Page 89 of Inside the Sun

Someone like Ragnar.

Wait, what? Yesterday was just an episode of my insanity, a flicker that passed the moment he said no.

I try to reason with myself, to see how stupid it sounds, but the thought sticks. Something in my brain whispers:Yes, he could give you that. I know it. I feel it.

But oh well, he has to hold back anyway. This place is a hellhole, and there’s no escape. And he’s right, if we fuck, we won’t just die. It’ll beugly.

***

After lunch, I’m lost again. I don’t know what to do with myself. At some point, I wander into the kitchen. I’ve never been here before.

It’s big, more like a restaurant kitchen than one in a home. Several people are working, all betas. One of them, maybe the head chef, stares at me like he’s seen a ghost, mouth literally hanging open.

"Hi. I was hoping to get a snack, if that’s okay?"

I’m not even hungry. But it’s another form of human interaction. A way to stop being a ‘prisoner’ and start being a ‘resident’, maybe.

They all stare. Every single one of them. Shit. I must be really out of place here. Maybe even interrupting their work.

They’ve already started prepping for the banquet; boxes of ingredients stacked in the corner, wine bottles, jars of olives, baskets of fruit.

"Yeah, of course. Have a seat. I’ll bring you something," the chef says, and his face says what the rest are thinking.

Shock. Either from my bruised-up face, or just the fact that someone like me, a worthless fucktoy, dared to walk in here like he belongs. No one in this room is confused about what my role is.

While I’m waiting, the door opens and three soldiers walk in, two I recognize: Massimo and Franco, but one I haven’t seen before. Is he a new soldier here? They slow down when they spot me, but they’re not as surprised as the kitchen staff. They sit at the same long table, just on the opposite side.

It’s clearly where the employees eat, lots of room. I sit perfectly still, unsure what to do.

They start talking about some rugby match, pretending I’m not there, but I catch their glances.

Especially from the one I don’t know, the quietest of the three. He’s watching me more than the others.

Then, out of nowhere, he speaks.

"How you doing, babe?" He gives me this weird, crooked smile.

"Could be better," I answer grimly.

"What can I do to make it better?" he says, and the other two shoot him warning looks. Massimo even elbows him under the table.

The guy just shrugs. It really seems like he's new here and has no idea who I am.

In the meantime, the chef brings me a snack, some kind of bruschetta with tomato and salmon. There’s also coffee for the soldiers.

I eat quickly. I wasn’t even hungry in the first place. Now I just want to get the hell out of here, fast. I know better than to expect sympathy from people like this. What I’d get is a round of laughter, most likely.

I leave the kitchen and head into the garden, stopping at the flower beds. I let out a long breath—

"Hey," a voice says behind me.

It’s that soldier. The one who spoke in the kitchen. He tilts his head and grins like an animal. One of his teeth is gold. Knocked out in a fight, maybe?

"You’re cute, you know that?"

"Are you new or something?" I ask, barely believing a simple soldier would try to hit on the capo’s fucktoy.

His arrogant face twists into something even cockier.

---