Chapter 32 – Pretty

Margot’s POV

The silence between us was uncomfortable, but not unusual at this point. Coban didn’t say much as we left the gym, just threw his towel around his neck, grunted something about needing a shower, and jerked his chin toward the corridor for me to follow him out.

I did, after a quick hug with Cara and a ‘I’ll see you soon,’ feeling better now about leaving her with Luca since he actually seemed alright from the brief time I had spent with him.

Things could’ve gone much worse for us, I’ll admit that, but Coban was still so closed off and reserved that… it was hard to tell how far he could go if I pushed the wrong button. Trailing out behind him like some obedient stray, I kept my eyes low and tried not to let the weight of everything I hadn’t said crush me.

I was still reeling from what he’d spat out in front of Luca and Cara. That jab about me liking the attention from other prisoners? That I wanted the trouble? It stuck to me like grease under my fingernails. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t scrub the sting away.

Did he really believe that? Is that why he seemed to resent me so much?

The walk back to our cell – or more like a room, as they called it – was quiet, unlike earlier when the hallways had all been swarmed. Coban didn’t look back once either, just expecting me to knowingly keep up with him now, as I made sure to do.

Once inside, he tossed his towel into a corner where I guessed he had started creating his own ‘dirty laundry’ pile, as I suddenly wondered what the situation with laundry was around here? I stood awkwardly near the small desk, watching him from the corner of my eye. He didn’t look angry. But he didn’t look anything. His face was unreadable, like someone had switched off the expression switch altogether.

I couldn’t keep this inside anymore… I took a breath. “Can I say something to you?”

Coban paused mid-search, his hand half-buried in his drawer as he heard my voice… His jaw clenched for a second. Then he nodded once without turning around to fully face me.

“Please don’t get mad,” I said carefully, my voice softer than I meant it to be. “I just… I need you to listen, okay?”

This time, he turned. Not all the way, just enough to face me, his dark eyes unreadable. He leaned against the chest of drawers, arms folded now, his chest rising and falling steadily. Watching me. Waiting.

I had no choice but to go on now, I had his full undivided attention…

“I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and it’s bothering me. I really don’t want to upset you, or piss you off every two seconds. That’s not what I’m trying to do,” I began, wringing my hands together. “I’m trying really hard to figure this place out, and figure you out, and what you expect from me. You say I’m yours while I’m in here, so I’m trying to be… bearable for you, at least.”

His stare didn’t soften, not even a flicker, giving nothing away on what he thought so far.

“I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble on the first day. I didn’t come here to stand out or to draw attention to myself – please believe that. The pink uniform was stupid. I get that now. It was dumb and girly and totally oblivious to where I actually am. This place is crawling with dangerous men, and I walked in here like I was going to a summer camp.” I forced out a laugh, dry and humorless. “So what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry, okay? For the color, for getting lost, for attracting that creep without meaning to, and for bumping into that guy – causing a scene. I’ll stay close to you from now on. I won’t wander off alone or speak to anyone unless you say it’s okay. I’ll keep my head down and I’ll try my damn hardest not to annoy the shit out of you,” I concluded, puffing out a breath by the end.

The silence that followed made the walls feel like they were closing in on me, making me question every word that I had forced to escape. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even move.

I felt raw, like I’d just turned myself inside out for him and he didn’t even blink. Then, finally, he exhaled slowly and said just one word.

“Pretty.”

My brows furrowed, completely confused by him. “I’m sorry, what?” I whispered, not knowing if he was trying to be funny or not…

He pushed off from the drawers and walked a few slow steps toward me, eyes seemingly darker than usual, if at all possible.

“Bella,” he said, shrugging like the word was no big deal. “It means ‘pretty’ in Italian.”

I blinked. Was he serious right now? Or was he just pranking me? Mocking me? It could mean the damn opposite for all I know…

“I called you that because you’re pretty. That’s why you’re attracting so much fucking trouble in here. Not the color. Not the way you talk or walk or look around for your little friend, getting yourself lost. It’s your face, your hair, your eyes.” He tilted his head, examining me like I was some equation he had miraculously solved hours ago. “You’re pretty, at least when you can’t see that ugly bruise on your cheek,” he stated with a dry laugh, and there he was, back again with a short insult.

His voice was level, but his words detonated something inside my chest. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

But he thought I was pretty this whole time? That’s why he nicknamed me Bella?

The blood drained from my face only to rush back twice as fast. My fingers trembled at my sides, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear, confusion, or something dangerously close to flattery.

“I do still think your real name’s shit though,” he added, bluntly. “But you suit Bella. It fits you better.”

That did it. My mouth dropped open, and I stared at him in utter disbelief.

“When I first saw you, you were like a damn walking lollipop! I figured more people would be drawn to you if you waltzed around here in that uniform… the grey helps to keep you more under wraps… more in line… keeps the other bastards in line.” He nods at himself, as I think on his reasoning.

Maybe he’s right?

“You’re mine for now, Bella, and what I say goes around here. Sure, you’ve definitely irritated me more times than I can count, but you’re not the worst female to be paired with. I’m glad it was you,” he finished, breaking our connection in an instant after.

He didn’t wait for a response, just tossed his fresh towel over his shoulder and made his way toward the bathroom in the corner of our unit, the door slamming shut behind him.

Leaving me standing in the middle of the room like a confused, trembling, short-circuited wreck.

I placed a hand over my chest, feeling my heart hammering wildly beneath my ribs. My knees felt weak, the kind of weak that was not just fear this time… but it was something else.

What the hell just happened?

And more importantly…

What the hell was happening to me?!

Too many foreign words to decipher… it almost felt like a dream.