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I knew he was home when his voice shook the house. “Where’s my little cunt?”
What a cute nickname.
A moment later, he walked into my bedroom, wearing a crisp suit like he just left an honorable business meeting. He must make his cash from criminal activities. That was my best guess. No one had that kind of wealth unless they were breaking the law.
He approached the bed and grabbed me by the ankle, forcefully dragging me to the edge until I was underneath him.
I hated how strong he was.
“Miss me?”
“Even if you were dead, I wouldn’t miss you.” I kicked his hand away and pulled back.
Every time I defied him, he seemed to like it. “I’ll lash you for that later. But for now, there’s something we need to discuss.”
This should be good.
“Francine.” He snapped his fingers like he was beckoning to a dog.
A young woman obediently walked inside the room. She wore designer clothing and had silky smooth hair. She reminded me of the stylist who gave me a makeover before the auction. “I’m ready, sir.”
“My little cunt, this woman is going to get you ready for tonight. I’m having a dinner party and would like to invite you as my guest.”
A dinner party? That meant other people would be there? It sounded too good to be true.
“Cooperate,” he commanded. “Give her any grief, and I’ll hang you until you pass out.”
Been there, done that. It wasn’t fun.
“Got it?”
“Fuck off.” That was my usual response. I didn’t care to change it.
He turned to her, amused. “She’s a bit of a handful.”
“I can see that,” she said with a smile.
Now I turned my glare on her. “You know I’m a slave, and you continue to work for him? You know how easily it could have been you instead of me? You’re sicker than he is.”
Francine swallowed my words without even a slight reaction. They bounced off her expressionless face, evaporating into the air. “She needs a collar.”
Excuse me?
“Otherwise, I won’t work on her.” Francine crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me like I was a nuisance. She wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with me.
I actually felt sorry for her—not.
“You’re right,” he said in agreement. “That works for me.” He pulled a metal band out of his pocket. It looked just like a silver bracelet, unadorned and boring. He clasped it around my wrist then placed a remote against it, locking it to me.
I knew what it was. I’d worn one of these things once before.
Asshole.
He handed the remote to Francine. “She shouldn’t give you any trouble now. But watch her. If you plan to cut her hair, tie her down. She’ll snatch anything.”
Whether she was an innocent person or not, I’d take her out if I had to. She was there by choice, so that put her directly in my way. And anyone in my way had to be removed.
“I understand.” She had a lyrical voice, the kind you would hear during a song.
Why didn’t my captor want her instead of me? She was prettier. Had bigger tits. What was his fascination with me? Why didn’t he just tie her down and keep her as a new toy?
In that moment, I realized I still didn’t know my tormentor’s name. I never asked, and he never told me. I still didn’t care to know what it was. But maybe it would come in handy later. When I went to the embassy, my primary goal was to be free. But my secondary one was to take him out.
For that, I needed a name.
***
Francine gave me a complete makeover. She changed my hair, cutting the long and dead strands. She supplied an endless line of care products into the layers, giving it a glow full of life. It had a healthy shine, just the way hers did. She curled it at the ends, making everything bend inward to frame my face. After that, she did my makeup. She lengthened my eyelashes and dabbed them with mascara. Layer after layer was applied, and soon I was transformed into a different person. My eyes were wide and distinctive. My lips were painted a ruby red, contrasting against my fair face. With the foundation she brought, she was able to hide every single flaw I possessed. If you looked at me, you would never know I was being raped and beaten on a daily basis. You wouldn’t assume how much I suffered constantly. I looked like a normal person.
“I understand his obsession with you.” Francine ran her fingers through my dark brown hair. “You really are beautiful. You know, the natural kind. You don’t need makeup and nice clothes to look gorgeous. But, of course, it helps.”
I glared at her in the mirror. “Wow, I feel so much better now.”
She ignored my sarcasm. “Now we just need to put on the gown, and you’ll be ready for dinner.”
