There’s no urgency in his touch. No brutality. His fingers gently weave with mine and he helps me up. I don’t stand for long. Bending down, he sneaks one arm under my knees, the other around my back, and scoops me into his arms, bridal style.
“You,” he barks at a man to our left. “Cover her up.”
The man drops his whip, tearing his suit jacket off. He drapes it over me, bowing his head low.
I hardly breathe, pulling in scraps of air because every deep breath sends a wave of pain screaming along my ribs. Once the jacket is tucked under me, covering everything I don’t want to show, the boss starts walking.
Desmond herds the girls into the corner, out of our path, his arms outstretched to grab any who might dare run. I lock eyes with the violet-haired girl, wishing I could do something.Anything to help her. Helpthem. They’re not escaping this fate. They’ll end up under the rug, crawling, crying... gagging.
Nausea twists my insides, intensifying further when she offers me a small, reassuring smile. She wasjustraped but here she is, helping me along. Where does she get her strength from?
“Look at you,” the boss tuts, exiting the ballroom. Two men in black sunglasses trail behind us like bodyguards, staring straight ahead. “You’re shaking. It’s okay. No one will hurt you again. You have my word.”
The rational part of me knows I can’t trust him, but there’s a small, desperate part, the one seeking safety, that swells with hope. I don’t risk saying a word as his bodyguard steps forward, opening another door halfway down the hall.
Instead of being flung to the ground like Jonathan’s daughter was, I’m set down carefully, and the boss makes sure I hold my weight before he gives me space.
This plush-carpeted room isn’t the same one I’ve been locked in for the last four days. There’s only one bed, covered in fluffy pillows, the white sheets crispy clean. The sunset spills through a large bay window, bathing the small reading nook on my left: a single armchair and hundreds of books I could lose myself in under different circumstances.
“Where are your clothes?” the boss asks.
“Um... I don’t have anything other than what I arrived in.”
He squeezes the bridge of his nose, pushing out an exasperated breath. “Fucking dimwits. Rex, fetch something comfortable from the East Wing.” He looks over his shoulder, giving me a quick once-over that lacks any sexual innuendo. “The smallest size you can find.”
Rex nods, marching out the door, every move stiff, as if he’s the Terminator himself.
The boss turns back to me, his features softening. “We’ll get you out of this lace soon. You must be freezing.” He gently sitsme on the bed and covers me up better with the black, oversized jacket. “No more tears,” he adds, swiping his thumbs under my eyes. “I gave you my word, remember?”
A tight nod is my only answer, my vocal cords tangled like the ivy hanging outside the window. I don’t trust myself not to break down into ugly cries the second I part my lips. My heart’s still fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings and I’m so fucking confused my head’s spinning.
Why is he so nice?
Because he wants the evidence.
“Terrence, get the cook to prepare a light meal. Soup and a cup of tea would be best. And send one of the maids up. I don’t think she’ll be able to dress herself.”
“I will,” I croak, panic slicing through me at the thought of anyone else putting their hands on my naked body.
Terrence marches out, closing the door behind him. I’m alone, locked in here with the boss, who spins on the heel of his elegant leather boot, eyes boring into mine.
I’m waiting for the curtain to drop and his temper to make an appearance. I’m waiting for pain, curses, demands, but—again—nothing happens.
If this is some elaborate way of fucking with my head, it’s working.
“How about a doctor? Have I arrived in time, or were they already on round two?”
Roundtwo? They make them dive under the rugtwice?
“That terrified look on your face tells me you didn’t know about round two, but I still need to know if anyone’s touched you since you arrived here.”
“Other than the dead man?” I whisper, staring at my fingernails. “No.”
“I see Darius deserved more than one bullet.” He crosses the room, taking a seat in the armchair. “My name’s Blaze Noretto. Do you know where you are, Hailey?”
“Somewhere in Pennsylvania?”
“That’s correct. And do you know why you’re here?”
