The Boss (Chateau 3)

An hour later, several sets of boots sounded outside the front door. The lock was turned, and a guard carried my tray of food to the edge of my bed before he departed. He took his position on one side of the open door, while another stood on the other side, as if they were guarding the entrance.

Then another pair of heavy footfalls sounded, growing louder and louder as the man rose up the steps and entered my cabin. In his black bomber jacket with the gray hood, his massive shoulders stressing the material at the seams and the same coldness in his dark eyes, he planted his feet.

The door shut behind him.

I didn’t move for the food. A long day of work made me hungry every day, but that appetite was chased away by the terrifying man who invaded my space and took away my freedoms.

I didn’t cry this time, but I was fucking scared.

His gaze had the same searing nature as before, like a hot branding iron against my skin, except his look wasn’t warm, but so cold that it burned like dry ice. His jacket was open in the front, showing his black shirt underneath that outlined the discrete lines of his pecs. He was muscular beneath all those clothes; there was no doubt about it, like a bear or something. His invasive look lasted a bit longer before he lowered himself into the armchair across from me, taking the exact same position as before. His hand gripped the armrests, his fingertips curling underneath the wood. His hands were visible, monstrous in size, covered with cords of veins. He hardly blinked as he stared at me, his look constant and piercing, like a knife right between my ribs. “Eat.”

I didn’t turn to the tray beside me. I didn’t want to drop my guard, not even for a second, even though this would be a match I could never win. My hands tightened the blanket around me, the material covering my appearance and perhaps making me less desirable.

“You’re cold. Make a fire.”

All I could do was shake my head.

He stared at me for another minute, having distinct characteristics of a statue. He was stony, still, solid.

I just wanted him to leave. Please leave…

He rose to his feet and moved to the fireplace.

I flinched at his movement and immediately scooted away, pushing the tray out of the way so I could fill the space it had once been in.

He stilled and looked at me.

I breathed hard, afraid of the repercussions.

His stony expression didn’t change. It never seemed to change. It was impossible to gauge the thoughts of a statue, something lifeless, something created with knives and sharp tools. He continued his movements and grabbed the lighter sitting on top of the fireplace. He bent down, piled the wood into the hearth, lit it on fire, and then stepped back.

The flames came alive and immediately filled the cabin with warmth, lighting up the darkness and chasing away the shadows…except his shadow.

He returned to his armchair and took a seat once more.

The staring continued.

My eyes remained on the floor, waiting for the assault to begin.

It never came.

Thirty minutes of silence passed, my food got cold, and his eyes never strayed from my face.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak. “What do you want?” I kept the blanket bundled around me even though I was actually too warm from the fire. But I held on to it like a life raft in the middle of the ocean.

“You to eat.”

My eyes returned to his. “Please…leave me alone.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you won’t—” I couldn’t even bring myself to say that disgusting, grotesque word. A word that should be eliminated from society because the act had been eradicated. It should be like smallpox, something that had been wiped from the face of the earth, so it wasn’t even discussed anymore.

His brown eyes were the same color as the cabins, a dark, earthy color, with gentle flecks of different colors, like gold, amber, and other subtle hues that could be found in the forest. But the intensity of his gaze was not from this world, but deep below…in a place where he would return when his time on this earth expired. “I want you.” Every word that came out of his mouth was deliberate and simple. He spoke plainly, but very little. “But that’s not the way I want to have you.”

Every muscle in my body relaxed a little, holding on to his words like he’d just pardoned me from an execution. I clung to those words, felt the air slowly leave my lungs, felt my eyes close for a brief moment as the relief I felt entered every single inch of my face. My reaction was uncontrollable, and I could feel the hint of moisture that rose from my throat and entered my eyes. I looked at him again and almost thanked him…but I didn’t because I shouldn’t have to.