I approach the lingerie with the tiniest of steps. I lift the panties. They’re so small, they can’t even be called underwear. “F-Fuck.”
Thoughts twist through me like fire. Adriano might not murder me in lingerie, but I don’t think my virginity isn’t going to last the night.
Are they still going to make me choose between them? Who should I pick? I’ve had days to think about their offers and I still don’t know. Eli will get bored of me in a month, and I obviously won’t pick Adriano killing me. The smartest choice would be to marry Bobby, but he killed Kurt. If he did worse things once I was his wife, I’d only have myself to blame. Choosing Doc and working in his strip clubs seems like the easiest way to find or buy a phone and call my family. But it also seems like the fastest way to spend time with Doc who is the meanestandcarries a knifeandspat in my face—
There’s a loud knock on the door. “Miss Whitehall. Shower.”
I jump. “Yes, sorry.”
My hands shake under the hot water. I don’t want to lose my virginity. Without it, the force field against the men who brought me here will be gone. I won’t be worth protecting. And Adriano told me that once his brothers slept with me, he’d kill me.
Actually, he said once they’re bored with me, he’d kill me. Maybe I can entertain them? But how am I supposed to entertain three dangerous men, one of whom owns strip clubs? I don’t know anything about sex. And once the novelty of being my first is gone…
Then I can’t lose my virginity. I’ll just have to do whatever it takes to stay untouched.
Another knock on the door. “Get moving, Miss Whitehall.”
I frown. For saying I could take all the time I needed, Mr. Gretzky seems impatient. I turn off the shower and wrap a big towel around myself. There are more things in the bathroom cabinet than usual, a tiny bottle of vanilla perfume, a row of Dior lipsticks, and a Yves Saint Laurent eye shadow palette.
I knock on the door. “Mr. Gretzky… am I supposed to put on makeup?”
There is a pause and I’m sure I hear him swear. “Yes, Miss Whitehall.”
I feel bad for him. Whatever his normal job is, he really hates dealing with me. I learned a lot about that from Theodore and Kurt.
Kurt… I picture his body, blank-faced and bloody on the plastic tarp. Whatever happens, I will not lose my virginity to Bobby. It doesn’t matter that Kurt was creepy and bad at his job and sold me out to Eli. He didn’t deserve to die. But then I think of Bobby kissing me in my cage, his arms around me. I think of the way he looked at me when he talked about us living together. “Stop it,” I tell myself. “Just stop.”
I’m not very good at makeup. I wasn’t allowed to wear any to school, and it was done for me when our family went to events. I also have no idea who I’m dressing up for and I’m sure they’d all like something different. Bobby definitely likes the ‘girl next door’ look. Doc would want glossy lips and contouring. Eli seems like a guy who’d appreciate glamor—red lips, and fake lashes. Adriano…
I remember him staring at me through my cage, the lamplight carving shadows into his scarred face.You’re not worth raping.The mascara I’m holding skitters out of my hand and onto the tiles.
“Miss Whitehall?”
“Coming,” I yell, my voice much higher than usual.
I try for subtle, tiny dabs of foundation and peachy eye shadow like I had at my wedding. At the last minute, I add glossy lips and lots of mascara. I don’t know if it looks good or like a little girl raided her mom’s makeup bag, but you can tell I tried.
I walk over to the lingerie. I’ve been avoiding looking at it until now. I pull everything on with my back to the mirror. It takes ages to attach the straps hanging from the pink belt to my stockings. As soon as I get one on, another pops off.
Mr. Gretzky knocks on the door. “We need to get moving.”
I manage to attach the last clip then glance at the mirror. My mouth falls open. I look… I don’t knowhowI look. The bright pink bra and panties bring out the ivory notes of my skin. You can see my nipples through the sheer material and the line of my… down there. But it doesn’t look tacky, it looks subtle and kind of pretty.
Whoever picked out the underwear has great taste.
I pile my hair onto my head and turn, studying the lines of my body. Grown-up. That’s how I look. Grown-up and sexy. I shake my ass in the mirror and smile. What are the guys going to say when they…
I wince. What is wrong with me? This isn’t a game. This is my life. What happens when I leave this room decides my future and I’m prancing around in my underwear like a moron. Doc’s right. I’m like a Disney girl, rebelling against her stage mom. I release my hair and vow to stay focused.
My St. Christopher medallion is beside the sink. I pick it up, ready to slide it into my bra cup but realize everyone will be able to see it. I can’t leave it here and I wouldn’t put it on Bobby’s chain even if I had it on me.
A hard rap on the door. “Miss Whitehall, we’re done.”
I look at the medallion and for a crazy second, I think about swallowing it. Then I shove it into the side of my bra. There’s a risk whoever I’m meeting will see it and take it from me, but I’m not going anywhere without it. “Coming!”
I wrap my arms around my body to try and cover myself from Mr. Gretzky.
He barely glances at me. “About time.” He grabs my elbow and leads me to another set of hardwood stairs.
