“Let me look into this,” he finally says. “Thank you for updating me. I’m sorry there’s been a change of plans, but I appreciate your attention to this matter. It must’ve slipped my mind.”
I don’t believe him. He’s lying. Thayer is too much of a perfectionist to forget something like this.
They continue their conversation and finally, he says goodbye.
We walk past a room with muffled voices. Another where a warm rush of air, scented like warmed vanilla, kisses my skin before we move past. It seems we’re walking down a hall of sorts.
We come to a stop. I hear a beep as he pushes what must be an elevator button, and seconds later, the rush of opening doors.
“Thayer!”
A woman’s voice makes him stop. I feel him turning around. His grip on me slackens.
“Camille.” I wish I could see his face. His tone is hard to read.
“Howareyou?” she asks.
Camille… oh my God, if that’s themodelCamille…
I can’t be jealous. I shouldn’t be jealous. I need to shut off the part of my brain that’s justifying my jealousy.
Instead of answering, he asks her an odd question. “Why are you out here unescorted? Didn’t they read you the rules?”
“I’m alone,” she says in a breathy whisper.
Oh, ew. Are we playing that game?
“Unescorted.”
“Really.”
“I know,” she says, in a tone that would melt butter, “it’s hard for you to believe that I don’t have an escort, isn’t it? But some of us like being free,” she continues. “And who’s your blindfolded guest? She looks… lovely.”
The tone of her voice says she does not think I look lovely at all. I suddenly remember my tousled hair, the torn and rumpled clothing that’s been through hell and back.
“She’s exactly what you said. My guest.”
“Ah, no name?”
I half expect him to say my name isSlave Xor something.
“If you’ll excuse us, we’ve had a long day and are looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh, of course. Don’t let me be rude and hold you up.” Even blindfolded—maybe especially blindfolded—I note the biting edge to her tone. “Enjoy your evening, both of you.Au revoir!”
Her heels click on the floor as she leaves.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters under his breath. “I am going to kill him. Seriously, kill him.”
Who? What?
I could write a book with the number of questions I have right about now.
I press my lips together and gesture to my lips.
The air’s heavy with foreboding as he draws closer to me.
“Yes,” he snaps. “Still not talking. Go ahead, love. Try me.” My insides clench even as my heart thunders. Dread washes through me when I realize he’s looking for a reason to punish me.
