Vanessa
The dickweed just smirks back at me. Leading me over to the table, he gestures for me to sit beside him. The older woman smiles and places a full plate in front of him. "Para mantenerte fuerte y saludable (to keep you strong and healthy)," she says.
As he thanks the woman serving him, I resist the urge to scoff at his facade. Grandma must be oblivious to the fact that he's a violent, dangerous murderer.
"¿Tiene hambre, Senora (Are you hungry, ma'am)?" Staring at me, she patiently awaits my answer to whatever the hell she just asked me. Diego quickly intervenes in Spanish, and she smiles and nods. For a moment, I anticipate that she'd return to the kitchen and grab me some food, but she simply leaves.
Well, I guess just fuck me then.
No matter how friendly this old lady appears, she works for a monster, so she was already on my shit list. But after that, she just moved up to spot two after Diego.
I wonder if this is a punishment for trying to escape. It's okay though, I can survive without food. I once went for five whole days with just tap water when our father was late with his monthly grocery drop-off.
"Sit on my lap, Mama," Diego suddenly orders.
I shoot him a glare and snort dismissively. "In your fucking dreams."
His jaw tightens with impatience. "Now. It wasn't a request."
When I don't budge, he harshly grabs my arm and pulls me from the seat onto his lap. I try to wiggle from his grasp, but he pins me down. "Stay," he barks.
Tears sting my eyes as I stop resisting, but my body remains rigid. His touch causes that unfamiliar throbbing between my legs once again, and I fucking hate it. I can't take this shit anymore...him trying to control me, his violating touches, or my body silently begging for more!
"Eat, Mascota. I am responsible for taking care of you for the next six months. I will not keep allowing you to make my job difficult."
I don't respond, I just glare off into the distance. I wonder how I can access the kitchen and find a knife. I guess it depends on how fast I can run.
As I tremble with fury, that I'm sure he can feel, he begins his meal as if it's normal. Shit, maybe it is for him. I'm sure he's done this to many unwilling women.
I look down at the plate - pancakes, eggs, and bacon. It's smells so delicious, so tempting, but I refuse to ask this asshole for anything.
I'd rather starve!
"You're a stubborn one," Diego grumbles, "I know you're hungry, I can hear your stomach growling. Eat."
He snatches a strip of bacon, probably checking that it's long enough to keep his fingers intact. Then, he teasingly brushes it against my lips. The hickory aroma wafts in my nostrils, making me drool.
No. I won't give in.
"Open, Mascota," he growls, his voice low and commanding.
Damn it! Fine!
Reluctantly, I part my lips and he pops the bacon in. I chew it with anger, my arms folded defiantly across my chest. The bursts of flavor on my tongue are so good, I have to hold back a moan.
Damn, Grandma can cook!
He lets out a chuckle, his chest rumbling against my back. "Good girl. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
I roll my eyes, but immediately after I swallow, I want more. But I'll be damned if I ask for it.
"Eat more," he says as if he can read my mind. "If you don't want to speak to me, that's fine. Tap on the table once if you want more and twice when you're full."
I nod, surprised that he's willing to do this instead of forcing food down my throat.
He completely abandons eating to feed me. First, he gives me bacon, then forkfuls of eggs and pancakes. After each bite, he waits for me to tap the table. He finally stops when I tap twice, feeling like my stomach might burst.
"Good girl," he croons. "See how simple things could be if you cooperate?" I grunt in response, not wanting to feed into his fantasy that he's training me. I remind myself that I'm simply doing what I must in order to survive.
He calls one of his men into the room in Spanish. Leroy, I think his name is. He's a big ass dude with fair skin and a bald head. I recognize him as the one that lit my home on fire, and if he wasn't so terrifying, I would find an opportunity to kick his balls into his stomach like I did with Danny.
"¿Está lista la hermana (is the sister ready)?" Diego asks.
I recognize that word. Sister.
God, I'm going to have to find a Spanish-English dictionary around here.
They have a brief conversation in Spanish, and then Leroy leaves.
"What did you say about my sister?" I demand.
"I asked him if she was ready. Apparently, she's busy fucking my men, but they should be done and ready by the time we are," he replies, casually sticking a piece of bacon in his mouth.
Everything I just ate threatens to come back up. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she needs to get a fucking grip, or I'll leave her ass here with them when I escape.
"You just let your men do whatever they want with women, huh?" I grit out.
"Are you asking me if I employ rapists?" he replies, a calm malice coloring his words. When I don't reply, he continues, "the answer is fuck no. If I found out one of them violated a woman like that, I would chop their dick off myself. And from what I just heard, your sister is enthusiastic about all the attention."
My heart races, anger pumping through my veins. My sister is no mafia whore...at least, I won't let her be.
"I-I... Her name is Alicia," I manage to retort.
"Okay," he says, amusement in his voice. "Alicia is enthusiastic about all the attention she's getting fucking my men."
I wince at his callous words. Okay, I rather him not say her name in a statement like that, but at least now he won't just call her "the sister".
While I silently fume, he raises me from his lap. "Come on, it's time for us to get ready. We have a busy day ahead of us."