DEBT OF DESIRE

THE ESCAPE PLAN

We walked to a beautiful spot in the garden. Roses bloomed everywhere, the grass trimmed perfectly, and the gazebo was covered with branches of flowers that stretched across the beams. It looked magical—too magical for a place where men spilled blood without hesitation.

I sat down carefully, pretending to admire the scenery while my eyes searched for the cameras, marking their positions and the blind spots. I smiled faintly as if nothing was out of place.

“I like it better when you look at me, not the view,” Rafael said suddenly, startling me.

I forced a small laugh. “Oh—sorry. It’s just… this place is beautiful. Like a fairytale. The fresh air, the smell of roses… I could get used to this.” Of course, if it were up to me, I’d be long gone.

“Mmh,” he grunted. “This used to be my mother’s garden. She loved roses. You’ll meet her soon.” His voice was cold, empty of warmth.

Before I could reply, a maid arrived with a tray of food. I smiled at him. “Wow, this looks delicious. Thank you.”

The maid blushed. “Oh, ma’am, you’re too kind.”

“Are we going to eat, or are you going to keep talking to him? And you—what are you still doing here? Do I pay you to receive compliments or to serve?” Rafael snapped, his tone sharp as a whip.

The maid lowered his head and hurried away, embarrassed. I stared at Rafael, biting back the urge to tell him he was rude. His dark eyes met mine.

“Don’t smile like that unless it’s for me,” he said flatly.

I dropped my gaze to my plate and began to eat. But I could feel it—his eyes never left me. He watched me eat, swallow, even breathe.

When he finally looked down at his food, I stole my chance. My eyes flickered to the guards: how they stood, how often they shifted, which ones looked distracted.

“Do you always eat here?” I asked, testing him, probing for harmless details.

He met my gaze sharply. “No. I don’t usually come here. I prefer to look at it from my balcony. Why? Do you want to eat here more often?” His tone hinted at suspicion.

I shook my head quickly. “No. I was just asking. It’s… beautiful.”

I reached for the jug of juice, but he snatched it first, pouring it into my glass without asking—his eyes fixed on me, waiting to see if I’d protest.

“Thanks. I could’ve done it myself,” I murmured. Then, lowering my voice, I added, “The guards… they work non-stop, don’t they? Do they ever take breaks?”

“Yes. But never more than ten minutes,” he replied.

I nodded, hiding the flicker of excitement in my chest. Ten minutes. That was the window. If I ran, I’d only have ten minutes.

I excused myself, walking a little farther into the garden—testing my limits. No guards followed. Maybe it was because Rafael was here. Maybe because he thought I wouldn’t dare. Either way, it was a start.

When I returned to the table, Rafael reached across and brushed a crumb from my lips with his thumb. His face was unreadable—gentle and cold all at once.

We finished eating in silence. He stood abruptly, leading me back inside. At my door, he opened it for me. But before I could step in, his hand closed around mine.

“Remember,” he said softly, dangerously, “you belong here. With me. No one else.”

I nodded, slipping free, and went straight to my bed.

Once the door shut, I pulled out my small notebook—the one I always carried. I wrote everything I had observed today: cameras, guards, blind spots, their ten-minute breaks.

Rafael thought he could cage me. He thought he could control me. But when he comes back from wherever he is going, he would find his perfect house upside down.