"Would you like to come down for dinner?" I asked as I watched Brooklyn quickly pull her T-shirt over her head and whip around so that she was looking right at me as I stood in the doorway. I'd had the maid bring food up for her for a couple days in a row but I was hoping against hope that she might join me in the dining room.

"Don't you ever knock? Or do I not have any rights now that I'm a prisoner here? I still don't understand why I'm here, but I guess being treated like a human being isn't part of it," she said as she glared at me.

"I'm sorry, I should've knocked. I wasn't thinking."

Actually, I was thinking. I was thinking that the only rooms I'd ever knocked on before entering in my life were my father's office and my parents' bedroom. I'd spent my life going anywhere I wanted and doing anything I wanted, especially when it came to the girls in the villa, that I simply wasn't used to treating anyone but my father and mother with respect.

And the fact that I had never actually been in a relationship, had never wanted to be in a relationship, was highlighted by my behavior right now. As I stood there in the doorway watching Brooklyn buckle up some sandals it occurred to me that there was a whole level of interaction with another human being that I had absolutely no experience with whatsoever.

Living with my brother had always been an exercise in constant competition. No matter what I did or said or looked at or thought about he wanted part of it. He not only wanted part of it but he wanted the biggest and the best. He wanted to win. Over the years, he had become increasingly greedy and pushy and extremely competitive.

For a long time, when we were kids, it was much more good-natured and my father said that his competitive nature was healthy. That two brothers would always thrive on this kind of competitive relationship. But ever since Lucas started changing his attitude toward me, his behavior seemed more like antagonistic one-upmanship than friendly competition. He was definitely built for this business and I was starting to think that I had no place in it.

"I'm not really interested in sitting down to dinner with you or your family, Adrian," Brooklyn said as she looked up at me from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "What I really want is an explanation about what the hell is going on here. Why was I drugged and kept in a cage for a week? What are you going to do with me?"

"I had the cook prepare paella. Is that still one of your favorite dishes?" I asked, hoping I could win her over just a little bit but I knew that it was silly to think that I could do it in one night with one meal. It was actually silly to think that I could win her trust back at all.

I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I couldn't put her back down in that training room, I just couldn't. I couldn't go through with what my father wanted me to do and there was absolutely no way I could let Lucas have her.

"Adrian, what the fuck is going on? Answer my question. What am I doing here? Where am I?"

"I told you, you're at my family's villa in Italy."

"So this is where your family lives, in Italy? I thought you lived in New York."

"Yes, we have an apartment on the Upper East Side, and we have a number of other houses and apartments in various cities and countries around the world. While I was going to school in the United States we lived in that apartment in Manhattan, but now we run the family business from here.

There are multiple houses on this estate that make up the villa. My brother, Lucas, has his own house nearby and my parents have a house about a quarter of a mile from here. They're rarely there, though. As my father's gotten older, he's given me more and more control over the business and he and my mother have been traveling more." I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I was starting to sound like a tour guide.

"So, this is your doing? You're the reason that I'm here?"

"No, I'm not the reason you're here. If it were up to me ... like I said I've been given more control but I don't run the business. My father makes all the major decisions. Wouldn't you like to come down to dinner? We can talk down there just as easily as ..."

"I told you, Adrian, I'm not coming down to eat with you. I don't want to have anything to do with you."

"Brooklyn, you haven't eaten in days. You look weak. You really need to eat something," I said as I watched her eyes fill with tears again. I hated that this was happening. I never in a million years would have wanted to be the reason that Brooklyn was crying. I never in a million years could have fathomed any of this happening with her.

But it was happening, and as much as I hated to admit it to her or anyone else I was the reason it was happening. This was my family and my family's business. I didn't make the orders for her to be brought here or to be trained and sold off like an animal. But I was part of it all and there was no one else to blame.

I wanted her to understand that I didn't bring her here. That it wasn't my idea. I would have gladly broken her father's legs over getting her involved in any of this. But it wasn't up to me. At all.

I had taken part in these transactions with more girls than I could count but they never meant a thing to me until Brooklyn showed up.

