“I’ve been busy.” Busy making it clear to her that I call the shots. “She has Lucy for company.”
“And you forbade Lucy from talking to her. From looking at her, even.”
“Yeah,” I growl. “Because she’s mine.”
He hisses in frustration. “So you don’t even care that I stood up for you? My loyalty means nothing?”
He’s got me there. There’s nothing more important than loyalty, and I need to reward him. I hesitate, searching for a bone to throw him without ceding entirely.
“Fine, go ahead and spoil her. Bring over your coach, have her work out a bit. There’s a small workout space on the fourth floor with a connecting door to her apartment. It’s locked right now, but…”
I pause as I note his sarcastic expression.
“How generous,” he smirks, “to give her the means to keep upher appearance for you.”
I glare at him. “I don’t need her to keep up a thing. But I guess it’s not too healthy for her to sit around, long-term.”
“Long term,” he echoes. “How long are you planning to keep her?”
Forever. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine,” he snaps, turning around. “Even though I don’t exactly call it spoiling her. But whatever.”
That’s right. No one is allowed to spoil her except me.
And I have no intention of doing that anyway. I’m more interested in… hurting her.
My cock hardens as I think of what’s in store for my little pet. I quickly make my way to my apartment so I can take care of my needs, my eyes still glued to the screen.
What a sick bastard I am.
11
Seraphina
Isit on the couch, staring at the familiar blank space of wall.
That’s pretty much all I do these days. I get dressed according to Damien’s scribbled-down instructions, and then stare at the blank space, and watch what isn’t on it.
There’s no shadow on this wall, no stain. Nothing to mar its perfectly smooth whiteness.
Not like the humidity stain on my childhood bedroom ceiling, the one that I once imagined looked like a polar bear. A polar bear, with its furry, icy paws drawn around me, warming me, protecting me.
That polar bear soothed me when I was a little girl. But by the time I said goodbye to my childhood home for good, it had been a long time since I’d seen anything in it but an ugly, dirty stain.
When I sit here, on this couch, my eyes glued to that white wall, I hunt for the spot that isn’t. There’s no reflection in this pristine apartment to match the stain inside me. A numbing sensation washes over me as I stare at it, a cold veil that makes the solitude and the time easier to bear.
But sometimes it gets to be too much, and that’s when I head over to the balcony, past the potted plants, and tip over the railing, imagining myself falling into nothingness.
The thrill I feel then is indescribable.
-
Today marks two weeks since I was brought to this apartment. Three weeks since my captivity began. I wouldn’t have thought fourteen days of solitude in a luxury apartment could have compared to the week in the cell, but the weight sometimes feels crushing. At least the cell looked like prison. This apartment sometimes manages to trick me into believing I’m free, and the fall to reality is that much harder to bear.
So when I hear the key in the lock at eleven a.m. on the dot, I stand up, my heart hammering. It’s not time for the quiet woman to come. She’s more regular than the perfectly regular clock on the mantelpiece. Could it be…?
But no. The door opens onto the saccharine plastic doll, Everest, and my heart sinks.
