Why did they even bother to wait? Why not take me out to the buses and shoot me now? Isn’t that what they did with the others? The Yellows, Oranges, and Reds? They killed them, because they were too dangerous.
We didn’t move and I wasn’t about to break the heavy silence. I wanted to go home.Taking a breath, he said, You are mine. Through circumstances I will not discuss with you, you have come into my possession, and therefore must obey me in all things.
You are not permitted to use the internet, phone, or any technology of any kind. You may not speak to the staff. You may not leave the house.He stood, toned muscles glided to the large wooden desk. Pulling a piece of paper free and a small black pouch, he settled back down. My business partners didn’t say where they got you from, what languages you speak, what skills you have. You are no one—a fresh start. We will get along if you remember that. He leaned forward again, encroaching on my space. You are no one’s but mine. Do you understand? Eyes flashed with excitement as he spoke, as if he loved the idea. Of course, he loved the idea. How many other women did he ruin?Options ran through my head. I could spit in his face. Try and knee him in the balls. Run and scream. All of those choices ended with consequences and pain.
The man dropped to his knees, pushing the chair behind in one swoop. My heart raced as he inched forward, his breath hot on my bare thighs. So soon? I hadn’t been there for ten minutes and he planned to rape me already? Shit, I couldn’t do this. I’d only ever been with Brax. Brax was my first. The one who stole my innocence and my heart.Breathe. Pretend you’re somewhere else.
I gripped the arm rests as he tugged my leg onto his thigh and rolled down my socks. His fingers scorched flesh all the way down, turning my bruises and sprained ankle into pinpoints of heat. My face scrunched and I gasped as the sock slid off my foot, leaving me bare.
He frowned, glaring at my ankle. Swollen and hot, it looked worse than it felt, but he stared as if my bone stuck out. Did they do this to you? His voice was soft, heartfelt as his gaze travelled back up my leg, spotting the bruises, the abrasions, remnants of my captivity and Leather Jacket’s hospitality.Leaning close to her, I ask, If not a banker, what do I look like?
She smiles slowly and scrapes the olives off the toothpick with her teeth.You look like a Chippendales dancer.
Fabulous answer. I don’t really need to explain to you why, do I?In a low, seductive voice I say, I do have some great moves. If banking doesn’t work out, Chippendales is Plan B.