4

She had been involved with terrible men in the past, but Lison surpassed them all. In other words, he had tried to kidnap her aunt, locked her up, and now he was screwing her as if there were no tomorrow. At least he was a good lover.

She still wasn't clear about his intentions. If he had something against her aunt Elena, didn’t that make her his enemy too? Libia snorted; she had gotten used to being there. Compared to the real world, those four walls felt safer.

“I’m going crazy,” she said out loud.

Three days passed without Lison visiting her. Somehow, that made her anxious. Watching TV wasn’t enough; her mind kept replaying those torrid encounters where that man made her lose her mind, his member causing her to gag.

Her mouth watered; three days had passed, and her panties were wet just thinking about him. She cleared her throat, then walked to the bed and lay down, closing her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, hoping time would pass faster that way.

The next day, Lison still didn’t appear. Libia began to feel trapped, more by her uncontrollable desires than by those four walls.

Night fell, and as usual, she went to take a bath. When she came out, she noticed someone lying on the bed. It was him.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered without further explanation.

She obeyed without hesitation; she had been longing for this.

“I see someone missed me.”

Libia said nothing, overwhelmed by excitement, as she approached him and unbuttoned his pants.

...

Elsewhere, unaware of all this, Natalia was worried. She hadn't heard from her friend in over a month and feared the worst had happened. That day, finally, Mrs. Musso allowed her to talk in person rather than just through email.

Her personal assistant told Natalia she could go see Elena.

“Mrs. Musso, good evening. I wanted to ask about Libia; it’s been a while since I’ve heard from her, and she’s not answering her phone…”

“She’s on vacation, as I already informed you, Miss Rodríguez, or am I mistaken?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, but it seems strange that she would go on a trip without even keeping her phone on.”

“That’s how Libia is. I thought you knew her by now. That girl just wastes money. I bet she’s found some old man and is having the time of her life, while you’re here, a bundle of nerves,” Elena said, adjusting her jet-black hair.

“Thank you,” Natalia replied and left the office.

She knew Libia wasn’t the most responsible person, but she wouldn’t just disappear without saying anything. Something must be going on, and she would find out what it was.

...

Afterward, Libia felt satisfied but not tired. She had many questions and no answers.

“Mr. Lison,” she called out.

Tiodor was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No, go to sleep,” he replied.

“Come on, you owe me for being your personal whore,” she said.

Tiodor rolled his eyes.

“What exactly is the issue you have with my aunt? I know she’s a witch, but what did she do to make someone like you want to end her life?”

Lison got up from the bed, naked, with no intention of answering since he didn’t feel the need to.

Libia sat back, knowing he wouldn’t respond, but at least she tried.

In the following days, Lison didn’t return. Outside that house, Tiodor had many other responsibilities.

One day, Sarah entered his office and asked how the Musso situation was going.

“She’s an unbearable brat,” he simply replied.

“Do you think she’s ready to hand over the company?”

“She’s very stubborn and talks incessantly.”

“Just the way you like them,” Sarah teased. “By the way, Emily called.”

“What the hell does she want?”

“You know you’re her cash cow.”

Lison frowned; he had mountains of work ahead of him, and on top of that, Emily, the idiot, was hanging around, ready to ask for more money, as if enduring a damn marriage hadn’t been enough.

...

Libia, on her part, was in the midst of an existential crisis, having conversations with herself. She reminded herself that she had spent hundreds of dollars on therapists. Her childhood after the death of her parents and brother had been hell, and now being the whore of a Brazilian mobster brought her comfort. She was definitely messed up in the head.

“I need to get out of here,” she said out loud.

That was the right thing to do; a normal person would have tried that from the start.

She peeked out the window; there had to be neighbors or door-to-door salespeople nearby, but there was nothing. It seemed like this place was deserted.

Libia had to come up with another plan. Her aunt Elena certainly wasn’t going to look for her, so she’d have to find a way out. If not, she would remain that man’s woman for who knows how long.

She went to the kitchen. Maybe there would be a newspaper, a phone, or a person—something that could help her get out of that place.

When she arrived, she noticed a small flamingo-shaped ornament. It reminded her of her mother, who had been an animal lover, and once told her she would take her to see a nature reserve in Brazil.

Libia shrugged. If her mother were alive, she doubted she would be proud.

She turned to resume her task and then noticed Ron in the corner of the room, looking at her with sadness, as if she were a wounded puppy instead of a woman.

“Ron,” she said, “where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Fugir,” he said, “escape.”

“No, I’m not…” Libia hurried to say.

“Yes, leave,” Ron whispered.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” Sarah questioned from the kitchen entrance.

Libia trembled in fear.

Ron started explaining things in Portuguese.

“I’m going up to the room,” Libia said.

“Don’t try to outsmart me, girl; I can smell sluts from miles away,” Sarah threatened.

Then, Sarah said something to Ron in Portuguese. She turned her gaze back to Libia.

“I advised him to think with his head and not his dick, in case you wanted to know.”

Libia wrinkled her nose, disgusted by Sarah. She was about to say something back but decided against it, not wanting to get Ron into more trouble. So, she just went up to her room, now with the new question of who the hell was that pale woman.

A couple of hours later, Lison appeared, entering Libia’s room as if nothing had happened.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.

“Who’s the tramp that came today?” she asked, making exaggerated gestures with her hands.

Tiodor ignored her question and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“No one’s having sex until I get some answers,” she said firmly.

Lison pulled her close to him, ignoring her demands, and planted a kiss on her lips—rough and wild.

Libia succumbed to the pleasure; Tiodor made her lose her mind.

The man knew the power he held over Libia, and he used it to his advantage, pushing her to the limit, entering her without mercy.

Despite everything, she always asked for more, as if those spankings and hair pulls only fueled her desire.

When it was over, her chest heaved from the lack of air.

When Libia regained her composure, she dared to ask him about the pale-skinned, red-haired woman she had encountered in the kitchen.

“She’s my personal assistant,” he replied.

“Your kidnapping assistant?”

“I do more than just deprive people of their freedom, brat.”

“Hey, I thought I made it clear that I don’t like being called brat.”

“What were you doing downstairs?”

“Exploring.”

“Sarah says you were about to fuck Benicio.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Benicio?”

“The tall, dark-skinned man who’s supposed to be watching you.”

“Oh, Ron.”

“Ron?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, Ron.”

“Whatever, Ron is forbidden from getting close to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t tolerate my workers getting too familiar.” Tiodor closed his eyes.

“For a moment, I thought you were jealous,” she joked.

Lison ignored the tasteless comment.

.