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“Perfect timing. I need an update before I turn off my phone for a few hours,” Dante says, his lips curling up into a wicked grin to match the darkness in his eyes.
I grab the throw pillow on the couch and place it in front of my stomach, squeezing hard, like the pillow will somehow protect me from the dangers ahead.
Dante smirks, lifts the phone from his ear, and says, “That pillow won’t save you, whore. I need to step outside to take this call. When I return, I expect you will be naked, and your cunt dripping wet, waiting for my cock.”
I grimace as a low growl escapes my stomach.
Dante’s stare intensifies. “If not, I will punish you.” His eyes shine with a new level of hatred as he speaks. It would ruin his fucking plans if I were naked and my cunt was dripping for him.
He steps out the glass doors, and I almost consider stripping and doing everything possible to make my pussy wet for him. It would be worth it to see the surprise on his face, but he’d probably punish me anyway.
I watch as Dante paces outside the glass door. Stupid, fucking glass. What was so beautiful a minute ago has quickly lost its appeal. If it was sheetrock, then I could slink across the wooden floor to his desk and retrieve the knife without him noticing.
Maybe I still can?
If I had the knife, I could kill him. Or at the least injure him.
But if he caught me, it would be so much worse.
I try to still my body and become invisible. Dante isn’t paying me any attention. Whoever is on the phone has Dante captivated.
Dante frowns and then keeps walking, out of view.
My heart stops. He left me alone.
He didn’t tie me up.
I’m alone with a weapon.
I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone, but I won’t wait to see.
This is my chance.
I force my body up from the couch. I expect unthinkable pain to roll through my body and drop me back to the couch, but I feel nothing.
Adrenaline or hope has filled my body, making it impossible for me to feel pain.
I grin, my cheeks flush, and my body moves. This ends today. I’m either going to be free or die trying.
I race across the room to snatch the knife. I move too fast and too slow at the same time. In reality, I have no idea how fast I walk.
I keep one eye on the glass wall, expecting Dante to return into view at any second. When my hand grasps the smooth surface of the black handle of the knife, I feel hope. Real hope.
I can escape.
I grip the knife firmly in my hand as I face the door. I could wait for Dante to return and stab him the second he enters. Or I could take my chance and run.
I tiptoe to the door, keeping the knife hidden down by my side as I lean against the door to see if Dante is just outside the door.
The hallway is empty.
My hands are sweaty as I work to hold onto the knife. I don’t have much strength. I’m standing purely on adrenaline.
If Dante returns, it will take everything I have to stab him. It will just be luck whether I kill him or not.
I’m not waiting.
I glance back at his desk and notice a pair of keys. When did he toss his car keys onto his desk?
