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I close my eyes tight in fear of what awaits me.
“Leandro?” I hear a desperate voice, followed by footsteps. “Leandro!”
When I turn, I’m met with what I least suspect.
“Oh my God, no. Not another!” A slim woman in make-shift lingerie slaps her hands to her sides like an angry child. “God-dammit!” She runs up the stairs without so much as acknowledging me and begins slamming on the concrete door. The sound barely carries past the quiet thumps of her fists. “Leandro!”
Her voice is piercing, though.
I delicately slip past her and down the stairs. My jaw hangs open when I notice a lavish, fluffy white couch, off-white tile floors, and beautiful modern décor perfectly placed throughout the room. It’s a palace.
When I make it to the foot of the stairs, there are three sets of eyes on me, one of which is familiar. A woman with blonde silky hair, large breasts, and big hoop earrings stands there continuously wiping a dish – her expression slowly changing as she realizes who I am.
Do I look that different?
“Alessia?” she says, nearly dropping the plate.
“Gabby?” My eyes brighten. I walk over to embrace her for a hug, but a tall woman steps in front of me with her hand held out.
“Back up, sweetie,” she says. “New bitch cleans the toilets, first thing.”
My mind is spinning once again. My first thousand thoughts were torture chambers from the Saw movies, only to be surprised with an underground mansion. Now… some bitch is trying to control my life? I don’t think so.
I may fold for hitmen and pathetic ex-husbands, but one thing I’m not afraid of, is a bullying bitch.
“Fuck off.” I slap her hand out of my way and push past her to embrace my old friend. The woman stands there, stunned, and I can feel her eyes boring into my back. But in this moment, I don’t care. “Gabby, oh my God.” Her arms and perfume are familiar. I’m shocked she’s so well kept being in a basement in the middle of nowhere. “What the hell is this place? Are you okay?”
She looks at me with glassy eyes, and I know she’s experiencing the same phenomenon I am. Our past lives are flashing to the forefront. We were so young and carefree seven years ago. Giggling over book boyfriends and talking about which one of our boys would be the first to propose.
“I’m okay, I think.” She shrugs.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, shifting to make sure that tall woman isn’t going to stab me in the back.
“Three-hundred seventy-eight days,” a woman filing her nails on the couch calls out. She has long wavy hair cascading down one shoulder, and narrowed, unamused eyes. “I’ve been here the longest. Four hundred and two days.”
The woman in lingerie stomps down to join us, her bobbed hair bouncing as her high-heels clack for attention. “What the hell?” She stares at me. “I’ve been waiting two days for him.”
I look at Gabby for some context.
“Anabel has been here two-hundred-twenty days.” The woman on the couch is still unamused. “But she’s undoubtedly the craziest.”
“Shut up, Maria.” Anabel takes off a heel and threatens to throw it at her.
My eyes flick to the tall woman.
Gabby, Anabel, Maria… that makes her Jane. The one whose job I’m supposed to take. Great.
“You must be Jane,” I say.
The tall woman’s expression hardens. “He told you about us? On the first day?”
I curl closer next to Gabby. “Is this a fucking harem, like in those books?”
Gabby laughs, breaking some of the tension. “No, no. Leandro won’t touch any of us. Maria is convinced he’s been castrated. Anabel, clearly, is not.”
“If I don’t fuck something soon, I’m going to turn into a lesbian, and I’m forcing one of you with me.” She eyes me, then scoffs. “Maybe after a shower and some make-up. And what the hell is up with that hair?”
Heat fills my face. “I was in witness protection. It’s not easy.”
