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AMELIA
My whole body is shaking.
I’m huddled on the white rug in Lorenzo’s room, sitting on my feet. My arms are wrapped around my chest, and my dress cloaks my knees.
I never thought I would be so thankful to have chosen such a conservative dress for an occasion, but now it feels like the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I chose the dress after making the foolish mistake of thinking my father might come visit to congratulate me on my successful protest. I even avoided making dinner plans in case he wanted to celebrate with me.
How naive. He isn’t proud of me for this. He probably hasn't even heard about it.
I’m not even sure I’m proud ofmyselfanymore. I don’t feel like a strong and brave woman. More like a silly little girl as I sit nervously waiting for Lorenzo to walk through the door.
A silly little girl who’s about to become a murderer.
I became a vegan when I was eighteen. For seven years I’ve been loyal to my oath not to take an animal’s life, directly or indirectly, and today I’m about to break it tenfold.
My thighs squeeze together at the thought. The knife is lodged between my thighs with the handle sticking far enough out that it’ll be easy to grab at a moment's notice. But not so much that it’s noticeable through the dress.
I’ve planned this out as thoroughly as I could. Once Lorenzo is in the room, I’m going to keep still. I need to wait until I know for sure he has the keys to the chain and that his guard is down. I surprised him this morning when I thanked him for taking the leash off me, so that’s the first thing I’ll try to throw him off. Politeness. If that doesn’t work, I’ll have to lure him with anger, which I doubt would be hard to do.
Either way, as soon as the keys to the chain are in his hands and he’s within reach, I’m going to stab him. If he isn’t dead after that, I’ll force the code for the elevator out of him.
Ifhe isn’t dead.
My stomach folds in on itself, and I cover a hand over my mouth when I think I might puke. When the nausea passes, I take deep breaths through my nose and grit my teeth. I smoothe my dress, my fingers an inch from where the knife rests.
I’m going to do it. No matter what the me from yesterday would think, I’m going to do it. If I want to live, I have no other choice.
The elevator dings, and my head snaps toward the bedroom door. My hands pause on my dress, and my shaking ceases. Air catches in my lungs.
There’s no pause when the person gets off the elevator. Their steps are a constant sound, getting louder until they’re at the door. It opens and in steps Lorenzo.
His lips quirk up when he sees me, and he shuts the door behind him. I tense as he walks to the bed and sets a paper bag on the mattress. I stare at the bag and hope to develop X-ray vision so I can see inside. There’s something ominous about it, but that doesn’t say much. Everything Lorenzo touches seems ominous.
Lorenzo removes his jacket and tosses it on the bed. He rolls up the sleeves to his white button-down, revealing tanned muscles. Almost too tan for a man who presumably spends most of his time in a casino.
He meets my eyes, and I glance between the bag and him with the silent question. The plan to manipulate him has left, along with my ability to speak. My muscles are wound up, and my nerves are on fire. If he gets close enough, I’m striking.
He sits on the edge of the bed, facing me, and drags the bag beside him. “I brought you a gift.”
I narrow my eyes and square my shoulders.
Lorenzo smiles, his canines gleaming at me. It hits me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine and pokes at every nerve already screaming at me to be alert. Danger. Run. Fight.
His smile fades, and he pats his lap. “Come, Kitty. Let me show you.”
“Stop calling me that,” I bark. “You know my name.”
“I’m your master, Kitty. I give you your name.”
I inhale fury with every breath through my nose. For a minute it’s the only thing that can be heard. My teeth are bared and it strikes me that he’s actually managing to degrade me down to an animal. I imagine the collar around my throat and my hair wild from a night of tossing and turning on the floor. I’m glad I don’t have a mirror.
My anger intensifies at the imagery, and I press my thighs together to feel the knife. I could kill him right now. As terrified as I’ve been at the thought and as passive as I believe myself to be, this man is my exception. I don’t even need the knife, right now I could claw at his eyes and throat like the cat he claims I am.
Lorenzo feigns a frown. It’s obvious it’s fake by the amusement dancing in his dark irises. “Is something wrong, Kitty? You seem upset.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
The amusement drains from his eyes in an instant, and his lips pull into a thin line. The reaction does something to me. It gives me a manic sense of power, and I laugh at him growing angry. I shift and rock forward onto my knees, the knife shifting against my thigh.
