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“But... where are we going?”
“Out.”
That much had already been made clear.
Quill dug through a box of her things until he found a black skirt. It flared out in a way that was a bit too cute and young for her and ended a couple of inches above her knees.
“Put this on. No panties.”
Saskia changed clothes, too nervous to question him. He dug through more of her boxes and found a pair of high-heeled black leather boots that came just over her calves. She hadn’t known what she was thinking when she’d bought those. She’d tried them once with this skirt, but the ensemble just looked too slutty. Quill had caught up with her in Venice before she’d had a chance to return them to the store.
“And these,” he said, tossing the boots at her.
“Please, can I wear panties, Master?”
“No.”
“What about the bandages?” She would be mortified for someone to see them. He had to let her wear pants or something to cover it.
He appraised her with a quick once-over and a dark smile. “Where we’re going, I want everyone to know you’ve been on your knees.”
She didn’t bother asking again where exactly that was.
He practically dragged her outside to the Bentley.
Marcus waited next to it. He gave her a quick once-over. The desire in his eyes was unmistakable. “Sir, do you want me to...”
Quill held up a hand. “No. I’ve got it.” He opened the passenger door for her and got in on the other side.
The car buzzed with his energy as they pulled onto the main road, leaving Marcus behind.
“Master, am I being punished?”
“No.”
“But where...?”
They were only a couple of streets down from the house when he pulled onto the shoulder and turned toward her, his face serious as a eulogy.
“Saskia, do not speak again until you are specifically addressed for the rest of the night.”
She shrank back as he started the car again and continued to wherever he was taking them. He could say it wasn’t a punishment all he wanted, but it felt like a punishment. He seemed angry, though she wasn’t sure if she could differentiate between anger and simple intensity from Quill. It all seemed to jumble and blend together into one living, breathing thing that threatened to pull her under.
They left the city. When they moved onto a long patch of lonely isolated road in the desert, Saskia started to cry. Why was he taking her out here in the middle of nowhere? Was he going to kill her? Leave her on the side of the road like an unwanted mutt? In the middle of the desert, abandonment would be a death sentence.
But surely there was some reason beyond vulnerability and last-minute humiliation that he’d dressed her this way, some purpose he had planned that she still might survive.
His hand moved to her knee in an odd gesture of comfort. “There is no need for you to cry. I just want some peace and quiet for a while.”
Saskia nodded and wiped the tears away. His hand resting calmly on her leg, and those few wordsdidinexplicably soothe her, but that was only until they reached the warehouse.
It was a couple of hours outside the city, perhaps a little farther. The large boxy building couldn’t hide behind trees. There were none. The landscape was utterly barren. A high fence wrapped around the warehouse to obscure the parking lot.
A sign on the outer gate read, “Mr. Fizzy Pop Bottling Company”.
Saskia had never heard of any beverage called “Mr. Fizzy Pop”. It sounded like a fake product and a fake company.
Quill stopped the car just outside the gate and left it running. He got out and entered a long numbered code into a keypad. The gate opened.
