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Her back isn’t as flushed as the rest of her skin, but I can see the goosebumps on her arms. Is that because she’s cold or because of me?
I unlock the small padlock and then unbuckle the collar, holding both tightly in my hands.
She lets her hair fall from her grip, but she doesn’t turn around. “Thank you.” Her voice is tight.
I don’t say anything back.
She walks over to the cabinet where I tossed her phone earlier and picks it up. She has at least one message, but she doesn’t read it. Instead, she walks towards the door to the basement.
Still clutching the collar, I follow.
As she reaches for the door handle, she realizes I’m behind her, and she turns, frowning. “Are you following me?”
“Yes?”
“Why?” she demands.
“The removal of the collar is only temporary.”
Her gaze drops the band in my hand before it returns to my face. “If I was going to leave, I wouldn’t waste time looking for my case. I’m only going to take a shower.”
“Mmmm.” I nod.
“I will come find you so that you can put it back on after.”
“Or I can put it on now.”
She blinks before suddenly recoiling like I’ve gone to strike her. “Either I shower with it on, or you watch me as I shower?”
I nod.
The fuck I’m going to watch. I’d rather volunteer in some soup kitchen than watch her shower.
But it’s not going to happen anyway. She’ll do whatever it takes to stop that from happening.
I just want to see what she’ll offer in exchange.
Her eyes are moving slightly as she stares at me like she’s willing a death ray to come spilling out of them.
And then she shrugs. “Fine.”
She spins on her six-thousand-dollar heel, thankfully before she sees my mouth drop open, and heads into the basement, leaving the door open behind her.
If she thinks this is a game of chicken she’s going to win, she’s very much mistaken.
I follow her into the basement, only a few steps behind, by the time she gets into the shower room and sets her phone down beside the sink. I walk straight over to the stone bench and sit on it, carefully laying my jacket down beside me. The thing was added to this room long before she ever even enrolled, but it’s directly opposite the shower, so I’m not going to do anything that might suggest it wasn’t an intentional recent addition.
She hesitates.
This is it. She’s going to…
She pulls one of the thick black straps, and then the other, before shimmying the dress down over her curves.
Regardless of what she is, she’s still a representative of the Elite, and there isn’t a single item of clothing she owns that’s good enough to reflect who we are. The dress is tailor made—all of her new wardrobe is. This one is made from a stretchy fabric that clings to her body.
Most women would take it on and off over their heads, but she’s pushing it down her body like she’s performing a strip tease, inch by inch. Her gaze is locked onto my face.
Once over her hips, it falls to the floor.
