Free Kindred Intentions by Rita Carla Francesca Monticelli Page B

feet.
The shoes certainly needed a wash, but it seemed a waste to throw them away.
“Over there, instead …” He pointed out another door on the opposite side of a
bed that would comfortably accommodate four people. And, as she looked at Mike,
Amelia imagined it could have happened. Of course three more women, besides
him. That thought annoyed her a bit. “Over there is the bathroom. You can use
all the towels you want, okay?”
    She was gawping at him, lingering on orgies in
the middle of the woods, until it occurred to her that there was an excessive
silence and she nodded unnecessarily vigorously.
    “All right.” Mike turned again to the
wardrobe. “I’m taking something to wear and I’ll go wash in the other bathroom,
so I leave the coast clear for you.” Doubtful, Amelia looked at him and he,
intercepting her eyes, added a further explanation. “Stay here, and wash, dress
yourself—in short, take a moment to calm yourself.”
    “Oh, yes, okay!”
    “Remember not to open the shutters, we don’t
want the light to be seen from outside.”
    Right, no light. She hoped his punctiliousness
on the subject was just an excess of caution. Who would ever come to kill them
in this enchanted castle?
    “Understood?” Mike was still waiting for an
answer.
    “Yes, okay, shutter closed, no light.”
    He took out some clothes and walked away,
closing the door behind him.
    Amelia was feeling dazed. The contrast between
the hell she had endured during the whole day and this sudden corner of
paradise destabilised her. She had a constant worry that she would wake up
again tied and hooded in the boot of a car, or who knew where. She shooed that
thought away and ventured further into the room. She would’ve liked to sit down
for a moment and reflect, but she didn’t want to soil the snow white
continental quilt covering the bed. She was exhausted and would rather have had
a good sleep, but there were other primary needs to be satisfied before she
could rest. Getting rid of that filth, for starters. But she didn’t need the
bathroom just for washing herself.
    She sneezed. Catching a cold wasn’t exactly
what she needed now. Then she sensed her stomach complaining. Here was another
primary need.
    What would happen next? Mike had said that
someone would come to get them. She was torn between the desire to go back home
and the desire to enjoy that hunting lodge . And perhaps not only the
lodge.
    But above all, what would be waiting for her
once she’d returned to the city, once she’d given her report to her chief? If
she was still a target of the killers, they would not desist. They certainly
knew where she lived. She would need protection.
    The more she meditated on it, the place she
was in, away from anything and anybody, seemed to her more desirable than
anywhere else.
    Anyway, she would think about it later. Now:
shower and food.
    She reached the bathroom door. She opened it
and turned on the light. And she emitted a triumphant titter.
    “I would have bet on that,” she commented to
herself, seeing the Jacuzzi.
     
     
    She lingered amongst bubbles for the better
part of a half-hour, letting water jets massage her, but at a certain point the
hole in her stomach reminded her that it didn’t want to wait any longer to be
filled. As she rose from the hot water she felt a slight dizziness. A hot,
humid environment and a low blood sugar level were really the worst of matches.
    She put on a white towelling robe that was
hanging in the bathroom. It was large, but not overly so. It belonged to Mike.
She pictured him wearing it, his body under the terry. And she felt
light-headed again. Sexual fantasies required an energy which she couldn’t
really count on right now.
    The cooler temperature of the bedroom woke her
up again. She started searching the wardrobe. She found a tracksuit with a
sweater opening at the front with a zipper, and a T-shirt that wasn’t
excessively big.
    She gazed at the little pile of clothes she
had