I'm being kidnapped!
He pulled me into him, inches away, he nonchalantly ripped my dress, bare skin showing, and he scanned my scraped.
Trying my best to hide it, his other hand gripped my two hands effortlessly behind my back. The man in the passenger seat handed him a knot, but he declined. I whimper in protest. I found myself in a state of being ashamed, cheeks being pinched like a tomato; he seriously hates the word space.
What does he want? Tend the wound while I was taken hostage?
Questions arise, it is giving me the benefit of the doubt whether or not he found out I was not the real Llorente or not.
His head leaned a bit toward my legs, with a gentle touch, and my body tensed. My chest will burst in no time. With his actions, he side-eyed me, who was intently staring at his side profile, then he looked again at my scraped leg it is as if it was a painting displayed in the museum. He then took something from his pocket, a white handkerchief, and carefully folded it lengthwise until it formed a straight strip ready to tie as if a first aid to my wound. Gently tying it, he silently goes back to his seat, a bit relaxed. There was a pindropped silence after.
The questions and doubts in me piled up twice. Was this act of him... a facade or an in-depth personality of his? His aura is way too far beneath the asshole he has shown earlier; it is as if his tongue does not speak ill. It is as if he is an angel sent.
My body feels heavy, tired of the experience I went through. I couldn't help but fall asleep on the backseat, beside him, beside Regan Rancere.
Speed enough, I loosened, like a prey that's now under control, like a prey that is willing to be bitten.
I WOKE UP with the scent of sweetened candles that lingered in my nose. There, it revealed the sophisticated yet masculine chamber before me. From the mystique ceiling filled with translucent, modernized chandeliers, a luxurious closet, and monogrammed containers of jewelry, including limited-edition watches and perfume, to its layout, my own room will not be in comparison! The private room I was in at this moment spoke deep vermillion and dramatic black-- like his two orbs, which are now piercing through my back.
I saw him nonchalantly reading a newspaper-- in which I thought absentmindedly that his room was the opposite of him. Are there still people who read the news on a piece of paper? Duuh! You can just swipe up and down through online surfing. I started furrowing my brows when I realized where I was. His sculpted jaw tilted a bit. Morning puffiness was not in his vocabulary; he still looks fine, what a dapper!
In a moment, he lowered the newspaper, walked towards me. I panicked and sat down awkwardly, looked away, and kinda felt humiliated because I was still wearing the dress I wore last night's event. The most embarrassing moment is that I don't know where I placed my belongings, so I can change my clothes now. I felt the side corner of the bed lower, indicating that something or someone sat down there.
Unwantingly appreciating the ceiling, he spoke in a husky voice, "Wear this and go downstairs afterwards, we will be having breakfast."
That is the time he caught my attention, with him having a hard time decoding what my hand motions were telling about, I angrily motioned a big question mark for him to understand, "Why the hell would I be joining him? Me? Getting kidnapped and a current hostage? Why? Where in the goddamn right mind... is someone crazy enough to do that stunt? Of all people? Him? The mighty and notorious Regan Rancere? With me? On the same damn table?"
He stared back, intently, silently observing my actions. He pushed the buttons, and I irritably looked for a pen and a piece of paper. Why was I damn amusement for him to get silent every damn time? Oh god forgive me for I am a Sinner and spitting curses the whole time I was with him.
Who's the damn mute between us?
When I reached for the pen, I scribbled a middle finger sign and erased it messily I, then wrote "I don't even know why the hell I was here, you do know me, right? You seriously do know what you were doing right now, so why the hell would I eat something from you knowing that you kidnapped me?" With a serious face, I handed it to him. I looked at it and looked at me from below afterwards. I did not realize I was inches away from him. Giving him the benefit of the doubt if he ever found out that I am an impostor, or does he know something already? He vaguely had a glimpse of what I scribbled.
His hands stopped midway, reaching for something. At first glance, I thought he was after the pen and paper so he could reply, but I was wrong. He pulled me closer to him, his hand on my waist like he was intentionally measuring it as if it were his own. I could not even react; it was a fast move, I was forcefully seated down on his hardened lap, and I felt his chiselled legs on mine.
"To bubble your thoughts, Little Miss charlatan, I am much aware of who you are-- you are way more of my earnest prey than a 'hostage', and lastly, eating with me means a win-win situation, you could broadcast online to the public that I bedded you... and made memories with me, kneeling before me, begging for some pennies, and threats," he replied, more of a suggestion concerning my situation at this moment.
If he knew already, why the hell am I here, by the way?
I could not unclasp with his grasp, his hand towards them of my dress, he then reached for the scraped skin of mine, touched it gently, moving, forming a line. I gasped. My thoughts abounded. No words registering in my head, I couldn't move even a little.
"I have met the Llorentes once, luckily enough, you were there too, recognized you once, and made an impression," he added, pausing for a while with his fingers. I choked. He then hijacked me, "You were wondering why I kept you after deceiving me... oh wait, after slapping me?" he continued, caressing my scraped leg, gradually fooling me with his fingers going upwards, enough to misbehave and go out of line.
"It's because of your damn face," he admitted bitterly.
I couldn't comprehend his words. At this moment, I reacted, resisting, and I tried to unclasp his grip. What about my face? Is it my face's fault for getting recognized by him? My facial features are quite ordinary after all. So, what's with his reasoning? I couldn't resist grudgingly accepting his notion.
His phone rang, making a vibration in the tight space between us. Got interrupted, he picked up his phone from his pocket, answering it dispassionately like he had never been in a heated argument and confrontation with me just seconds ago. What a two-faced jerk!
Still sitting on his lap, I stayed silent. Waiting for him to get finished, I did not move either. He is really allergic to the term space huh?
"Change your clothes, we will be heading out after having meals," him changing the topic. I, without a second-thought, move my body a bit to make eye contact with him. Welcoming his thick brows and bloodshot eyes, I dare to raise an eyebrow, I mouthed, "Finish what were you talking about?! Answer my damn question." I calmed myself, patiently, waited for his response.
"Do I have to repeat my words? Change your clothes or I, myself, am going to change it for you?" he replied with a commanding tone, ignoring my queries, on the point of his hands paving its way to the knitted top of mine, I immediately stood up, he, too. He walked towards the door, but before leaving the room, he left a puzzling counterstatement.
"Gamble your days with me and I will provide you an honest answer to take the wine out of your sails," he declared, leaving me hanging. His silhouette was hidden by the door's enclosure.
Not an ordinary morning for the next days, I guess?
I left my friend a note informing her that I would be gone for months in order to continue my search for my biological mother, but I doubted that she would proactively seek me out.