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When they stopped, Annette spoke. “S-sir, may I present your slave, Mina.”
If this man made someone who lived here and saw everything stutter…
Mina couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her face. And all she could think was that she might already be making him angry by not appearing happy and eager to be there. Would she be punished for these tears once he got her out from under the watchful eye of the house? How far would they travel to get to wherever he planned to keep her?
She flinched when a large hand cupped her cheek, and a thumb wiped tears away. She could hear quiet conversation between the buyer and someone else. Mina assumed final papers were being signed. A moment later a grape was pressed into her mouth. And then a strawberry. She heard liquid being poured into a glass. He seemed to be leisurely sipping something. Wine perhaps? Maybe champagne to congratulate himself on his acquisition.
After several long minutes he stood and tugged the leash, taking her back in the direction she’d come in. She wanted to scream. She didn’t care about the spectacle, but she was too afraid of what they’d do to her if she embarrassed them. Whoever this was had paid a lot of money. People with large sums of money to throw away on frivolity were often extremely entitled. She’d seen as much on a nightly basis as a waitress.
If she stepped out of line now, nothing would save her. She had to appease him and not make him angry. Maybe this person had a soul somewhere in there. Maybe she could reach it and find some softer part of him to appeal to.
It was the plan she’d employed with Jason and the other three before him. The plan hadn’t worked then, and it wouldn’t work now. She knew it. But it was all she had to hold onto.
When they reached the edge of the carpet and her knees hit harder floor, he helped her to stand, then he swept her up in his arms. She could do nothing but lay her head on his shoulder as he took her… to a waiting car?
She felt his strength as he carried her like she was nothing.
Mina didn’t hear the outside door open. In fact, they were going too far, and now they were moving down. Down. The dungeons were down. Why weren’t they leaving?
Panic seized her, but the man only gripped her tighter. When they reached solid ground, he moved with purpose several more steps, then opened a large, creaking door. He set her down on a bed as the door shut with a heavy thud.
She knew where she was, but she couldn’t admit it. She refused to admit it. Lindsay didn’t want her so she was supposed to be leaving the house, not be taken further inside it. It was quiet. Too quiet. Had she been left alone in here?
A weird part of her brain—probably for survival reasons—began to concoct a wild story about Lindsay having mercy on her, the sale being a ruse. He’d keep her somewhere hidden to secretly get her out later. She’d promise never to breathe a word of anything, and Lindsay would believe her and allow her to go back home.
If she just kept the blindfold on… if he didn’t speak, she could keep the fantasy a little longer.
But he wouldn’t allow such a kindness. Instead, he ripped the cloth away and she was face to face with the man she’d feared most in this house.
Brian watched her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“W-where’s my master?” She didn’t know where the bravery to speak had come from, and she’d known the answer before she spoke, but she was willing to grasp at anything—even the idea of some fictitious master out there who’d been somehow thwarted by Brian.
“I’m your master.”
Even though she knew, even though she’d suspected from the moment they’d started descending the stairs… until he verbalized it, she’d taken refuge in denial and unlikely scenarios to explain it all away.
That was the fear in Annette’s eyes. She lived in this house. She’d seen Brian in action. She knew it was wise to be afraid.
Mina scrambled back. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” She couldn’t stop the word from tumbling out of her mouth over and over, until the panic attack hit in full force, and her breathing escalated to the point that words couldn’t come out at all. She was breathing too fast. The room was spinning. She felt dizzy.
She heard a door slam, but she was too lost inside herself to think about anything but the fact that she couldn’t breathe right.
She jerked back when Brian invaded her physical space a few moments later. She recoiled at the sound of a snap. Her vision had narrowed in the panic, but she could barely make out a brown paper bag.
“Breathe into this.”
Her hands shook as she took the bag from him and tried to do what he said to make it all stop.
His hand was steady and surprisingly gentle on her back, his words soothing instead of harsh. “Slowly in. Now out. Good. Again.”
She breathed into the bag until she felt she could maintain the steady rhythm on her own.
She flinched when his fingers trailed gently through her hair. The way he touched her was a complete contradiction to his reputation. And she knew his reputation wasn’t just stories. Every single person in the house reacted to him in such a way as to give credence to any story that spread about him.
Their previous encounters he’d been gentle as well. He’d helped her up when she’d fallen the first night. And then in the dungeon corridor, the way he’d touched her back and pressed his cheek against hers… He’d held her arms over her head, but he hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t been rough or violent.
The opening of Chopin’sNocturne 2began to play on the CD player. She wasn’t a classical music buff. She just knew what it was because she’d listened to it so many times on the discs Lindsay had given her. It was a famous piece, she’d just never known the name. It had been familiar. Safe.
