Why, indeed. Squeezing my eyes shut to block out the bedroom in front of me, I whisper, “King dragged me onto his tour bus and says he’s taking me home with him tomorrow.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. If you’re on atour bus, you’re not at hislast day of tour partyanymore. Get an autograph for me. I’m hanging up now. My show’s about to come on. Be home as quickly as you can. You know your father hates a messy kitchen.”
“Mom, please.” My voice wobbles. “I’m not joking. I-I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what he’s planning to do with me. He’s pushed me into his room and told me to get ready for bed.” Tears well. “I don’t know if I should call the police or if it’ll even help. It’s soloudoutside, I don’t think I can scream, and—”
“Clara. Shut up, honey.”
I clamp my mouth shut.
“You’re telling me that you don’t know what to do if King, a known millionaire and world-renowned musicalartist, has shoved you into his bedroom and wants to take you home?”
“Y-yes?”
“Don’t be an idiot, sweetheart. What youdois whatever he wants, whatever he says, whatever he makes you. You shut your pretty mouth and milk the attention for all it’s worth, putting my good genetics to great use.”
I don’t…understand. Aren’t men evil?
“If my pretty figure really gained a rich man’s attention while you’ve been busy fumbling around with it, I’d be proud of you for not screwing that up, and I’d tell you convince him you’re on birth control so you can get pregnant. A baby scandal would do us all nicely for the rest of our lives, even when he inevitably gets bored of you.” She snorts. “Anyway, that’s what you’d do if you weren’t being an idiot and tormenting your poor mother withcruel jokes. See you in, what? An hour? Two. Try and hurry. Lov—oh, that’s my show. Bye.”
Click.
Stone still, I stare at the carpet in front of me, feel my phone slip from my fingers. It hits the ground with a dullthud—right after my heart.
She…doesn’t believe me.
Worse, if she did…I think she was being serious concerning what she’d want me to do.
Nausea rises up the back of my throat, then a knock sends me leaping away from the door. Lukas calls, “Are you ready yet, cupcake?”
I look down at my work uniform, whip my attention toward the drawers beneath the bed then toward the bathroom, and stammer, “S-sorry! One more minute.”
“Okay, cutie pie. No rush. You’re okay, promise.”
My skin crawls with a mix of terror and apprehension.
“Our treats for the trip tomorrow just got here, so it’ll take me a minute to wrap them up, then I’ll be in to join you.”
One minute.
I have one minute.
One minute…and then he’sjoining me.
Rummaging through his drawers, I find a shirt, peel my work clothes off, and shakingly shove it over my head. It falls tight against my chest, looser around my middle, then hugs my hips in a way that makes me unbelievably queasy. After a few more panicked moments, I find a new toothbrush and am violently scrubbing my teeth by the time Lukas knocks again.
“Are you ready now?” he calls.
I muffle something likealmostaround the foam.
He mishears it as confirmation to open up the door.
Whirling toward him, I still. My heart smacks against my ribs as his dual-colored eyes trace up the trail of my shed clothes to find me. Once they have, they gomassive.
His hand rises, andhungerfills him. Cutting his fingers into his hair, he locks the dark strands in his grip and mutters a coarse swear. “This is worse than I thought. You actually changed for me…”
Was I…notactuallysupposed to?
Kicking my phone aside with the toe of his boot, he stalks toward me, stops, and braces an arm against the narrow bathroom arch—filling the entryway like a wall and shrinking the already cramped room into nothingness.
