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First, we have to get there. And I have to think about what I will do next in order to make it happen.Chapter EightCarinaAfter Tommy leaves, I stare at the show of fabulous wealth he’s left in my room. If I’m being honest with myself – only myself, because I wouldn’t admit it to anyone else here – I’m touched by the gesture. Just like that, he went out and hunted down all the things I wanted. Things I would never even dream of owning under any normal circumstances. Still, I don’t believe that I truly own them. When I leave here, he will probably give them to some other girl. I haven’t seen him with anyone else, but a boss like him – he must have women all over him all the time.
I try to resist the urge to look for a long while, but I’m uncomfortable in my clothes, worn since yesterday. I creep to the door and make sure that it is locked – even if it isn’t much reassurance, given that the lock is on the other side – before looking guiltily at the racks. It wouldn’t hurt to take one thing, would it? In fact, it could even be an act of defiance. To take from him, to name something as my own, even as he holds me captive here. I could spend a little of his money, and enjoy it.
I make a split-second decision and snatch a blouse and a pair of jeans from the rack before I can change my mind. I rush into the bathroom – which, in this case, has a lock on the correct side – and lock myself in, shaking a little at the thought of wearing these clothes.
There’s something to it – the thought of being dressed in things that he picked out. That he bought. Almost as though he is beginning to own me. I should despise the thought, but there’s that rush of heat again – pooling in the pit of my stomach. I undress quickly and shower, trying to put thoughts of Tommy out of my mind. I have other things to think about, like what I’m going to do with my time for the rest of the week here, what I’ll need to do when I get home.
I think of the missed messages I must have, notifications on my phone, and shudder a little. At least they say that it’s good to take a break from social media. I’m getting that, whether I want it or not.
When I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and reach for the clothes, I’m surprised by how well they fit. Like they were made for me. Not only that, but I can see the difference in quality. How they flatter my body, how the materials are soft under my fingers, yet strong and durable. I guess you really do get what you pay for.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost frown. I don’t look like me. Well, I do, but a better, more upgraded version. I can’t help but find myself warming to Tommy a little. Maybe my defenses are down because of how hot he is, how easy it is for my mind to drift to fantasy when he’s around. I know I shouldn’t feel anything towards him – especially anything like gratitude.
But somehow, I can’t help but view him in a positive light, and it’s making it very dangerous for me to stay here, in his orbit.
I sit around, flicking idly through a few of the books in the room for the rest of the morning. It feels strange to sit so still with nothing to do. I’m usually rushing around trying to get the baking done, but now I don’t have anything to occupy my time. I don’t dare look over the rest of the clothes in case I’m tempted to try them on. The jewelry stays firmly inside the boxes. Needing to be dressed in clean clothes is one thing – accepting his gifts without question is another.
There’s a knock at the door just after noon and then the turning of a key in the lock, and just a moment later, Tommy steps through. I see that he’s pushing another cart full of lunch – no goons with him this time. Just as well. I still haven’t got over the way they treated me, yanking me from my home and shoving me into a car.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Tommy says. He eyes my clothes with a sparkle in his gaze but says nothing. I don’t speak either. I don’t want him to be any more smug than he already is.
“I’ve hardly had any chance to work up an appetite,” I scoff.
“I can bring you some activities to occupy your time, if you only ask,” Tommy says, with that same mild tone that seems to infuriate me so much. He shouldn’t be speaking to me that way. He should be yelling, swearing, calling me names. It would make it easier to understand how I feel about him – replace the want with hate. “In the meantime, lunch is a good enough diversion.”
