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In the next room is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen—surely it must be custom-made? I stare at that bed, wondering if other women before me were held here. If anything happened to them…in that bed…beneath his firm, unrelenting hands and body…
And that dead, emotionless gaze.
I shudder, tucking dangerous thoughts away.
Everything in this place points to luxury and decadence.
A luxurious gilded cage.
And I’m the poor canary trapped by the monster, for a purpose yet to be determined.
A glance at the clock above the fireplace reveals that some time has passed since he left. My heart thumps wildly before settling, and I scurry into the bathroom and shower as quickly as I can. Afterward, I towel dry my hair and dress in a fluffy white robe that was hanging on the back of the door.
I can’t bring myself to put my vomit-stained clothes back on. Instead, I stuff them into a hamper in a corner of the room, wondering if I’ll ever see them again.
Then I head out to the sitting area and wait, trying to slow-breathe so I can remain calm, until the snick of the door lock causes me to jump. My already edgy system kicks straight back into overdrive.
It isn’thim. The monster. Instead, a gray-haired, older woman enters, holding a garment bag over one arm, a pair of spiky black heels in one hand, and an ice pack in the other.
From the way she’s dressed, in a traditional-style black-and-white uniform, I assume she must be a housekeeper. Though, if this is a club in a city building, then “housekeeping” is a relatively loose term.
“Hello, dear,” she says, a half-smile on her face.
“Please.” I jump to my feet, rush over, and grab her by the arm. “Can you help me? I need to get out of here. Please, I need—”
“Enough.” Her tone is instantly frosty, and the pleasant expression disappears. “Get dressed. And fix your hair; it’s a mess. Then put this on your cheek.”
She hands me the ice pack.
“I will return in twenty minutes to help you disguisethat.” She points to my swollen face. “Be ready.”
She drapes the garment bag over the back of the sofa, leaves the shoes, and departs the suite. I wait for the snick of the lock.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Eventually I creep over to the door and try the handle, a rush of dizziness almost flooring me when it opens.
Oh my fucking God.She didn’t lock me back in.
I poke out my head, glancing left and right, but the corridor is empty. An elevator directly across from where I’m standing displays lit numbers above, showing that the car is descending.
Holy hell.
Thoughts leave my head, and I run.
Down the hallway in my robe and bare feet, aiming for the door at the end marked Fire Stairs. I slither to a stop, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else.
What will happen if I do this? If I defy a Mafia crime lord and make a run for it? How far will I get before he finds me? Before he…punishes me?
A frisson of something too dark to admit shivers across my skin.
Get out, I tell myself.Now.
I push open the fire door and rush through, only to collide with a hard male body and bounce back into the doorframe, cracking the back of my head. I groan at the pain and stare up.
And up.
