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The staff took me to a special massage room, undressed me, and placed me in a bubble bath full of roses, which is now my scent. After being the definition of trash, I currently feel like a rose plucked from a field.
And not in anI’ll go to a better placeway, but in anI’ll probably wither and perishway.
The girls did all sorts of things to my body. They dyed my hair, waxed me, did my nails and my makeup. Then they put me in a straight brown dress that’s a bit bigger than my thin frame. The heels are a perfect size, although they’re uncomfortable and I can barely stand in them, let alone walk.
The entire time that they were turning me left and right, doing this and that, I felt like a doll. The type that’s played with and tossed aside once the fun is over. Already, I felt like I was losing my will.
I didn’t want to change my hair color. As hideous as it was, the blonde was something I had chosen. When I said that, the manager, who introduced herself as Emily, said she was following Mr. Volkov’s order and neither of us had a say in anything.
I chose not to make her job even harder, considering that she and the rest of her staff stayed late just for my sake. Adrian might feel normal doing that to other people, but I’m not like him. I dislike being the source of others’ discomfort—it’s a shitty place to be.
Adrian seems more and more like a sociopath, so I doubt he cares who might suffer because of his demands. As long as he gets what he wants, to hell with everyone else.
So even though Emily and her staff were attentive, I felt my skin crawling. No amount of rose baths or luxurious clothes would’ve made me feel comfortable.
It’s like I’ve been thrust into an alternate reality and have been living on thick, murky air ever since this afternoon. Ever since I was trapped in his gray eyes. Ever since I made the mistake of existing in his space. And now, I’m starting to think it’ll be impossible to find a way out.
But even if I did, where would I go? To jail?
Surely, the discomfort of being here is better than jail.
Or so I’d like to believe.
The moment I looked in the mirror after Emily and the others finished, I saw a reflection of the woman in the wedding picture Adrian showed me.
Lia.
I’d become her and a tear nearly escaped my eyes at that thought.
Is there anything crueler than erasing one’s identity? Than wiping away the essence of their being as if it never existed?
Because that’s what I feel right now as I stand in front of him. I’m not Winter in his eyes. I’m already Lia, and he intends to cement that fact into the very marrow of my bones going forward.
He won’t be able to succeed.
I’m Winter Cavanaugh and I’m living on behalf of myself and my baby girl. No one will be able to erase those facts from my head, not even a frightening man like Adrian.
Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose are on either side of him. The bulky one doesn’t look at me, but Crooked Nose stares for a second before diverting his attention to his hands that are clasped in front of him.
There’s a red bruise on his cheek that I hadn’t noticed earlier and I don’t know why I dislike the sight of it. I don’t know this man, and I’m sure that if his boss told him to execute me, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
Adrian stands, startling me from my thoughts. He’s tall, dark, and handsome while sitting. But when he stands, towering over my short frame, I feel the need to bolt out of my skin.
He motions at me with his finger to turn around. I do, my cheeks flaming with pent-up anger. I know he thinks I’m of a lower class, but does he really consider me his pet or something?
“Is it to your liking, sir?” Emily asks, hopefully, expectedly, like his approval is the bane of her existence.
He nods once as I stop, facing him. Emily grins wide as if she has just pleased the king of the jungle and he’ll throw a reward her way.
“Here’s your coat, Mrs. Volkov.” She offers it to me and I put it on, thankful that it hides the deep-cut sleeveless dress. I might have small breasts, but their curves were showing.
Adrian grabs me by the elbow and leads me to the elevators. Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose follow after us but keep a distance. Emily and the rest of her staff stand in front of the transparent glass of the elevator as a show of respect.
Adrian must be someone important if he has guards following him everywhere and staff standing by as he leaves.
I don’t think he’s a spy, but he seems more dangerous than a simple businessman. I peek a glance at him. He’s still gripping me by the elbow, his touch gentle but firm. I know because when I attempt to remove my arm, he tightens his hold, forbidding any movements.
His message is clear: I’m to go along with whatever he pleases. I signed my fate to him the moment he coerced me into this.
