After getting dressed, Max disappeared into his closet, reappearing with the outfit he’d selected for her to wear.
He left the room after making his demand, his voice trailing over his shoulder with the instruction for her to meet him in the kitchen when she was finished.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” she whispered, unsure why she felt rejected by his irritable and arrogant mood.
Snatching the dress from the floor, she stood up on achy legs to stand before the full-length mirror. No underwear, no bra, just a shell of a dress with buttons up the front, a blue sash as a belt to cinch it at her waist.
Pulling the cloth over her shoulders, she fastened the buttons one by one before tying the sash and looking at her reflection in the mirror. The dress was quite beautiful, despite its simplicity, but her hair was a frightful mess of blonde limp tendrils. Reaching up, she braided the mess back to give it the illusion of being styled before huffing out a breath and making her way out of the room and down three flights of stairs.
From the kitchen came loud clanging sounds, pots and pans being pulled from cabinets, the sizzle of bacon heard seconds before the smell hit her nose like an avalanche of temptation. Her stomach rumbled as she stepped barefoot from the wood floors of the entry hall onto the cool stone tile.
“I’m here,” she stated softly, her eyes flicking between Max and the television screen positioned at the top left corner of the room. The woman, still hooded, sat still on the edge of the bed, her body covered in the same dress that Alice now wore.
Her brows furrowing with confusion, she wondered why the woman on screen was always dressed identical. Her mouth opened to ask the question, but she shook her head deciding against the risk of angering a man who was already agitated.
“Take a seat at the center island, Alice. Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”
An obedient lamb sitting down to the slaughter, not a word from her mouth in protest of the butcher. That’s how she felt every time she acquiesced to his demands, each moment she submitted to him without argument or complaint.
Plates were set down on the table before her, a different design than the ones she’d shattered the night before. Eggs and bacon, toast and juice, an ordinary meal despite the circumstances that were far too dismal to be normal.
“Eat.”
Every command he barked was as curt and emotionless as the one before it.
Picking up her fork, she ignored the whispers inside her head, the nagging reminders that she was giving in too easily. She was stronger than this, a fighter, a woman who’d endured her entire life despite the crushing blows and painful torment that had accompanied her from sleep into reality.
However, her body knew what to do despite her mind’s inability to conform. Her body was hungry. Her body was needy. Her body made her a slave to the demands of the man who now stood above her watching.
Slipping the tines of the fork into the scrambled eggs, she fed herself slowly, chewing thoughtfully on the food that would sustain her. Instead of the aversion she felt the previous night, she enjoyed the salty slide across her tongue, the warmth that traveled down her throat to land on an empty belly. Relief was found in the comfort of the nourishment he’d provided her.
“I have a surprise for you today. Something I know you’ll appreciate. It comes with a price, just like anything in life, but one that’s not too steep.”
Glancing up at him from beneath the thickness of her light colored lashes, she attempted a polite smile that was more strained than pleasant. “Will it hurt me? The surprise or the price?”
Unamused by the tone of her question, Max leaned back against the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of coffee held in his hands, his lips pursed to blow over the surface of the liquid. His face was clean shaven, the dust of shadow gone following the shower he’d taken that morning.
Alice watched him when he wasn’t looking, her eyes playing over the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the strong, square jaw that gave him a rugged, but cultured appearance. Despite the scar that marred the left side of his face, he was elegant in his features. With a straight nose that ran above full and sculpted lips, he had eyes that were pale and cold, a sparkling blue that were in stark contrast to obsidian hair and tan skin. An enigma wrapped in beauty, he was as alluring as he was fierce.
A question toyed over her thoughts. Afraid to ask, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her curiosity too much for her to keep her silence.
“What happened to you, Max?”
His eyes pinned her in their callous stare, studying her over the rim of the cup from which he sipped. His throat worked to swallow down the steaming liquid before he pulled the cup away to place it on the counter. “What do you mean?”