My eyes focus on the email string between Morello and me once again.
When my supplier told me he found the exact type of girl I wanted, I demanded a picture, something I've never done before. In the past I liked to be surprised besides knowing their measurements, so that I can order accurate clothing sizes. But I always preferred to see their face for the first time in person. It heightened my anticipation and hunger.
But with this girl,Number Seven…I wanted --- no, Ineededto see her as soon as possible.
It took Morello almost eight hours before he responded to my request, and I honestly thought the anticipation would kill me.
When I pull up the picture he attached to the email for what feels like the thousandth time today, I suppress a moan in the back of my throat. He finally found me exactly what I wanted --- a dark-haired beauty with light green eyes. All the girls in the past haven't been to my specifications, but my suppliers tried. Oh, they've all tried.
I request brunettes with light eyes because I want the exact opposite of my mother. I don't want to be reminded of her in any way, shape or form. All the girls in the past have been blondes. Not the particular shade of dirty blonde my mother was, thankfully.
I study the girl's picture closely and can't help but feel a sense of apprehension. She looks…happy. So much unlike the other girls in the past, although I never asked for a picture to be sent before.
The others had been poor, needing and craving the money and luxuries I gave them.
This girl is on the beach, her long tanned legs stretched out before her on the sand. Her long, dark hair cascades around her shoulders in soft waves, and she's smiling a flawless smile with straight, white teeth.
She doesn't look like someone I would expect to need money. In fact, she looks like the exact opposite.
My thumb brushes against her full, glossy lips, and then I curse as I realize I probably left a smudge on my screen with my carelessness. Quickly, I reach into the top drawer and bring out a cleaner and wipes. I spend several minutes cleaning my computer screen, making sure my thumbprint is gone, before I put everything away and stare at her beautiful face once more.
Maybe I'm reading too much into the picture. It's not like I saw her predecessors in their before state. Perhaps this was just one great day out of her usually miserable life. Yes, that must be it.
I can't help but wonder what condition she'll be in when she gets here. All six of the previous girls have come in here dirty and damaged, roughed up by their handlers, against my wishes, of course. But I have to admit that part of the fun for me was returning them to prestige condition before I took what I paid for.
I need complete and utter perfection before I lay a finger on them.
And I won't settle for anything less when this girl comes under my ownership…even if her beauty most likely will disarm me.
No.
She will be exactly what I crave and precisely what I need.
She will be absolutelyperfect.
CHAPTER 6
ADELINE
I WAKE UP slowly, my head throbbing with a tremendous pounding that feels like someone knocking on the side of my temple with a hammer. Groaning, it takes me a few times to be able to sit up. It takes even longer until I'm able to open my eyes. And when I do, I just want to close them again.
I don't know where I am.
The room is dark except for the moonlight shining through two skylights in the ceiling. The realization that I'm lying in someone else's bed in a strange room hits me hard. I press my fingertips to the pounding on my head and feel crusted blood matted with my knotted hair.
What happened to me?
I think back to the last thing I can remember, and the horrible flashes of memory come back to me all at once. Giovanni and I were on a date. We left the restaurant. We were walking…we were lost…and then a group of men tried to rob us…the gunman grabbed me...and then I must have blacked out. I'm trying to remember what happened after that, but I'm drawing a blank.
The harder I try to think, the more pronounced the fierce pounding becomes. I cry out in pain and grip the sides of my head.
When the pounding settles to a dull ache, I decide to find out where I am. Did Giovanni save me from the gunman and take me to a friend's house or something to recover? That's the only plausible thing I can come up with at this moment.
Pulling back the blankets, I realize that I'm no longer wearing the little black dress that I had spent hours picking out before our date. I'm wearing some type of thin cotton gown with no underwear under it. Who the hell undressed me?
Panic starts to rise in my chest as flashbacks of sensations begin to bombard my overwhelmed mind. I remember someone poking me with a needle and the sense of feeling like I was flying and falling.
I fumble in the almost pitch-black room and manage to find a table beside the bed. My fingers land on a solid object, and I squint in the darkness trying to figure out what I'm touching. When I realize it's a small lamp, I search for a switch, finding one after what feels like forever.
