The following week had been better. Now that I was able to go outside, my mood was better, and Darren seemed to respond better to me now that I wasn't sulking or arguing as much. I hadn't seen him as much as he was working a lot, but he still tried to make sure he, at least, had dinner with me.
True to his word, Darren had started to lighten up. He was softer and less aggressive with me, but he was still just as demanding; I didn't think that would ever change. I didn't think he knew how not to be demanding since he was so used to always getting his way, but it was nice that he was trying to make me less miserable in his presence.
Our conversations were beginning to change. I worked hard to make sure I didn't bring up a single topic that would start a fight, but I seriously had to hold my tongue at times when a certain opinion of his came out of his mouth. But it was when Darren brought up the potential future that I had a hard time not shutting down. He could tell when it upset me, and I knew it was upsetting him that it upset me, but I could see some times when he himself was actually holding back to avoid a fight. Maybe he, too, was trying to keep the peace no matter how temporary it was.
Darren still refused to discuss any of his personal business with me, but I wanted to know more about his dealings so I would know who to watch out for when my plan to escape came to life. I tried to pay attention to his phone calls and conversations with guards and associates. Words like Triguard, Audeāmus, countermeasures and strikes, shipments, and auction. Anytime I heard anything remotely close to mentioning the warehouse, my stomach would backflip. And it only motivated me to start paying attention to names—Ron, Matt, Carlos, Moross, Dan, Dominic, and Ray. My hit list was getting bigger by the day.
The days Darren worked from home were strange. Everyone seemed anxious and on their toes while people I'd never seen before came and went from his office. Darren's guards would often usher me away from his office, telling me Darren was busy and not to disturb him. But I wasn't interested in him; I was interested in the people he dealt with on a regular basis.
Every now and then, I would continue to see the gardener here and there, and one time, I just flat out waved to him with a fake-ass happy smile on my face, hoping he would see that I was fine. He gave me a small short wave back and returned to his work.
One morning, Darren and I talked about our general interests and found common ground. He still liked to pry me on things about my childhood, and it usually brought a smile to his face, so I obliged.
"You're going to think this is hilarious." I chuckled. "But I used to love flying kites when I was a kid."
"Really?" Darren asked enthusiastically, obviously thinking it was hilarious.
"Oh yeah, and I was really good at it, too. I could always catch the perfect breeze and make it fly for hours. I could even do tricks and make it spin around like a bird. I kind of miss it, actually. It was very relaxing."
Darren just gave me a knowing smile as if he was up to something. He usually always was.
The following morning, Darren had told me he would be late coming home and that I would be having dinner alone. Shocker there, but he suddenly said that he had a surprise for me. He stood up from the chair and went to pull the other chair out that sat across the table from me. He then pulled up a long wrapped present and set it down in front of me. It was wrapped in white wrapping paper with a bright pink bow. I gave Darren a look, but he just urged me to open it. After ripping off the paper and bow, I pulled the top off the rectangular box and pushed back the white tissue paper to find what looked like some dark purple fabric, thin plastic poles, and string. I looked at it curiously before I pulled the fabric out and realized it was the makings of a kite!
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Survival ( Book 2: Stronger Series )
RomanceBook 2 of Stolen HER I'm usually brutally honest. I don't like to sugar coat shit or beat around the bush. But this time, I couldn't want to run further from my own destructive truth. I'd been sold. Sold. Like some kind of dog to a man born of cruel...