I know. I’m not. Anyone with eyes can see—
“—that a man would find seductive.”
Wait.
What?
I thought he was going to say I would never be the type to go after another woman’s man like that, butno.
I guess what he finds more striking about me was how—I don’t know—unseductiveI am?
“In any case, the choice on what you wish your future to be is in your hands. We can still offer you a new identity, but you will be alone in your new life. You can also choose to resume the life that you were born with, and we will instead help you to deal with the woman who sold you off.”
There’s only one way to go, isn’t there?
So why am I still hesitating?
I try to think of an answer, but my head throbs the moment I do, and a small cry escapes before I can stop it.
My rescuer frowns. “We’ve been talking too much. You should rest.”
“I—”
“Should simply do as I ask like a good girl.”
My heart does a strange little flip.
Why am I secretly thrilled that he thinks of me as a good girl? Why does that single phrase make warmth bloom in my chest when this man has done nothing but grunt at me and insult my seductiveness and pin me to a car seat like I was a misbehaving child?
You’ve clearly lost your mind, Mirabella de los Reyes.
“If you need anything,” he says, rising from the chair, “just press this button.” He indicates a small panel on the bedside table before turning to go, and my chest feels strangely tight as I watch him walk away.
He is nothing but a stranger to me.
So why do I care that he’s leaving?
Why?
My rescuer’s almost to the door when he pauses, his back still to me as he says—
“You clearly have something on your mind. Speak.”
Questions race through my mind, but with none of them appropriate to eventhinkof, I simply blurt out the first thing that comes to me.
“W-What’s your name?”
Silence.
And then—
“If it turns out you need to know, I’ll tell you.” He still doesn’t turn, but he does glance over his shoulder as he says, “For now, call me whatever you want.”
So if I call himminethen—
“It seems you’ve already thought of a name.”
Heat floods my face, and I find myself clumsily yanking the covers up to my chin before he can see me blushing. “Good night, sir.”
