Page 17 of Forbidden Fate

Robin Bellamy is even more beautiful when she’s conscious.

Her personality is like wildfire. I wasn’t expecting that. Most little rich girls are so entitled that they simply beg to get back to their money and their designer clothes.

Robin isn’t the first woman I’ve abducted, but she’s the first one who’s thrown my own words back in my face. She’s not begging for anything. She’s challenging.

I should be annoyed by her.

Instead?

She’s drawing me in.

“Who are you?” she demands. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not sure you’re in a position to be asking questions,” I tell her. “Why were you in that house in Texas?”

“None of your business,” she scoffs.

“Actually, it is my business,” I say, keeping my voice cool. “And if you want to return home in one piece, you’d better be straight with me.”

She laughs humorlessly. “Straight with you? You seriously just said that?”

I grit my jaw. “Yeah, I seriously just said that. Honesty is your only way through this.”

“Honesty is the only way to live your life.”

That’s what Mamá says to me all the time.

Honesty. Like telling the truth. Like not lying.

But I’m kind of lying right now.

I’m supposed to be in my room, playing my CDs. That’s what I do when Mamá is working. I’m supposed to play them loud.

I don’t mind. I like music. I like my CDs. I just wish Mamá would join me sometimes. I don’t get to see her much, even though she’s always here.

I’m not in my room, though. Instead, I’m wandering around the big house where my mom works.

The floor is too shiny, like it’s always wet, even though it isn’t. My shoes make soft squeaky sounds when I walk, and I try to step quieter. The air smells funny, kind of like flowers but also something else that I don’t know.

Red is everywhere. Red chairs, red curtains, even red lights. The lights make everything look wrong. People’s skin looks darker and shinier, like they’re sweating.

A woman laughs somewhere behind me. It’s loud but then it stops fast. I turn my head, but I can’t see her face. Just a flash of something sparkly on her arm. It might be Señorita Carlita. I like her. She’s pretty. But she’d stop to say hi if she saw me. I think, anyway.

I keep my hands in my pockets so I don’t touch anything. Everything looks soft but also like it might be sticky. Mamá always says the best move is to keep my hands to myself when I’m outside of my room. The couches are big and there are pillows everywhere.

Music plays, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. It sounds like it’s inside the walls.

I wish I could go to school like other kids. There aren’t very many kids here, and most of them are too young to play with me anyway.

Mamá says I don’t need school because the grown-up ladies here teach me everything I need to know. Señora Valentina teaches me math. Yesterday I learned how to minus. Like two minus one is one. It’s the opposite of one plus one equals two.

Then there’s reading. Mamá taught me that.

The place where all the ladies work is called a brothel. That probably means they spend a lot of the time in the kitchen cooking broth.

Mamá says I’m lucky to not have to go to school. One of the men she works for, Señor Vega, has a son. She said maybe he would like to play with me.

“Mamá, nobody will want their kids to play with me. I don’t even have a dad.”