Proserpina
The house he brought me to was situated on a quaint street lined with tall trees that stood rigidly along the roadside. Paved walkways bordered the neatly arranged neighborhood, and a few residents were out and about, walking their dogs, jogging, or simply enjoying a leisurely stroll. The row of houses looked eerily alike, each one mirroring the other across the street. Every front yard featured a small garden, some meticulously maintained and others with sparse vegetation, which seemed typical for the area. It appeared to be an upper-middle-class residential neighborhood—quiet and unassuming. Some houses had double-door garages open, showcasing the sleek vehicles of the residents.
It was discreet, a place where no one would question their neighbors, or so I would later find out.
When we arrived at one such house, Lucien's bodyguards exited first. While one held the door open for us to disembark from the large luxury sedan, the other stood vigilant, scanning the surroundings with sharp eyes. Once again, a fluttery sense of panic surged within me; who exactly was this man, my lover? I knew so little about him...
I knew his name, that he was a significant figure at the Minotaur, Hollowford's premier fight club; I also knew he was a filthy rich playboy. That last thought made my heart sink, but I straightened my posture and felt a spark of happiness as I remembered that he had decided I would live with him from now on.
But why did he bring me to another house? the evil voice inside me whispered. Is it because he's ashamed of me? Uncertainly, I glanced at the man with silver-grey hair and the deep lines on his face, who was barking orders over his phone, a tablet clutched in his left hand.
The curtains in the house opposite the one we arrived at fluttered, and I had a nagging feeling that someone was watching us.
Drawing closer to Lucien, I felt a sense of reassurance as he pulled me close and approached the door, with his man leading the way. The white door was swiftly opened by a stern-faced Hispanic woman in an apron. When she looked up and saw Lucien, her expression changed dramatically to a more accommodating one.
"Loretta," he said almost indifferently, "Loretta Gomez. This is Proserpina. She'll be staying here from now on."
The woman stared at me, her sharp eyes noting Lucien's arm around my waist, gliding over my expensive attire, observing the flush in my cheeks, and the look of contempt that crossed her face made me step back, stumbling as I was caught off guard. Her thin lips curled into a sneer before being replaced by a cold expression.
Lucien hadn't noticed this minor confrontation as he was speaking to his men while we stood in the foyer. He grabbed my arm and led me into the cool interior of the house.
"Loretta Gomez is the housekeeper," he explained almost absentmindedly as we walked. I noticed the small, cozy-looking kitchen along one side of the corridor as we passed by.
"She'll be here during the daytime if you need anything," he continued, oblivious to the horror on my face.
A sense of unease settled over me. The woman's eyes seemed to bore into my back.
But Lucien was already moving ahead, down the hallway, opening a door that led into a compact living room. A carpeted staircase at the end of the corridor indicated there were rooms upstairs.
With his hands on his hips, Lucien surveyed the room. Then he turned to look at me questioningly, raising an eyebrow at my confused expression.
His stern face softened as he gazed at me.
"Come here, little girl," he growled, and I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around his strong waist, tilting my head to look up at him, my eyes brimming with unshed tears and a million unanswered questions threatening to spill out in distress.
He lowered his head and kissed me hungrily, and I, foolish as I was, gave in to his touch immediately, forgetting everything around us, desperate to be with him, to feel his body against mine.
A sharp knock on the door caused us to part, and I saw a flash of annoyance cross Lucien's face as he turned his head.
The housekeeper stood there, expressionless, but I could tell from the spiteful look in her narrow eyes that she had come intentionally.
I angrily wondered how long she had been standing there. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Seeing Lucien's frown, she stammered, feigning innocence,
"My apologies, Sir. I just wanted to know if you would be staying for lunch.... as you always used to do when Ms....ummm..."
The tightening of Lucien's facial muscles made me tense as the meaning of her subtly phrased words became clear.
I turned to look at Lucien in confusion.
"What did she mean by 'staying for lunch as you used to do?'"
The coldness in Lucien's voice made me tremble with apprehension as he said quietly, his face a mask of anger,
"You may leave, Ms. Gomez." As the woman looked on in astonishment, he continued, dangerously soft,
"And take your things with you as you leave. Brandon will collect the keys from you."
I stiffened. My lover, Lucien Delano, was dismissing this woman?
Did she reveal the evidence of his affairs?
Her face seemed to drain of color at his ultimatum. Wringing her hands with a dishcloth, she turned to leave, but not before giving me a look of pure hatred as she shuffled out.
Turning to his men who had entered behind her with my bags—a mismatched couple of large, ancient, and battered suitcases that had seen better days—he added dismissively,
"Trent, collect the keys from her as she leaves. I want her out of here in fifteen minutes."
I realized he was going to leave me alone in this strange house and grabbed his arm, clinging like a child as I whispered,
"Are... You're leaving already?"
A flicker of impatience crossed his face, and I quickly let my hand drop.
My voice had sounded whiny, like a needy child, and I guessed he hated such clingy women.
No, I thought fiercely, I would be the type of woman he wanted me to be. Strong and spirited. And Lucien Delano would love me forever.
Easier said than done!
He seemed to relent as his eyes met mine; moving closer, he touched my face, stroking my lower lip, completely ignoring his men who were bustling around.
And once more, I swayed, like a dog eager for her master's touch, looking up at him, my adoration shining in my eyes.
"I'll be back at night," he grunted, kissing me—a quick, hard, and possessive kiss—before continuing,
"Make yourself at home, little one. And keep yourself ready for me," he murmured before his mouth descended again in a long kiss that seemed to assert his ownership over me.
My heart pounded as I watched him stride out, dragging his left leg slightly as he went, his men following closely.
The sound of the door slamming shut definitively made me understand that this was how things would be in my new life. The house was eerily quiet, and with a sigh, I began unpacking, humming with joy.
For a while, I sat, debating whether to call Tanya and Rachel or not. Then, deciding against it, I sent her a voice message. I would be taking too many questions, and I wasn't ready for that yet, I told myself as I started arranging my belongings in the small bedroom upstairs...