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“I should be back sometime tomorrow,” Rafe tells me. “Like I said, if you need anything—within reason—just ask Vladimir.”
“Can he take me out?” I try, though I know the answer.
“To do what?”
“Get frozen yogurt.”
“No. You stay on the property. But you can send him out to get whatever you want.”
What I want is my freedom. Anything else feels like a joke.
“You want frozen yogurt?” Rafe asks.
“Not really. I’d rather have a t-shirt and some sweatpants. These clothes are nice, but they’retoonice. I’m worried I’m going to get them stained or caught on something.”
“No one else is going to wear them.”
“Oh.” He bought clothes just for a dead woman walking to wear?
“Anything else?”
“I was just kidding about the t-shirt and sweatpants. I just want to be able to reach my brother. I can only do so much stuck here in your place. If you let me go, I would help you find the Morelli. Honest I would. I want to know what happened to the painting, too. I wouldn’t ditch you or anything because I know your people would probably find me and...I wouldn’t cross you.”
There’s silence on the other end, and I wish we were on a video call so that I could see his reaction.
Finally, Rafe says, “Put Vladimir back on the line.”
Vladimir takes the phone and walks away. I can’t hear what Rafe is telling him and all Vladimir says is “yes, Boss” or “okay, Boss” before hanging up.
“What did he say?” I ask.
Vladimir looks at me and says nothing before walking out of the room.
I slump in my chair and stare at all the beautiful plates of food. Suddenly, I feel like hurling all of them against the wall. What does it matter if it upsets Rafe? He’s going to have me killed anyway if the Morelli doesn’t show up.
But if I made a mess, I’d have to clean it up. I wouldn’t let someone else do it.
Sitting up, I drop my head to the table. I want to cry.Peter, why won’t you call me?
But if I start to cry, I might head down the path to depression. I can’t go there yet. Not while I still have a chance of getting out of this.
Why did Rafe call me, anyway? Was he checking in on me? What for?
With nothing to do, I turn in early. But it takes me a while to fall asleep because I can’t stop fretting over why Peter wouldn’t try calling me if the hotel gave him the message that I was trying to reach him. Maybe the hotel didn’t try hard enough. Did they give him a handwritten note? Did they just leave a voicemail that maybe Peter didn’t check?
I should have asked Rafe for more details. I can’t wait for him to come back.
He returns easily enough in my dreams. We’re back in his torture chamber. I’m stretched naked on his rack. I’m glad to be lying down instead of standing but change my mind when Rafe approaches holding a candle.
He hovers the candle over me, over my breasts, my belly, my groin. I see the shimmer of liquid wax beneath the flame, ready to spill over. He tilts the candle over my breast.
I scream before the hot wax even hits me. It burns. He takes one of my nipples into his mouth and sucks, making me moan and squirm. Desire teases me between the legs. As he licks and sucks the nipple, he drops a dollop of wax on the other breast. I gasp and writhe, causing him to tug harder on my nipple.
Releasing my nipple, he spills wax over my belly. I yelp. I can’t escape. I’m his to use however he wishes. And that’s what I want. I want him to use me.
Sliding his hand between my thighs, he rubs me, working me till I’m a wet mess down there. He drops wax onto my mound. I hope it won’t be hard to get the wax out of my pubic hair later on. His gaze meets mine. My ardor flares.
“Thank me,” he says.