"What the hell do you care? It looked to me like I wasn't the only girl down there in that cellar or wherever the hell I was. Are all the girls that have been kidnapped going to join us for dinner? Or is it just me? What do you want with me, Adrian?"

"Why don't I just bring your food up here for you?" I said as I looked down at the ground. Nothing I was saying was coming out right and I was starting to feel that old familiar tension build up in me.

"Fine."

I shut the door and locked it and stood outside with my hands gripping the doorframe for a few minutes. I didn't understand what this girl was doing to me. I never took bullshit like this from anyone, but definitely not a girl that was brought here to be trained. But she wasn't just any girl.

Part of me wanted to walk right back in that room and smack her to the ground and fuck her in the ass until she knew exactly who she was dealing with and what her position was. But there was this other part of me that wanted ... that needed her approval ... and her forgiveness. A part of me that wanted and needed her.

I felt like a psychopath. I knew I was no better than my father and my brother. I wanted for her to know that I would never hurt her. I wanted for there to be some way that I could convince her that I wasn't such a bad guy, but I sure as hell didn't buy that so why would she.

"Keeping that doorway from falling down? Now that's a job that utilizes your skills properly." I heard Lucas say as he walked toward me down the hall. I stepped away from the doorframe and folded my arms as I faced him.

"What are you doing in here? This is my house, Lucas."

"Damn, what a way to greet your brother. I was just dropping off the new transaction and I thought I'd come up here to see how things were going."

"So you brought someone back with you?"

"Yeah, I did. A really hot blonde. Looks like she just turned 18. I think you'd really like her. But the funny thing is, while I was down there locking her up in the intro cell I noticed that Brooklyn was nowhere to be found," he said as he looked around and gestured with his hands, emphasizing how baffled he seemed by the mystery. "It's as if she just disappeared. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

"I've got her in here."

"Fancy. What I'd like to know is, what's so special about her that she gets her own room? Maybe I should consider giving the new transaction a whole wing in my house. Seems fair," he said in mock thoughtfulness as he rubbed his chin with his finger and thumb.

"Look, I have already told you that you don't have anything to do with her. So there's no reason for you to know where she is or why. I'm taking care of her. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell do you think Dad would say if he knew you had a transaction in your house? I'm pretty sure this wasn't what he had in mind when he said he wanted you to take care of her."

"This has nothing to do with you, Lucas," I said as I uncrossed my arms and pushed him in the chest. He took a couple of quick steps back but he was nowhere near ready to leave. I was already starting to see that the more I told him he couldn't have anything to do with Brooklyn the more he was battling me.

"The thing is, I don't really give a shit about your rules. Dad isn't even here, and if you don't need his permission to bring her into your house and let her sleep in a bed like some goddamn princess, then I don't need his permission to grind her face into the ground and fuck the living daylights out of her," he said with a smile as he moved a couple inches away from my face and poked me in the chest with his finger. "I'm getting a little tired of you telling me to leave her alone because I don't take orders from you, Adrian," he said as he pushed me in the chest like I had done to him, but I didn't fall backward. I grabbed one of his hands and twisted it around so that I was holding it behind his back against his shoulder blades and I put my other arm around his neck.

"I don't give a shit what you think, Lucas. I'm telling you. Do not touch her."

"Then I guess it won't be a problem for you if I tell Dad that she's not down in the training grounds," he said through gritted teeth, trying not to let me see how much pain he was in.

I let go of him and pushed him so that he almost and fell forward but he caught his balance on the wall, then slowly turned and looked at me while he rubbed his shoulder and gasped for air. "I'll do it, Adrian. I'll tell him."

"What is your problem, Lucas? This doesn't have anything to do with you. You've got two girls down in the training grounds right now and Dad asked me to take care of Brooklyn myself. What the hell do you want?"

"I want her down there too," he said as he turned and walked off down the hall.

I couldn't believe what a fucking jerk-off he was being, but he was right. If our Dad found out that Brooklyn was in my house instead of down in the training grounds I would be screwed.