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As the car slows, I stare out of the window and note the city outside. We are back where we started–almost. I know this district. Millionaire’s row, they call it. Fuck. They are taking me back to Carter to deal with.
The fog in my brain is clouding all rational thought and as the car pulls into an underground car park, my nerves are racing and cutting me deep.
Somehow, I’ll make a run for it. When the door opens, I’ll pretend to stumble and then scream for help. There must be cameras in here, surely.
But the car doesn’t stop, and I’m amazed when we pull into what appears to be a container of sorts. Then I feel the ground move and I stare at the steel flashing past me out of the window. An elevator? Am I in a fucking elevator, in a car?
My mouth drops open as we travel the short distance and as the ground thumps beneath me, we waste no time in pulling into what appears to be a car showroom. I stare in disbelief at the performance cars littering the space and the gleaming white floor of surgical cleanliness.
Who is this guy?
My mind is struggling to keep up and as the car stops, the door opens, and a hand reaches in and pulls me out.
There is no point in stumbling, or even trying to get away because I am already in my prison and there is no way out.
The man holding my arm obviously knows that too because he drops it and walks away, leaving me speechless behind him.
As I blink in astonishment, a vision appears. A woman is walking toward me as if she is on the runway at Paris. She’s gorgeous.
She stops before me and casts a critical eye over my appearance and is obviously displeased because she shakes her head and her eyes flicker with distaste.
“Come.” Her accent is heavy and I’m guessing this is the Katerina the scary man spoke of, and I wonder with trepidation what exactly her services are.
She expects me to follow, and I’m almost tempted to stay put, but she could well be my route out of here, so I scurry after her like an eager puppy.
We head out of the car showroom into another elevator, and as I catch sight of my face in the mirrored walls, I am ashamed of myself. I look disgusting.
My clothes are caked in dried blood and my hair is ratted from the wig. My face is pale and streaked with tears and my eyes are red and my nose is bloody.
My wrists and ankles burn, and I’m starving as my stomach growls in protest in the disapproving silence.
My companion says nothing and appears bored already as she studies her perfect manicure and pointedly doesn’t look my way.
I’m getting bitch vibes from her already and set my mood accordingly.
The elevator stops and as we head through the doors, I stare in amazement at the huge white room that is soulless, much like its owner.
There is nothing here at all, just glass and mirrors and marble on every surface. I follow her up a spiral staircase and stare in astonishment at the biggest bathroom I have seen in my life.
It’s as if every luxury available was designed to fit inside this room, and I want to rub my eyes in disbelief. Everything is white and I could believe I’d died and gone to heaven because luxury is the understatement of the year.
Katerina, if that is her name, points toward a huge shower that could house a football team.
“Give me your clothes and wash thoroughly.” Her clipped accent is thick with her native tongue, and I blush as she holds out her hands.
“Now.”
Her curt request has me stripping in seconds because, quite frankly, I really could use a shower right now.
I try not to dwell on the fact I’m standing naked before a stranger and dive into the shower and gasp when the jets start on sensors or something.
The water rains down on me like a baptism of sorts and it’s the perfect temperature. I reach for the shower gel that is in a dispenser on the wall and its luxurious scent makes me sniff the air with delighted appreciation. I could get used to this. It certainly beats our small bathroom at home. In fact, this bathroom is bigger than our home and I never really considered that small.
I relish my time in here and take full advantage of the facilities as I shampoo my hair and smother my skin in fragrance. If it was possible to stay in here all day, I would and I’m disappointed when the jets stop raining and glorious steam blows the moisture away. It tickles and I gasp in delight as my body enjoys a blow dry of the most decadent kind.
As soon as my mini car wash kind of thing stops, I step out of the shower and reach for the toweling robe that is warm to my touch and wrap a towel around my damp hair.
I already feel amazing, as if I have been caressed by an ardent lover and I really must work hard in life to afford one of these myself. I’d do without the house and just live in the bathroom because this is a place I never want to leave.
