Sold To The Boss: A Narcos Romance

Chapter 6

Isabella woke up disoriented. She felt like her arms and her legs were on fire. They were tingling with the painful twinge of addiction. She'd never been a big drinker in her twenty-two years, let alone a drug user. She hated her original captor who had stuck that damn needle in her arm. Even though the bedroom was cool, she felt beads of sweat popping out on her forehead and between her breasts. She shivered, and slid her feet off the bed. What was she supposed to do now? Her memory flashed back to Rafael. The tall, alarmingly handsome man who had bought her and had promised to protect her, if she did what he asked. What on Earth would a man like that need a recent American college graduate to do? Isabella had the alarming sensation that perhaps he thought she was someone else. And not the strong-headed but otherwise sheltered first-generation college graduate who had spent most of her formative years growing up quietly in Arizona. Isabella pushed the thoughts of her life before way down. They always threatened tears and chest heaves and right now she couldn't risk a breakdown. She had to keep her emotions in check in order to stay strong and alert. She'd find a way out. She didn't know how but she would.

Isabella walked barefoot into the connected bathroom and was surprised to find several toiletries that weren't there yesterday. A hairbrush, toothpaste, face wash and even some luxury brand looking hair and body products were lined up neatly on the counter. She also noticed a small closet in the bathroom where a few tops and dresses were hanging. She felt the soft fabric like it was threaded gold. Something clean that would actually fit her properly. She'd never take something as simple as clean clothes for granted ever again. How was it that only a week ago she was doing laundry in her aunt's small cottage house while listening to a podcast on her phone? Had it been longer than a week? Before being sold, Isabella had tried to count the hours, the days, but somewhere along the way she'd lost track. But it couldn't have been more than ten days max. Isabella splashed cool water on her face and washed her slightly sweaty face, the toothpaste making her feel an inch more human again even as the surges of withdrawal racked her body. She changed into a white top and denim shorts, surprised by how perfectly they fit. When she went back out into the bedroom she felt a new wave of nerves, not knowing if she could or should venture outside of the bedroom. As she scanned the space, she spotted a small piece of paper on the desk where Rafael had taken off his cufflinks when he'd handed her his shirt. She remembered the reservation, almost respect in his eyes, when he refused to look at her chest even though she was all but spilling out of the dress. She'd been shocked he hadn't forced himself on her. Shocked but grateful and still very doubtful that he wouldn't try at some point. The slip of paper had a small note on it, written in manly but neat handwriting:

Isabella, breakfast will be on the patio when you are awake and dressed. I'll need your help today. - Rafael

Isabella inhaled a deep breath. What would helping Rafael entail? And what time was it anyway? Had she slept in until noon? Without a phone or even an analog clock in the room she had no way of knowing. Isabella placed her hand on the doorknob, steadying herself before opening it.

The hallway outside of the bedroom was beautiful, lined with a series of arched windows that let the sun wash light over the white plaster walls. She walked tentatively, not knowing exactly where she was headed or who she might run into. But when she turned the corner, she saw one large window that overlooked a beautiful desert vista and a deck with a handful of seated people. She noticed Rafael first. He was wearing another white dress shirt, loose at the collar and rolled up to the elbows, highlighting the tanness of his skin. She just stared for a moment, her heart pounding wildly. Then Rafael whipped his head unexpectedly toward her, his calm demeanor shifting somehow. He scanned her, pinned her in place. His face formed into a frown and Isabella wondered what she'd done wrong, a flush coming to her cheeks. But then the scratching in her forearms was so intense, she didn't care about anything else as she clawed unseeing at her own skin. Rafael crooked his finger at her and Isabella started to move, slowly at first, like she was a deer walking into a lion's den. She stepped out onto the glamorous patio, plates of fresh fruit and breakfast pastries still half-full as a group of men sat outside, enjoying the morning sun.