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A hand pushed me roughly out the door, and I stumbled forward. I spun around to find Frankie’s grinning face in the doorway.
“Oops. Bye!” She cackled once before her face disappeared inside, pulling the door shut quickly.
When I tried the handle, it didn’t budge. I banged on the metal frame of the door. “Frankie! Come on, open up!”
“What was that? Can’t hear you,” her only somewhat muffled voice drifted through the glass windows.
Grumbling, I turned back to face the suit.
He smiled gently and opened the limo’s back door. “Air conditioning and fresh water are waiting for you, Ms. Johnson. My name is Samson should you need anything else.”
Since I always kept the basement door locked and didn’t carry keys while inside the gym (because why would I?), I had a choice to make. I could stand out here until Frankie caved and let me in, barge my way in if someone opened the door to leave, or go get dolled up to meet Dominic Sato.
Since Frankie was even more stubborn than I was and, for some unknown reason, supporting this kidnapping, I had a strong suspicion she wouldn’t let anyone inside leave anytime soon. That or she’d find a way to magic them out. The sun was already hot on my pale skin, which only left option C.
Pride was a hard thing to swallow sometimes, but going along with this plan would allow me the opportunity to give Dominic a real piece of my mind. He would regret kidnapping me, no matter how many fancy things he threw my way.
I didn’t need or want his charity.
“Please call me Bree.” I smiled politely at Samson and slipped into the limo.
As promised, cool air kissed my skin as soon as I slid across the seat. A bottle of cold water waited for me, as did a chilled bottle of champagne, already uncorked with a full glass beside it. The extraordinary wealth and privilege on display practically assaulted my senses.
There could be worse ways to spend my afternoon before chewing someone out.
I helped myself to the bubbly and sank back into the luxurious, black leather seat. I’d never sat on anything this comfortable in the human world, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much something like this cost to maintain.
Absurd amounts of money wasted on a mode of transportation that was slowly killing our planet. I scrunched up my nose and set the champagne flute back.
Ridding the world of one extra-long car wouldn’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but landlubbers loved having every new trinket and gadget that came on the market. So many materialistic things, when there were other options like public transportation and recycled products.
My gaze drifted out the window, where the busy sidewalks flew by. Used food wrappers and empty cans and bottles littered the roads and blocked sewage drains, strengthening my point.
Leaving our home had been my idea, but I wish I’d known more about this world before I came. Not that there were many other options to escape our father, but at least I’d have come in knowing rather than realizing it after the fact.
I wasn’t sure how that made a difference, but somehow it did.
When the limo finally slowed to a stop along a curb, I peered up at the storefront. We were parked in front of the city’s most exclusive spa and salon, La Belle Vie. Yes, even I’d heard of the place. Of course he would pick this place.
I gritted my teeth, steeling myself for an afternoon of lavish extravagance that was sure to end in frustration—Dominic’s frustration. The thought made me smile, and I relaxed a bit.
Samson opened the car door and offered his hand to help me out. I eyed it for a moment before accepting, reminding myself that he wasn’t responsible for this foolish venture.
“Shall we go in, Ms. Johnson?” His genuine smile reached his eyes, melting some of my resolve. “Your treatments await.”
Treatments. As in more than one. This was going to be a long afternoon.
Inside, I was ushered into an elegant waiting room. Soft, muted colors adorned the walls, creating an atmosphere of understated elegance. A crystal chandelier hung like a work of art in the center of the room, casting an inviting glow that bathed the space in a soft, golden light.
A woman in a crisp white blouse and pinned-up jet-black hair approached, her smile professionally pleasant. “Ms. Johnson, we are so pleased to have you with us today. Mr. Sato has arranged a wonderful treatment plan, followed by styling, and your choice of attire from our designer collection for your date this evening.”
“There seems to have been a mistake, ma’am,” I said with a tight smile. “I’m not interested in any of this.”
“Please, call me Amy, and accept my sincerest apologies for any confusion.” Her smile never wavered. “However, if you’ll allow me to point out, everything has already been paid for and arranged. Perhaps it would be best to enjoy yourself for now, and you can express your concerns to Mr. Sato in person after?”
In other words, I was stuck. Tides, he was good.
I sighed, resigned to my fate. “Fine. Do your worst.”
