Lucy’s still looking a little nervous.
“I realize this might sound like a demotion,” I add quietly. “Asking you to clean and prepare food. Obviously, you’re still a trusted and valued member of our team. In fact, I’ll give you a raise. Both for the added workload, and… your discretion.”
Her nervous look doesn’t go away, but I can’t read her. I drum my fingers impatiently on my knee. This is really starting to tick me off. I’m the boss. I’ve voiced things politely, but it’s not a request. It’s an order. Since when are my words not taken seriously? What’s going on this year? First Vale, then Lucy. My authority is constantly getting undermined.
“Sorry, boss,” she says quickly, apparently noticing my changing mood. “Whatever you say, of course. I was just wondering if she’ll see me.”
I shrug. “I guess. I don’t see how else you’d bring her food and necessities. And you’ll have to clean the apartment once a day. Does it matter?”
“No, not at all.” She gives me a tight smile and walks away.
It occurs to me after she leaves that her question was a bit odd. But I have a lot of work to do, and besides, I want to look at my pet.
I bring up the feed and can’t help but smile when I see she’s fallen asleep on the living room rug, curled up in a little ball. Shehasn’t even tried to open up the doors to the other rooms. Maybe she doesn’t think she can. Maybe even the living room feels too big for her after her week in the cell.
The smile turns to a scowl. I hate them for what they’ve forced me to do. But I hate myself even more for giving in to the pressure. Though I know I did it to protect her, the truth is I shouldn’t have to. If I were strong enough, my authority wouldn’t even be in question. Claiming her would be enough to get them to back off.
Instead, I feel weak. Helpless. The cracks in Devil are showing, and ugliness is creeping in.
7
Seraphina
It takes me a moment to drag my eyes away from the closed door and take in my new surroundings. When I do, my jaw drops open.
I never knew a place like this could exist. Shelves lined with leather-bound books. A massive brick fireplace with a flat-screen balanced on top, ringed by couches. On the other side, I see a longwhite table with plush chairs. Opposite the door, sliding glass doors open onto a balcony, chairs arranged neatly among more potted plants than I’ve ever seen in my life.
This can’t be where I’m meant to stay, can it? There must be some mistake.
Then I realize there’s no bed, only white sofas, sleek and strange, and clean, far too clean. My clothes might stain them. In spite of the daily washes and changes of clothes, I’m filthy from having spent my time lying down on the damp floor of the cell.
And I don’t want Damien to be angry at me.
I wish I’d said something. Anything to get him to stay, to get those hands to touch me again. The shame I felt before has evaporated during the week in the cell. My mind has gone on mute, while my body practically aches with the need to inhale that cologne, feel the warmth of his chest against my cheek, his fingers in my hair and on my back.
Seriously, what is wrong with me? I thought I was stronger than this. One week of being locked in a cell is all it took for me to become obsessed with my kidnapper.
And now, he’s gone. I don’t know if I could have kept him here with words, but it’s too late to wonder.
The carpet looks like a safe bet for finishing my night. It has a busy pattern, so if I stain it, no one will notice. Hopefully.
I lie down on it and am surprised to discover how tired I am. I wouldn’t have thought I could possibly sleep after spending so much time confined to the cell, sleeping away the days.
I roll into the smallest ball I can. For the first time since I’ve been in Devil Tower, I sleep soundly. And still, the old nightmares stay away.
-
The sound of a door opening startles me awake. The light is streaming in from the windows, and I jump up, embarrassed to be sleeping so late. It takes me a moment to understand where I am. The luxurious couches, the thick cream curtains over the windows, the balcony crowded with potted plants… And a tiny light blinking red in the corner of the ceiling.
I stare up at it. It’s barely noticeable, but I’m a seasoned shoplifter. It’s the first thing I see.
My stomach twinges as I wonder if Damien is watching me. Now that I’ve had a night of real sleep, old conflicted feelings surge up in me. I may be in a nicer place, but I’m still a captive. And Damien Wells is the one who owns me.
Nonetheless, I turn around, hoping he’s the one who opened the door, wanting to feel once more the touch of the hands that soothe me so well… even as my mind, awake once more, screams at me to beware.
But it’s not him. It’s the Ken doll, Everest Grant.
Suddenly, I remember Damien mentioning he’d send him to me. I feel a wave of bitterness rise up in me. He doesn’t want to bother himself with me, so he sends his minion to look after me in his place.
