Chapter 7

JANICE

I sat on the floor, staring at the door Diego had locked behind him. My heart was racing, but I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. Broken? No. Angry? Yes.  

“I’m not consummating this marriage,” I said out loud, my voice firm. “Not tonight. Not ever.”  

I got up, my legs shaky but steady enough. My gown was torn, thanks to Diego, and it hung off me awkwardly. I walked to the door and tried the handle.  

“Of course,” I muttered when it didn’t budge. “He locked me in.”  

With a sigh, I headed to the bathroom. It was stunning—marble countertops, a freestanding tub, a massive glass shower, and soft towels that looked like they belonged in a five-star hotel. Everything was perfect. Except me.  

I stepped into the shower and scrubbed myself, trying to wash away the memory of Diego touching me. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the feeling stayed.  

After wrapping myself in a towel, I stepped back into the bedroom—and froze. My luggage was there.  

“Who brought this in?” I whispered.  

Before I could think too much about it, the door opened, and Diego walked in, his presence filling the room.  

He looked at me, his gaze lingering, and then smiled.  

“Enjoying the room?” he asked casually, stepping closer.  

I backed up instinctively. “Stay where you are,” I said sharply.  

He chuckled. “You don’t give orders here, mi amor.”  

“I’m not your mi amor,” I shot back, tightening my grip on the towel.  

Diego tilted his head, amused. “Feisty. I like that.”  

I scowled. “I’m not here for your entertainment.”  

He took another step closer. I refused to back away this time, planting my feet firmly.  

“You’re bold for someone who’s completely at my mercy,” he said, his voice soft but firm.  

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied, hoping he couldn’t hear my heart pounding.  

“Liar,” he said, smirking. His hand shot out, gripping my chin gently but firmly. “You’re shaking.”  

I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”  

Diego laughed, the sound low and unsettling. “What are you going to do about it? Scream? Fight me? Run? The door’s locked, cariño.”  

I glared at him. “You think locking me in here will make me give in? Keep dreaming.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, but then the smirk returned. “You’re going to be a fun challenge.”  

“Let me make this clear,” I said, my voice steady. “You’re not touching me tonight. End of discussion.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think I’ll wait?”  

“Because I said so,” I snapped.  

For a moment, he stared at me, as if deciding whether to argue. Then, to my surprise, he stepped back.  

“I like feisty women,” he said, his voice calm but full of meaning. “It’s going to be so satisfying to see you submit.”  

He turned and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Get some sleep. You’ll need your strength.”  

And then he was gone.  

I stood there, trembling—not from fear, but from anger. “He has no idea who he’s dealing with,” I muttered.  

I grabbed my pajamas from my suitcase, a simple black and white set, and headed into the closet. It was massive, filled with expensive clothes and shoes. I quickly changed, refusing to spend another second thinking about him.  

When I came back out, the room was empty. Good.  

I climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. As I drifted off, one thought repeated in my mind.  

“I’ll never let him win.”  

************

I woke with a start, the soft knock on the door pulling me from the restless slumber I had barely managed to fall into. My mind was still a haze, the haunting memories of Diego’s brutality from the night before washing over me. His hands. His cold words. I still felt his presence in the room, his demands, his control.

A maid’s voice broke through my thoughts accompanied by a knock. “Madam, Mr. Rodrigues requests your presence downstairs.”

I froze. The words felt like a slap, a jolt of terror coursing through my veins. Diego. I had thought he had gone off to work. The thought of facing him again, after what had happened last night, made my stomach turn.

I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to still the rising panic within me. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t face him again, not after everything. My body felt heavy, like it was made of stone. It didn’t feel like mine anymore.

“Come in.” I told her and she did. “Your husband request your presence downstairs ma’am.” She repeated.

“I… I can’t go,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. I didn’t want to face him, to be reminded of how close he had come to violating me. But the maid’s eyes widened in response, and she moved toward me, her voice gentle but urgent. “Please, Madam. Mr. Rodrigues… it would be worse if you refuse him. You don’t want to make him angry.”

I recoiled, the thought of angering him making me break out into a cold sweat. I didn’t know what he was capable of, what kind of punishment he might devise for me if I disobeyed.

“Please,” the maid repeated, her tone now pleading. “You must go. It’s for your own good. It’s better to obey than disobey him.”

I swallowed hard, nodding reluctantly. There was no other choice. I had to face him. I couldn’t let him turn his anger on me any further.

“Very well. You may go. I’ll come downstairs.” I gave in and she walked away after giving me a curt nod.

