A knock frightened me out of my thoughts. Killian stood outside the room, leaning on the doorframe, hair damp, his suit swapped out for a black low cut shirt. At this point, he might as well have been allergic to color on his skin.
"Before you go down, we need to talk." His adam's apple bulbed. "I know you're confused. But there's alot I need to tell you."
Understatement of the decade. Nonconsensual sex in an illegal brothel is comprehendable to me. Being mistaken for a Mafia family's daughter is not.
"A few years ago, my sister went missing. She was kidnapped by my family's opposition and sold to a trafficking ring. The same one that took you probably when you were also a child. You look like her." His biceps flexed as he crossed his arm. "Or at least what I assume she looks like. Plus, up until you told me your name I really thought you were her."
"That's why you bought me." Panic settled in my throat. The urge to lie scrapes at the back of my mind, but the consequence thwarts the idea. "I'm not her.."
"Maybe. I can't be sure until you're tested tomorrow. If your blood isn't compatible to mine then this really was for nothing."
My chest squeezed. For nothing. He could send me back. He would, as soon as he was certain that Stella wasn't me. "I know there has to be something I can do for you. Even if I'm not your sister, this doesn't have to be for nothing."
My knees buckled and he lunged forward, arms wrapping around my shoulders to balance me. "Please don't send me back there. Please, I'm begging you." The memories of blood spilling every night still clouded my brain. Sometimes my own, sometimes not. My lip quivered.
My knuckles fisted into his chest desperately, clinging to him like a lifeline. He hadn't seemed like the kind of person to do that, but there was also the fact that he was in the goddamn mafia.
"Ariella calm down I wont_"
"Don't sell me either. Please." My fingers released his shirt slowly, pushing off him. My body trembled, barely able to stand alone. Tears that didn't dare fall burned my eyes.
"I want to make a deal with you." His words cut through my minor panic attack. My racing heart felt like it had come to an abrupt halt.
"A deal?"
"Yes. I'll tell you more once your identity is confirmed. If you're my sister, it won't even be necessary. But first, are you completely sure that your name is infact Ariella?" His serious tone cut off my shortlived relief.
"It is. For as long as I can remember." My answer was like a ghost, whispered and forgotten.
"And how long is that?" His arms crossed again, over his chest, pulling down the fabric slightly and revealing a peak of his muscled chest.
"I don't really remember much. My whole life has always been...Well, you know." The tears pushed even more, only my sheer stubbornness keeping them at bay. "Maybe when I was 9 or 10, I don't know. But Ariella is what I've always been called."
Grunting, he lowered his hands to grip my chin, forcing my head up to face him. "You look so much like her. I almost can't believe I let myself believe..."
His eyes slammed shut for a second before he stood straight, composing himself and building back his barriers.
"What about your mum?" The words felt like an execution order against my tongue. "She thinks I'm her daughter. She'll be furious when she finds out the truth."
"You mean if there's truth to find out." Killian cut me off, his frown light.
"You don't actually still think that I'm Stella. That's_" my lips slammed shut before any more words could escape. It was well within his power to still get rid of me. And pissing him off would do no good to me once this cloud of denial finished raining over his head.
"Insane?" An eyebrow raised on his chiseled face. "Tell me something, Ella. Do you remember your life before you became a prostitute."
The malice in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. How my answer came out without a stutter was a mystery to me.
"I dont know. I'm not sure." The point of the argument was almost impossible to believe. The fact that I'd dared to argue with him was even more unbelievable. But there was no positive end or gain from lying.
"Yes or no, Ariella." His tone was calmer, more in control. But thay didn't make him any less dangerous.
My head hung, eyes fixed to the ground as the first tear finally slipped. "No. I don't."
There had been blurs. Frames of memory from my life as a child, but it felt like my mind had sealed them away from me, protecting them from the horror of what had been my reality.
Every memory of my childhood were of Motel rooms or some wealthy man's bed.
"So there's still a chance." He really was delusional.
"If there was, I'm sure something would've triggered my memory. This house, this room, your mom. You. Any memory at all."
His eyes shifted to the door, staring through it for a second. "Again, you'll be tested tomorrow. If you're not Stella, we'll come to an agreement."
My lower lip dropped, a question on my tongue. All the lessons that had been beaten into me since childhood had been thrown out the window in one afternoon. It was still a mystery what this man was fucking capable of, and questioning him was already a huge step out of place. My lips sealed back shut.
"You have a question?" His fingers slipped from beneath my chin, the warmth lingering on the skin.
"What agreement? And what about tonight? Your mum."
Shrugging, his whole posture seemed completely unbothered by that obstacle. Then again, he wasn't the one at risk here.
"Just play along. I'll keep her from asking too many questions. You can go straight to bed after dinner and we'll leave here at dawn." That said, he walked back towards the door.
"Wait. Play along? How?" His words were so nonchalantly infuriating.
"Improvise." His foot crossed the threshold, and before my mind could piece together another thought, he had walked away.
The choice to be made seemed clear. There weren't exactly alot of options to work with.
My steps out of the room felt heavy. The safety of the bedroom called to me, the hallway felt almost suffocating. And the modern paintings that hung from the white walls felt almost like judgemental eyes boring into me.
But there was only one more direction, and that was forward.
With a resigned sigh, I got to him just as he reached the stairs, matching his slow unhurried pace.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs though, Killian froze, fists clenched.
Standing at the door, an older version of him stood, wearing a black suit and carrying the same dark aura as Killian.
"Killian, son. You really found her? You brought my daughter home."