The aroma of food hits me, and my stomach growls right on cue. On the bed is a lap tray with a covered dish and two cups filled with what looks like water and orange juice. As I approach the four poster king-sized bed I take notice that the bed was meticulously made while I was in the shower, and it smells as if the sheets and comforter have been freshly laundered.
I wonder if Lucien made the bed and changed the sheets or if he has staff here. The prospect of other people being here lifts my spirits. Maybe if I explain my situation, they would help me.
Needing to get out of this towel and into clothes, I turn around and search the room for a dresser or something that would contain clothes for me to change into. The only furniture in the room is the bed, a small table with a lamp and a few occasional chairs in the corners.
When I turn back to the bathroom, that's when I notice another door to the right. It looks like it might be a closet, and so I go to it, hoping for the best. I turn the handle and pull the door open. A light instantly flickers on above me, illuminating a walk-in closet filled with racks and racks of clothes, mostly dresses, and shelves filled with shoes.
I pull open some of the drawers under the shelves and am happy to see underwear, although it looks more like lingerie. I rummage through the thongs and underwear and pull out a lacey pair of black panties. I read the tag and am amazed that it's my size. Curious, I pull out another pair and then another and then another, reading the tags as I go. Sure enough, they're all the same.
Feeling a sense of panic, I begin to hunt through the dresses hanging above. Tag after tag after tag all show size seven.
My exact size.
It's as if everything was all planned for me to come here. I slowly come to the realization that this is so much more than a kidnapping for ransom, and it might not even involve my father at all. I was kidnapped for a different reason entirely.
The blood in my veins turns to ice as my fears are confirmed.
Lucien is planning to keep me here…for a while.
CHAPTER 8
LUCIEN
I SIT IN front of the computer in my office still feeling apprehensive from the turn of events that have taken place since my newest purchase arrived three days ago. Number Seven had seemed to not understand where she was or why she was here. Now, granted, she looked like she had a nasty bump to the head, which Jackson had noted might have resulted in a concussion and loss of consciousness. Also, she was drugged, as they all are, before being brought here. But her confusion and the terror I saw in her eyes still have me perplexed, because it all seemed soreal.
And when I'd mentioned her handler, her expression told me nothing but pure and utter bewilderment. Does she truly not know why she's here and what I want from her, or is this simply all an act?
It wouldn't be the first time a girl tried to change her mind.
But I can't remember ever wanting one so much that I desperately didn't want her to.
Sighing, my eyes flit to the wide computer screen in front of me that is currently displaying multi-camera angles of Seven's quarters. Before I even brought the first girl in, I had cameras installed in that specific bedroom. Like watching a science experiment, I study their reactions, their moods, the way they talk and act when I'm there versus when I'm not. Every girl has behaved in the same manner, had the same responses and actions. It's almost like it's the same girl every time, just a different name.
For the most part, their initial reaction is to get in the shower, at my suggestion, and then get dressed and wait. They sleep and eat and interact with the staff and wait for me to return, to explain what's going to happen and when it's going to happen.
I do not communicate with the women after the initial introduction for a period of three days. It's not because I want them to go crazy with anticipation or worry. On the contrary, I would love to take what I paid for on the first night and send them on their way. But there is the matter of tests that must be done. Every girl is subject to a thorough screening for drugs, STDs and communicable diseases before I will ever lay a finger on them.
Jackson draws blood from the women the moment they arrive on my property. And then it takes him three days to take the tests to a private lab and come back to me with the results.
And so, during my three-day wait, I sit back and bide my time by watching my purchases, studying them and thinking about the moment I'm going to take what's mine.
All of my prior experiences have been exactly the same, and I've come to expect every single reaction…except for now.
As I watched Seven that first night, I noticed small idiosyncrasies and differences between her and the others. The time she spent in the shower was mesmerizing and hypnotic, the way she washed her hair and body over and over and over, getting as clean as possible.
Her predecessors showered, but they never took any special or extra care in doing so. They were in there for twenty minutes tops.
Number Seven showered for exactly two hours and forty-seven minutes, and I was glued to the monitor for the entire time, hardly blinking and not able to tear myself away from the image of her perfect body.
And knowing how clean she was when she emerged from the bathroom made me want to rush in there and take her at that very moment. Fuck my rules, fuck the test results.
I fucking wanted her.
Consequently, I have spent the past three days agonizing and locking myself in my office so that I wouldn't go to her. I've never wanted any of the other women as much as I want this girl. I like to think that having a picture of her ahead of time caused a buildup of almost excruciating anticipation, but I don't know if that's truly the real reason.
She's different. I can sense it already.
When Jackson finally returned with the blood test results this morning, I felt relieved but also anxious. Even when he assured me everything was normal, I still read the tests over and over again, memorizing every word.