With shaking hands, I quickly freshened up, not caring how I looked, but desperate to just get this over with. My heart pounded in my chest, and every step felt heavier than the last as I descended the stairs. I could hear voices below—staff members murmuring quietly to each other—and my anxiety only deepened.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes immediately found him.

Diego stood at the center of the room, his dark eyes catching mine as I walked down the stairs. A cold, satisfied smile curled at the corner of his lips when he saw me. It made my stomach churn.

“Come down quickly, Janice,” he ordered, his voice smooth but with an edge to it. I didn’t answer him, just quickened my pace, though every fiber of my being screamed at me to run the other way.

I was barely down the stairs when the weight of the room shifted. The dozen or so house staff, all lined up in front of Diego, stood quietly, their eyes flickering between him and me. I felt them watching, judging. My palms grew clammy.

Diego’s smile widened as he turned to address the staff, his voice booming, “Listen up, everyone. Janice is now one of you. She’ll be joining the staff here, and I’m giving all of you a week off.” He didn’t even glance at me as he continued, making my heart sink further. “So, from now on, Janice will take over your duties.”

A murmur rippled through the staff. Shock. Confusion. Disbelief. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Shut up!” Diego barked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. The staff fell silent immediately, their eyes trained on the floor, their discomfort palpable. My chest tightened.

Diego didn’t stop there, though. He turned, one hand sweeping toward one of the maids standing near a water jug. “Pour water on the floor,” he instructed. The maid hesitated for only a moment before she did as told, splashing water on the polished marble.

I froze. My eyes locked with Diego’s, and for a moment, I thought my legs might give way beneath me. But he wasn’t done.

“Janice,” he said, his tone low, “take the mop from her and clean it up.”

I blinked, my mouth opening in disbelief. “What?” I whispered.

Diego’s cold gaze never wavered. “You heard me. Clean it up.” His voice was a command, final and unwavering.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I felt the heat of anger rising in my chest, but it quickly gave way to fear. How could he do this? How could he humiliate me like this in front of everyone? I wasn’t some servant. I wasn’t his maid!

But when I made no move to obey, Diego’s gaze hardened, and he took a step toward me. “I don’t like being disobeyed, Janice,” he said, his voice dangerous. “Take the mop. Now.”

My breath hitched in my throat. I was shaking, my whole body trembling, but somehow, I forced myself to move. I didn’t want to anger him any more than I already had. I walked over to the maid, my face burning with humiliation, and took the mop from her hands.

The staff watched in silence as I knelt down, trying to avoid their gazes as I scrubbed the floor. I could feel the eyes of the entire room on me, and it felt like they were all laughing at me, judging me. The mop slipped from my grasp as I wiped away tears, but I quickly grabbed it again, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

When I finished, Diego clapped his hands in mock approval. “Well done, Janice,” he said, a cruel mockery of praise in his voice. “A wonderful maid you make.”

His words stung, each one a lash against my already fragile sense of self-worth. He had broken me, piece by piece, and I couldn’t escape it. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to defy him—but I knew better than that. He would only make it worse.

“Everyone leave, vacate the staff quarters and be back by Nextweek Monday, six am sharp!” He commanded suddenly, and the staff hurried to vacate the room, clearly eager to avoid any further confrontation.

I felt the blood drain from my face, my heart hammering in my chest. Diego was playing a game, and I was his pawn. He didn’t care about me—only about his power, his control.

When the room was empty, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, my voice shaky with a mix of fury and terror.

He stepped toward me slowly, his eyes dark with amusement. “Since you can’t perform your wifely duties,” he said coldly, “you won’t be lounging around, doing nothing. You’re going to work, Janice. Either you give in to me, or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

My fists clenched at my sides, my teeth grinding together. “I will never give in to you,” I spat, my voice trembling with defiance. “You can’t own me, Diego. My body isn’t a tool for you to use. I’d rather suffer than let you ruin me.”

Diego’s expression darkened, and he took a step closer, his breath warm against my skin. “You will give in,” he growled, pulling me closer. “And I can’t wait to break you.”

I stood my ground, my voice unwavering despite the fear gnawing at my insides. “You’ll never break me,” I said fiercely, my chest rising and falling with the force of my words. “You’ll never have me. Punish me all you want but I rather die than have sex with you.”

Diego’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “We’ll see about that. Now, get to work. You’ve got a lot of cleaning to do.”

I felt like I was drowning, but I didn’t back down. Not yet.