Chapter 8

He came to pick me up after I finished my shower. He stopped at the door and just watched me, waiting for something, like he expected me to read his mind. My eyes stayed down, not because he’d ordered it, but because I just didn’t feel like looking at him.

I moved to take off the robe. He always wanted me naked… but I was interrupted.

“Luana, today I’m letting you go early. I think the first day was too intense. You really impressed me. The driver will take you home.”

That’s it.

There wasn’t any emotion in his voice, no satisfaction, no coldness, just a straightforward statement, like he was wrapping up a business deal.

I stood there, frozen, taking in his words. “Is that it? Over already?”

My fingers gripped the fabric of the robe around my body. Something inside me expected to feel relief. I expected the idea of leaving that house, of getting back to my world, to bring a breath of freedom. But it didn’t.

He didn’t wait for any response. He just turned and left, leaving me alone with the silence that hung behind, and it was deafening.

I let the air out slowly through my lips, trying to sort out my thoughts. I should move, get dressed, go downstairs, get in the car, and leave. But my feet were glued to the floor, like something invisible was holding me there. Forcing myself to act, I walked to the mirror and got my clothes to put on. My eyes were red, my expression tired, marked by something I didn’t understand.

Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe it was shame.

Maybe it was… something else.

I ran my fingers over my face, trying to wipe away the shadow of that moment, but it stayed there, stuck to me, like a scent that no shower could wash off.

And then, finally, I left.

The house was quiet, dark, and cold, like no one had ever lived there. There was no sign of him, no presence, no trace that that night had happened.

Outside, the driver was already waiting for me.

The early morning air hit my exposed skin, and a shiver ran up my spine. I should have felt free. I tried to force a smile to cheer myself up at breathing fresh air and got into the car.

“Ms. Luana! Good evening, I’ll take you home. Would you like to stop anywhere before?”

The driver’s voice pulled me out of my own thoughts. He was the same man who’d picked me up before, but that first time, I was so consumed by anxiety that I hadn’t even noticed his face properly. Now, under the soft light of the car, I could see him better.

Roberto.

He was an older gentleman, firm features, neatly trimmed gray hair, and impeccable posture. Unlike any rideshare driver I’d ever met, he didn’t seem like just someone providing a service. He had something more… a certain elegance.

“What’s your name, sir? Sorry, I forgot… Actually, I don’t think I ever knew.”

He smiled in the rearview mirror, a polite smile, but there was something in his eyes that made me uncomfortable. A glint of someone who knows more than they should, or maybe who’s seen too much.

“Roberto, ma’am.”

His voice was firm, professional, but with a subtly protective tone.

“I hope to serve you for a long time.”

Serve.

The word hit me strangely.

Does he want me to serve him too?

“Total… obedience?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. They were a reflex of what I’d been through that night, the submission demanded without compromise. I didn’t even mean to say it; I’d never demand something like that from a worker. But somehow, that phrase was stuck in my mouth, like it had been imprinted in my mind irreversibly.

The silence lasted only a second.

Roberto let out a low, almost conspiratorial laugh.

“Total obedience, ma’am. As it should be in this house.”

His laugh wasn’t mocking, but from someone who already knew the answer before hearing it.

A chill ran up my spine.

Something was very wrong here.

I wanted to ask more, to understand. But at the same time, I felt I shouldn’t. As if, by pressing the issue, I’d be opening a door to something I might not be able to handle.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the city lights pass by too fast.

Roberto’s words echoed in my mind.

“As it should be in this house.”

“Mr. Roberto, does your boss bring a lot of women to this house?”

The silence stretched a second longer than necessary. I saw in the rearview mirror as he took a deep breath before answering, choosing his words carefully.

“My boss is an influential businessman and receives many people, ma’am.”

The answer was vague. Generic. Formal.

For a moment, I thought he was just dodging the question, maintaining the posture of a loyal and discreet employee. But then, he continued:

“But if you’re asking about girlfriends… I believe a reasonable number for a man of his age and status. I have little access to his private life to say how many women he relates to.”

There was something in the way he said that made me look at him more closely. The answer wasn’t as evasive as I’d expected. On the contrary, it seemed sincere and consistent, without beating around the bush or obvious attempts to hide the truth. And yet, something didn’t feel right.

There was a weight to his words. A subtext I still couldn’t decipher.

“How long have you worked for him?”

I asked, testing the limits of that conversation.

This time, Roberto smiled in a way that unsettled me.

“Long enough to understand how things work, ma’am.”

“How things work.”

Those words stuck in my mind like an echo.

“What exactly happens in that house?”

“I thought you were going to spend the night at the house, ma’am. I’d already turned in.”

Roberto’s voice sounded almost casual, but there was something there. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t thought about the time to return. I hadn’t planned anything. I just wanted to get out of there.

My instinct was to reply with sarcasm: “When the host makes me lie in my own piss, I usually feel like leaving.”

But the phrase stuck in my throat, and in the end, I chose the simplest way out.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all I said.

Roberto just smiled faintly, a smile too short to be friendly, long enough to make me uncomfortable.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, ma’am.”

He turned back to the road, hands steady on the wheel.

A few more minutes passed in silence, just the soft hum of the engine filling the space between us.

When the car finally stopped in front of my apartment, I felt my body relax a little. The relief of being back in my own world should have been greater, but everything felt… off.

I opened the car door and gave Roberto a discreet wave goodbye, ready to disappear up the stairs and lock myself in my apartment. But I’d barely taken two steps when I heard him call:

“Ma’am!”

His voice made me stop, and before I could turn to ask what it was, he’d already gotten out of the car.

He moved with unusual agility for his age, without any hesitation. He circled the car precisely and opened the trunk, which popped open with a quiet click.

I stood there, watching as he took something out.

First, the basket. Large, delicate, filled with products arranged with almost meticulous care. Soaps, moisturizers, lotions — all unscented.

Then, a box.

Simple, rectangular, wrapped in dark paper without any identification.

He approached and handed me the items as if it were part of a routine protocol, no need for further explanation.

“You were going to forget your things, ma’am.”

I looked at the objects in his hands, confused.

“He gave me the basket, but this box isn’t mine, Mr. Roberto.”

He kept his serene expression, showing no surprise at my hesitation.

“The boss said there’s a note.”

I took the basket and the box, balancing them against my chest, feeling the weight of what that meant without even knowing what was inside.

Without saying anything else, I turned and went into my apartment.