping me bare.
“You’ve always called me your personal maid,” I continued, fighting not to falter. “And since I’m your personal maid, it’s my job to look after you, whether I like it or not. That includes making sure you eat. I’m only just doing my job.”
Armando’s lips curled into a smirk, and he let out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Oh, your job, huh?” he said, dragging out the words as if tasting them. “That’s cute.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he added, “I always find it amusing when you try to act like you don’t know why you’re really here.”
My stomach churned, and I instinctively shifted a foot backward-needing just a little more distance between us, but before I could take another step, his voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, his tone sharp and commanding.
It wasn’t just his words that stopped me-it was something about the way he said them, as if they held an invisible force. My feet froze on their own, and my breath hitched as he finally closed the gap between us.
He reached out and took the tray of food from my hands-his fingers brushing mine briefly before he set it down on a nearby glass stool without so much as glancing at it-then he turned back to me, his expression darker with more intent.
“Since you’re pretending not to know your place in this house,” he said, his voice low but menacing, “let me remind you one last time.”
I swallowed hard, the tension in the room so thick it felt like it was pressing down on my chest.
“Your place, Eleanor,” he continued, taking a small step closer, “is as my slut. Nothing more.”
The word hit me like a slap but I forced myself to stay rooted where I was, refusing to let him see just how much it stung.
“All the other things you do,” he went on, his tone dripping with mockery, “the cooking, the cleaning… those are just side tasks. Your real purpose here is to make sure I’m satisfied.”
My back hit the door as I instinctively tried to retreat, but there was nowhere left to go. He closed the distance between us even further, his towering frame casting a shadow over me.
“When I’m in a bad mood,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “your job is to fix that. And don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean.”
His hand brushed against the doorframe beside my head, and I could feel the heat of his presence, the way he loomed over me like a predator cornering its prey.
“Instead of walking in here with some tray of food,” he continued, his tone almost teasing now, “you should’ve come straight to me and started working on my belt.”
I felt my cheeks burn at his words, but I refused to let my gaze drop.
“But no,” he said with mock disappointment, his eyes scanning my face, “you thought you’d try something cute.”
His proximity was overwhelming, and I could feel my breath quicken as the tension in the room grew heavier.
“Tell me, Eleanor,” he said, his voice softer now but no less dangerous. “Do you really think that’s what I need right now?”
I didn’t have an answer. My mind was spinning, the weight of his words and his presence pressing down on me from all sides.
* * * * * * *
——-
Eleanor’s heart pounded as Armando backed her into a corner, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Why do you keep resisting me, Eleanor?” he asked, his voice a low threat.
She tried to pull away, but his grip on her wrist tightened. “I won’t be your possession, Armando.”
A slow, dangerous smirk curled on his lips. “We’ll see about that.” His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her against him, the warmth of his body making it hard to think straight.
Before she could protest, his mouth claimed hers, fierce and demanding. She wanted to fight, but the intensity of his kiss shattered her defenses. Her hands, instead of pushing him away, gripped his shoulders, drawing him closer.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathless. “You can lie to yourself all you want,” Armando whispered against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine, “but you can’t deny what’s between us.”
Eleanor’s heart raced with conflicting emotions, knowing he was right-and hating herself for how much she wanted him.