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Getting through to her might be a little more difficult now that there’s a rift between us, but I’m sure I can get her right back to eating out of my hand. I have more than enough resources to pull it off, and if she’s shallow enough, all she’ll need to stay happy is some shiny things and good sex.
But where do I start?
The dress she was wearing when I found her seemed expensive, so I know that she appreciates the finer things in life already. I don’t know her measurements, but I’m sure I could impress her by getting some clothes custom-made for her. That’s a good place to start without too much sexual aggression. If I’m pushy right from the beginning, she might shut down entirely.
Fortunately for me, I’m closely connected in the circle of ridiculously overpriced luxury designers. Being as rich as I am, I’ve been to more elite parties than I can remember, and for a good reason. It keeps me in tune with the ecosystem of the underground business world, and I’ve been able to call in favors from people of all professions.
One of these people is a designer by the name of Stefan. I met him at an afterparty when one of my closest associates took over a coveted territory that we’d been fighting to conquer for years. He was a little bit standoffish, perhaps kind of aloof, but we quickly bonded as we commiserated about how annoying the girls at the previous party were.
I find his number in my phone and call him, sitting back in my chair as I light up a cigar. The line rings a couple of times before he picks up, and when he does, he sounds happy to be hearing from me.
“Hey, what’s up? Been a minute since I heard from you,” he says.
I’m relieved that he’s looked forward to speaking with me. Ithasbeen a while since I’ve seen him, and I don’t want him to think I just want to use him for favors. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Did you hear about my brother? He got arrested, so that’s been taking up most of my time. Hey, I’m wondering if you can do something for me.”
“Hmm. What is it?” he asks, his tone curious.
“There’s a woman that I need you to make some clothes for. I’m talking about the sluttiest cuts and fabrics you have. All lace everything, sheer, whatever. I need something sexy for this girl. Can you do that for me?”
“She isn’t one of those girls that we met at the party, is she? You’d never actually do that, promise me,” he jokes.
“No, no, though that would be a much easier situation to navigate if I’m being honest. I can find some reference pictures to send to you if you need them,” I reply, coughing a little as I choke on cigar smoke.
“Please, I don’t need reference pictures. Just get me her measurements, and I’ll make something so slutty and degrading that you won’t let her leave the house,” he replies with excitement. “I haven’t done anything fun in forever, mostly just wedding alterations.”
If only he knew.
“Yeah, you get me. I’ll send the measurements as soon as I have them. Thanks, I really appreciate it,” I say before I hang up the phone.
Now all I have to do is figure out June’s measurements, which I can do by measuring the dress she was wearing when I found her.
This might be easier than I thought it was going to be.
ChapterEighteen
JUNE
I’m attempting to readWar and Peacefor the fifth time this week, setting it down to rest my eyes as I consider how bad another nap would really be. I’m bored beyond comprehension, and I would give anything for a magazine or ten minutes on YouTube. Why does being a captive have to be so fucking monotonous?
For the past few days, I’ve been attempting to sleep away my boredom with no luck. Even my dreams have become greyscale and pointless. Even a dream about going to the dentist’s office would be better than staring at the ceiling all day as I have been.
Just as I’m about to drift off, I hear Marcello approaching the bedroom door. He enters without knocking, which is how he shows me that he thinks I’m his property. He doesn’t seem to respect my autonomy at all, even under the guise ofprotectingme from these mystery men who he hasn’t even named yet.
“I have something for you,” he says, his expression self-satisfied and smug. “I think you’ll like it a lot.”
He hands me a black paper shopping bag, and I cautiously take it from him, uncertain of what to expect. Is it books? Is it a severed head?
I start to open the bag, but he puts out his hand to stop me. “No, no. I want you to be surprised. Just reach your hand in and pull it out.”
Filled with a vague sense of dread, I do as he says, pulling my face away from the opening of the bag and reaching in. After feeling around for a moment, I’ve determined the item to be multiple articles of clothing. So far, it feels like everything is a completely different fabric. Why is he doing this?
“Where the hell did you get this?” I ask as I pull a tiny, black lace dress out of the unmarked bag.
“Don’t worry about it. Just appreciate it, yeah? It cost me several thousand euros,” Marcello replies with just a little too much smugness.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t care how much it costs. It’s obvious that you can afford things. What, are you trying to show off your money to an actual hostage? That’s so sad for you,” I reply spitefully.
Unamused with my assessment, he sits on the bed and crosses his arms. “Why don’t you just try it on and tell me how you like it?”
