Carmen's POV
The racing of my heart in my chest was louder than the sound the door made as I gently pushed it open.
Stepping through as quickly as I could before I chickened out.
Turning around to slam the door shut, aware that keeping it open wasn't going to save me.
No one was going to save me.
I wasn't even aware that my gaze was fixed on the floor until I turned back around and lifted my head.
Expecting to see the master, the person who had bought me. A female would be preferred, but if I had any good luck, I wouldn't have ended up in the position I currently stood in.
I froze.
The dining room was empty, save for a long and big table and two chairs placed across from each other.
Clearly, I was to dine with someone that wasn't polite enough to arrive first.
I could sit, but instead I chose to stand. If I sat down, then it would be seen as impolite, since it was impolite to sit before the host was seated.
Not like any of this matters.
Before the night is over, they could be fucking me on this table and there's nothing I could do to stop it.
The table was filled with enough dishes that the hall smelled heavenly. Rich scents filled the air, thick and tempting.
My stomach growled loudly in hunger as the temptation grew, but still I continued to stand, my hands slowly clasping together in front of me.
The fear in my heart only grew as I glanced continuously at the door, wondering what exactly the plan was.
Are they trying to psychologically crush me before they show up? I wondered, hating to admit that it was working.
I was in a strange home, sold as a slave in a black market auction. They could decide to sell my organs, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it.
The thought settled heavily in my chest.
Various possibilities flickered through my mind, one darker than the last.
Then the door was suddenly pushed open.
So suddenly that I couldn't help but flinch.
I jerked back as I looked up, schooling my face into the blank expression I had been taught to always show growing up.
Never show fear.
Never show weakness.
But barely had I fixed the look on my face when slowly it cracked and crumbled as I watched a man walk in, the guards closing the door behind him.
His hands were in his pockets as he walked straight toward me.
Custom-tailored three-piece suit. Matte black. Leather shoes.
The luxury watch was expected, since it was clear that he came dressed.
What I was grossly unprepared to see was a familiar gaze and those cold, dark, slanted eyes that settled on me as he moved closer.
His dark hair was slicked back to frame his face, and his blue eyes met mine as he walked closer with an almost smug smile on his face.
"Bro—" I began, only to pause, catching myself in time.
The man in front of me looked like the brother I saw five years ago, but they might as well be strangers.
He was taller.
And from the open white shirt he wore with no tie, tattoos were peeking out of his neck, showing that he was probably covered in them.
There was a deep scar on his forehead, carefully hidden by his hair, but not enough. The moment he got close enough, I could see it clearly.
I snapped my open mouth shut, gritting my teeth together as I balled my fists, my heart racing wildly in my chest.
Silently, I sent a prayer to God.
Please let him not be the master. Let him be an attendant, an assistant, anything…
But even before I was done, I knew my prayer went unanswered.
Nico stopped in front of me, towering over me with ease as I looked up simply to meet his gaze.
"It's been a while," he breathed.
This time, I sent out a wish to whatever was listening, hoping the ground would simply swallow me up.
No surprise when that also didn't happen.
His gaze remained fixed on me with the same cold, dangerous, and hungry look I last saw on him before he was thrown out.
"You look good," he told me.
I struggled to calm my breathing, biting down on my inner lip as I slowly nodded my head.
Too much like a mentally damaged person for my liking.
"You too," I said, hating how hoarse my voice sounded. There was nothing I could do to fix it as I slightly cleared my throat.
Asking the question that needed to be asked, my eyes widened as he walked past me, the smell of his scent unlike any I had ever taken in.
Expensive.
"Are you the master?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he pulled out a chair for me to sit before walking to the one at the head of the table and taking his seat.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked as he slowly uncovered the dishes and began to serve himself.
It took all the manners that had been incinerated into me to keep my tone steady as hunger tore apart my stomach.
I didn't know how bad it was until the direct smell of the food reached me fully.
The rich scent of meat, butter, and spices made my stomach twist painfully.
I served myself as civilly as I could, careful with my movements despite the urgency clawing inside me.
But I had just taken a knife to the juicy steak, slicing through a big piece of it, when I heard him speak.
He hadn't taken a bite from his own plate.
"You're not worried it might be poisoned?"
"You wouldn't kill your one billion dollars," I instantly responded, with more impatience than I could spare.
I lifted the meat toward my lips.
Then paused as I heard him speak again.
"…Yes. But I could drug her and fuck her over this table until I'm satisfied.
Then when I'm done, I'll call the two guards by the door and have them continue…"
The piece of meat stopped just short of my mouth.
It was his tone that sounded most dangerous.
There was no anger in his voice.
He spoke conversationally.
Calm.
Controlled.
Like he was discussing something ordinary.
But his eyes told another story.