ELEANOR
After Armando left the room, my legs felt weak-trembling from the overwhelming sensations still coursing through me, and my mind was a mess of scattered thoughts.
I swallowed hard, taking slow breaths to calm myself, but my body refused to settle. I hated how much control he seemed to have over me. Even now-with him gone, I could still feel him like his presence had somehow soaked into the walls.
“Why does he have to be like this?” I muttered under my breath.
I tried to focus, to pull myself out of this haze, but every attempt was a failure.
Armando was… intense. That was the only way I could describe him. I wanted to hate him for it, but at the same time, I couldn’t deny that when he touched me, it was like nothing else mattered.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I forced myself to move, heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. The warm water helped a little-washing away the tension clinging to my skin, and by the time I was done, I felt slightly more grounded.
I grabbed a fresh dress and slipped it on quickly. It was simple-loose, nothing like the designer one Armando had made me wear.
I turned back toward the bed where the Louis Vuitton bag sat untouched, and then curiosity tugged at me. What else was in there? I hadn’t even looked properly earlier because Armando had insisted that i tried the dress immediately.
The logo on the packaging was bold and luxurious-a reminder of just how expensive everything must have been, and slowly, I opened the box, feeling like I was unwrapping something forbidden.
The first thing I saw was a sleek bottle of perfume. I picked it up carefully, studying the elegant glass design, and out of curiosity, I sprayed a little on my wrist. The scent was soft, floral, and ridiculously expensive-smelling.
“Why would he do this?” I whispered, staring at the bottle in my hand.
Next, there was a small set of makeup. I wasn’t an expert, but even I could tell these were high-end products, the kind you’d only find in glossy fashion magazines. I traced a finger over the packaging, my chest tightening slightly.
And then my eyes landed on another box, smaller than the rest. I frowned, unsure of what it could be because it certainly didn’t look like makeup or perfume.
Slowly, I reached for it, hesitating for a moment before lifting the lid.
My breath caught in my throat.
Inside was a smartphone.
When I held the box of the brand-new iPhone, I just couldn’t believe it. My fingers brushed over the smooth packaging, my mind struggling to process the fact that Armando had actually bought this for me.
First, the Louis Vuitton dress, and now this?
Armando Luca-the same man who’d made it clear from day one that I wasn’t allowed to have any connections with the outside world-had gone out of his way to buy me an iPhone? It just didn’t add up.
A small note slipped out of the box as I lifted the phone. I picked it up and read the words in his unmistakably sharp handwriting:
“Just so I can be able to reach you when necessary. Nothing else.”
I scoffed softly, shaking my head. Typical Armando-blunt and emotionless. It wasn’t like I’d expected a heartfelt explanation, but something about the note made me pause. Was that all this was? A way to keep tabs on me?
Not that it mattered much in the moment. I was too distracted by the phone itself. For years, I’d only had one of those old button phones, the kind that could barely do more than make calls and send texts. I’d sold my smartphone to help pay for my sister’s medications and ever since then, I’d been entirely cut off from the world online.
And when I first came here, Armando had confiscated even that little phone. One of his strict rules was that I couldn’t contact anyone outside these walls. So why now? Why give me this, of all things?
I pushed the questions to the back of my mind. There was no point in overthinking it. Maybe he had his reasons, or maybe this was just another one of his games. Either way, I decided to focus on setting up the phone.
As I went through the process, I felt something stir in me-something close to excitement. It was strange, after everything, to feel this way about a phone. But for someone like me, it was more than just a device. It was freedom. Or at least, the illusion of it.
Once the setup was complete, I carefully placed the phone back in its box and tucked it, along with the rest of the shopping bag, into a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind-or at least that’s what I told myself.
I made my way to the kitchen, trying to shake off the lingering confusion. Cooking had always been my escape, and tonight, I needed it more than ever. I spent the next hour preparing dinner for Armando, focusing on every little detail to keep my mind occupied.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what had happened earlier in my room.
As I cleaned the kitchen counter, my hands slowed and my thoughts spiraled. How was I supposed to face him now? The way his hands had felt on my skin, the way his voice had sent shivers down my spine-I just couldn’t get it out of my head.
I set the cloth down-gripping the edge of the counter for support, and my stomach churned with nerves. I felt heat rise to my cheeks just thinking about him.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.
But it wasn’t just about what happened earlier. It was everything-the phone, the dress, the way he looked at me sometimes like he could see right through me.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.
Or maybe he was worse.
The thought hit me like a brick, and I straightened up, trying to push it away. I didn’t want to believe that everything he’d done was part of some elaborate game. But with Armando, it was hard to tell. He was a puzzle I couldn’t figure out, and maybe I never would.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The dinner was ready, but I wasn’t. The idea of walking into his room again, of standing in front of him after everything, made my chest tighten.
But I had no choice.
I carefully arranged his dinner on his silver tray, making sure everything was in its place. His usual cutlery sat neatly next to the food, and I added a bottle of water to the tray before heading upstairs to his room.
Armando used to eat at the dining table like a normal person, but lately, he’d taken to eating in his room and I just didn’t like it-not because it made my job harder, but because I hated stepping into his personal space, especially after a day like today.
When I reached his door, I hesitated. My stomach twisted as I stared at the dark wood but finally, I knocked, keeping my hand on the tray to steady myself.
No answer.
I knocked again, leaning closer this time.
“Yes,” his voice called out, low and clear from the other side.
I took a deep breath and opened the door just a little, peeking in before stepping inside. For the first time, the lights in his room were on, and I froze for a moment, confused. His room was always dim, as if he preferred the shadows.
“Come in,” he said again, but my feet stayed planted on the floor.
When I finally stepped inside, I immediately wished I hadn’t. Armando stood near the dresser, his back to me, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Water dripped from his hair and down his back, glistening against his skin.
My heart raced. I didn’t know where to look, and my legs felt like they were glued to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, quickly turning my head to the side.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I told you to come in, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but…” I stammered, still looking away. “You could’ve warned me. I mean, you’re… like that.”
“Like what?” His voice held a teasing edge, and I could feel his eyes on me even though I refused to meet them.
“You know what I mean,” I mumbled.
He chuckled softly. “Eleanor, haven’t you ever seen a man in a towel before?”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer. He always had this way of twisting things, making me feel ridiculous.
“You could’ve told me to wait outside,” I said firmly, trying to regain some sense of control.
“And you could stop acting like this is a big deal,” he shot back, his tone now laced with mockery.
I stayed quiet, hoping he’d let it go. But, of course, he didn’t.
“Funny,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “A few hours ago, you were begging to be touched, and now you’re playing the innocent act again. Which one is it?”
My breath hitched, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. I kept my eyes firmly on the floor, wishing I could disappear.
I heard him move, his footsteps slow and deliberate and before I could react, he was behind me, his breath warm and steady against my neck.
“You’re wearing the perfume already,” he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine. “I can smell it. It’s… arousing.”
I swallowed hard, my entire body stiffening. “Where should I put your food?” I asked quickly, ignoring his words.
“You know where,” he said simply, stepping back just enough to let me move.
My legs finally obeyed me, and I walked to his bedside table and set the tray down carefully, my hands trembling slightly.
I avoided looking in his direction as I turned to leave, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.
When I reached the door, I couldn’t help myself as I glanced back over my shoulder.
He was still watching me, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark and intense. The air between us felt heavy, and I struggled to find the right words.
“Thank you,” I said softly, breaking the silence. “For the phone and the other things.”
His gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment I thought he might say something, but he didn’t so I turned away again, my heart pounding, and carefully closed the door behind me.
Once I was on the other side, I leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath.
The tension in that room had been suffocating, and I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.