Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
"Ivy." My voice comes out so sharply, she does finally flinch. "Tell me."
"Don't act as if you care." She yanks away from my grip and glares up at me with watery eyes. "Why should it matter? You are the biggest hypocrite I've ever met. Starving me all day and then coming in here to act as if a cut matters to you."
A deep grimace settles over my features. "Starving you?"
Her lip trembles and she looks away. "You hate me. I can see it in your eyes. I don't know why you want me here. Just so you can torture me? Then go on and do your worst. Show me how terrible you truly are."
I should. Because she's right. I do hate her. I hate her more than I ever knew I could hate anything. Yet I can't bring myself to prove it at this moment. I can't allow her cutting remarks to slide as if they are of no consequence. There are so many ways I will apply my cruelty to her. But she is to carry my child, and if she thinks I would starve her while she does so, she is mistaken.
"Tell me what you ate today." I grip her chin and force her gaze back to me.
She looks at me as though I'm teasing her. "You know the answer to that."
"Tell me," I growl.
She wavers, trying desperately to hold onto her stubborn refusal, but is still tethered by the values ingrained into her. She knows she is to please her husband.
"I ate the only thing they brought me!" she hisses. "Toast and orange juice. Does that satisfy you, Lord of Darkness?"
My fingers bite into her skin under the force of my anger, and she cringes. When I realize the power of my grip, I soften it and close my eyes, trying to rein myself back in.
"They brought you only one meal today?"
She is quiet for a moment before she answers, her voice softer this time. "Yes."
"That was a mistake," I answer darkly as I release her.
* * *
My thunderous footsteps startle the housekeeper awake before I even reach her door. She is scrambling out of her bed, clinging to her bedsheets when the glow from the hall spills into her room. I never come to this part of The Manor, so she knows something is amiss.
"Mr. De La Rosa," the words falls helplessly from her lips. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything is not okay." I stalk toward her, and she stumbles back, nearly tripping over the sheet in her pale grasp.
"This is about the food, isn't it?" She winces. "Oh, please have mercy. I beg of you."
"Mercy?" I spit the word from my lips with such vehemence she begins to shake. "What mercy should there be for a woman who can't perform the most basic task of feeding my goddamn wife!"
Tears begin to cascade over her cheeks as she shakes her head in denial. "But it was your order, sir! And I know I fed her against your wishes, but she was feeling faint, and I simply could not..."
I draw in a sharp breath and try to calm myself.
"Master, please," Antonia sobs. "I did not mean to offend."
I turn away from her and drag a hand over my face. I hate it when she calls me that. Antonia has known me since I was a boy, and truly, it does not please me to see the old woman cry. She showed me kindness when so many others did not. She cleaned my wounds and kept me fed and never once treated me to a repulsive glance, even at my worst.
In my gut, I know this was not her doing. She is not capable of such betrayal. And for a moment, I wish I could express that sentiment to her. But the dynamic has changed so much since I returned from the hospital. My unpredictable moods and harsh demands have left the staff scurrying around the mansion like church mice, trying their best to remain unseen and unheard. They do not know what to make of the cold, reclusive man who walked out of the flames that night. And I am certain they only see me as the monster I am now.
"Tell me why my wife was only fed once today." I turn back to her slowly, watching Antonia dab her eyes with the sheet.
She takes a shuddering breath and collects herself with a nod. "Mercedes came to me with the instructions this morning," she says softly. "She told me they were your orders. I was only doing as I was told, sir."
Mercedes.
Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision as I give her a stiff nod. "Let me be clear, Antonia. My wife's health is a priority until I say otherwise. That means any orders pertaining to her will only come directly from me. She will eat when she is hungry, and should she have any other needs, I trust you will meet them accordingly."