Chapter Ten
Nothingcan prepare you for waking up, disoriented, in a strange, foreign room, completely unaware of where you are.
The mattress beneath my back was much softer than mine. My clothes had been exchanged for a baby blue, chiffon chemise, and a piece of cotton was on my left arm, underneath a bandage.
I was in a large bedroom decorated with the warm colors of Sahara Beige and Light Elm. Glancing around, I zeroed in on the matching robe draped across the foot of the bed, and scrambled for it. I’d barely slipped the silk garment up my arms when the effects of a full bladder hit me full force.
I needed to find a bathroom pronto.
There were three different sets of white antique doors, each on a different wall. It wasn’t in my nature to barge through unknown doors. That had gotten me locked in the basement for two weeks when I’d done it at Glenda’s. But I also wasn’t going to defecate on myself.
Charging across the room as fast as I could on legs that felt like Jell-O, I passed a stone fireplace, a seating area, and what I assumed was a closet.
I sighed in relief when I found exactly what I was looking for. It wasn’t until I plopped down on the toilet to handle my business that I noticed how lavish my surroundings were. Everything was modernized, sleek, large, and clean.
Veryclean.
After flushing the toilet, I walked to the sink to wash my hands. With my bladder no longer distracting me, it started to set in that I had been taken. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gripped the edge of the round basin and started to count in my head.
So far, I’d been changed and put in a bed nicer than my own, and it didn’t feel like anyone had touched me aside from the sore spot on my arm. Things could be worse, right? Technically, I was supposed to be dead.
Opening my eyes, I saw Mason in the doorway reflected back at me. Staring straight into the mirror, his eyes locked with mine.
He was no longer in a full suit. Just slacks, a white button-down shirt, and maroon tie. We stood like that for only seconds, but it felt like eons. It was he who broke the silence.
“You’ve been sleeping for almost forty-eight hours. I think I gave you a little too much sedative,” he mused.
That explained why there was a piece of cotton on my arm.What else has he done to you without your knowledge?
I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the sink until my fingers began to tingle. Aside from my arm being a little tender, I felt fine. I was okay with being blissfully ignorant about anything else for the time being.
“Dinner’s ready. I’m sure you’re hungry,” he added after another minute.Huh?He took me so we could eat dinner? Shaking my head, I bit my lower lip, continuing to watch him. What if this wasn’t real?
What if my mother slipped me more pills? Or maybe she won and had finally succeeded in creating the girl she always said I was. Wait. Did he say forty-eight hours?
Someone kidnapped you. You should be thanking him for paying you any attention. You should be focusing on doing whatever you need to do to make sure he keeps you, and never sends you back to the she-devil.
“Stop,” I mumbled, staring into the sink, rubbing my temple in an attempt to quiet my head.
In the midst of my rambling, Mason pushed away from the door and came up behind me. For a man of his height and build, he shouldn’t have been able to move with the stealth of a housecat.
“I know that head of yours likes to make things hard, and I’m sure you’re confused, but try not to have a meltdown your first night awake. We haven’t even got acquainted yet.” He lifted the tie from around his neck and placed it over my eyes, binding it behind my head. Responding on instinct, I reached up to remove it.
“If you touch it, I’m going to do your wrists next,” he warned me, his voice still soft and gentle.
I quickly dropped my hands back down to my sides. Curling and uncurling my fingers into the center of my palms, I anxiously waited for what he planned to do next, stiffening when he ran a hand through my hair.
Trying to gain control of my frazzled thoughts, I barely heard his murmured, “Beautiful.”He grabbed hold of my left hand, grasping it firmly in his, leading me away from the sink.
“Where am I?”
“Exactly where you belong,” he replied casually.
The smooth marble floor of the bathroom turned into the plush damask carpet of the bedroom. There was a small creak and a little burst of air from a door opening; then, marble was beneath my bare feet again. We paused exactly fourteen steps later.
“Hold onto me.” He let my hand go, moving it to his bicep. My other hand was placed on a smooth, cool banister.
“Go slow.” He guided me down the stairs, keeping a hand on my lower back. I could feel the firm muscle under his shirt, holding onto him as he advised. Every time I inhaled, I breathed his scent in. He smelled like the expensive scotch malt my father used to drink, moss, and spiced sandalwood.
