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I let her lead me from the cell and down the corridor toward the stairs that led up to the main house. Or what I hoped was the main house. I hadn’t been conscious when they brought me in. Cement stairs ended at a large wooden door, and when Narana opened it, the smell of spice engulfed me.
Definitely a step up from the mold and piss smell downstairs.
A few more sharp turns and a flight of stairs later, we landed in front of another wooden door that Narana told me was my temporary suite.
How nice of grandmother to give me such luxuries.
“Shower,” Narana demanded, shoving me toward the en suite bathroom. “You have ten minutes. No more. I come back to do hair.”
“Sure,” I muttered as she stalked from the room, her tree-trunk legs moving much faster than I would have thought. The slam of the door and the click of the lock sealed me inside. Alone.
Great. I was locked in.
I made my way into the lavish, overly tiled bathroom and turned on the shower to warm before sliding out of my dirt-encrusted clothes. Did I want to have dinner with my psychotic grandmother? No. But I did want a shower, and that was enough to get me to cooperate.
For now.
They’re alive.
Stepping under the warm spray, I tilted my head back and let the water drown away the only tears I would allow myself in this house. No matter what happened after I stepped outside the bubble of this space, I wouldn’t let it break me.
But I did need a plan.
Escape wasn’t going to be easy, and my grandmother’s threat wasn’t an idle one, so I needed to be careful.
Very careful.
Matthias would come for me.
He was just running late.
Super late.
Fucker.
Grabbing the body wash and the brand-new grotesquely pink loofa that was strung up, I vigorously washed at the dust and dirt that had accumulated in that cell. The clear water ran muddy as I stripped away every vulnerability until there was nothing left but a clean canvas.
One I would paint with their blood.
“Time is up, girl,” crooked-nose Narana commanded. “Out now.”
Reluctantly, I turned off the flow of heavenly water with a heavy sigh and stepped from the shower. Narana waited expectantly with a towel in her hand. When I grabbed for it, she shook her head and instructed me to lift my arms.
Great, Porky the pig nose was going to dry me.
She toweled me roughly, getting every uncomfortable crevice, before wrapping me in a black silk robe and instructing me to sit on one of the vanity stools.
“Good girl,” she praised me when I did as she instructed. My skin crawled at her approval, like ants scurrying through an anthill. That was the last thing she said as she lotioned, polished, sugared, and primped my body and hair for the next two hours. By the time she was done, my ginger hair was curled, my face painted, and my skin shining like a brand-new car at the dealership.
I had a sinking feeling there was more to tonight than a simple dinner request. That feeling grew the moment I saw the dress laid out for me on the bed. It was a simple yet luxurious maroon velvet strapless cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline that dipped just low enough to hint at inappropriate. The bosom was slightly ruched, and the hem barely fell to mid-thigh when I stretched the fabric over my curvy frame.
Wonderful.
“Come,” Narana commanded. She took me roughly by the elbow and led me, stumbling in my stripper heels, from the room. After another few twists and turns, and a few stairs I nearly broke my neck on, we arrived.
“Jesus,” I muttered distastefully. There had to be a worse word than gaudy. Horrendously opulent, maybe? The walls were painted a deep red, and the wood beneath my feet was blacker than charcoal. The dark cherry dining room table spanned the room seating for over a dozen guests, yet only five seats had place settings.
Also in black.
