Page 28 of Enraptured

“You should go. Fuck Christos. I can take care of myself.”

“I wish I could. My husband is there with him. I can’t risk crossing Christos and put my son’s life in jeopardy.”

“I don’t know. If I was sick…I’d want my mom.”

Her face turns red. “Now, you know why I hate you. Forgive him for whatever he did. Let him back in your bed, so I can just get on with my life and get back to my son.”

“Let me get this straight—you want me to whore myself out to the devil, so you can get back to your life?”

“Why not. It’s not like you haven’t before.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it? You’re not the first woman he’s toyed with…just give him what he wants and maybe he’ll grow tired of you like the rest.”

“Then what happens?”

“Nothing. You go home.”

“It’s not that simple.” She obviously doesn’t know how far he went to make everyone believe I was really gone.

She leaves to make herself tea and I make my way upstairs. I smell like the stables. I take a long, hot shower, feeling surprisingly tired when I get out. The bump under my wrist still hurts if I bang it the wrong way, but I forget about it when the shrill ringing of a cell phone sounds from the pocket of my jeans that I left on the floor.

El Diablo. He input his name as that…it flashes across the screen. Seconds later the phone pings with a text:

STAY OUT OF MY MOTHER’S STUDY.

Make me.I type back.

Ah, little dove wants to play?

I don’t respond. I can’t. Part of me misses sparring with him, but I always end up losing these battles when I’m forced to recognize how much his games turn me on despite everything.

Minutes later, my punishment comes. He sent me a screenshot of my obituary from the San Diego Sun newspaper. I bite my knuckle in anguish. I hurl the phone across the room, screaming and cursing his name. No one will ever find a person they think is already gone. The article had the date. I’ve been here almost a month and didn’t even feel the weeks flying by. I’ve lost all sense of time—all sense of myself.

My sobs echo all around me as I sit huddled in the middle of the floor, grieving for the girl I was before him. Wishing I never left California. For the first time, I truly believed this is it for me. There really is no way out.

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