“I’m sorry,” I repeat quietly. I force myself up and start scrubbing my body. I’m naked, which means he probably fucked me before I woke. Someone did, because my belly aches.
When he thinks that I’m clean enough, Henry shuts the water off and pulls me out of the shower. He starts drying my body, but it’s not out of kindness. He’s not taking care of me; he’s protecting his money.
I don’t know why I assumed I would be able to get away with killing myself, because I know he has cameras in my room. He probably expected me to do something like this. I should have fucking known better. Now if this guy doesn’t buy me, I’m going to get whipped and rebroken.
I am numb as he dresses me and dries my hair. He ensures there isn’t a hair out of place when he steps back to inspect me. “It will have to do,” he says as he wraps a scarf around my neck. Turning me to face the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. I am wearing a gorgeous silver sequin dress. My tits look phenomenal, and I am flawless with the bruises wrapped around my throat covered. My long, strawberry blonde hair is falling in gorgeous curlsover my shoulder and down my back. He applied my makeup exceptionally well, proving that he has to maintain control of everything. He is rarely the one to get any of the girls ready, but he does if his payout is large enough.
“Now then,” he says, sweeping my hair off my shoulder. “You are expected to keep your pretty fucking mouth shut and smile when you are told to. If he tells you to crawl under that table and suck his cock, you better fucking do it. If he takes you back to his room and shares you with ten men, you better fucking bend over and take every goddamn cock. If he sends you back to me and I don’t get paid, I will keep you for myself. Do I make myself clear, Talia?”
“Yes, Master,” I say softly. The last thing I want is to have to marry the devil himself.
“You are worth too much money to be rejected so many times,” he says before kissing my cheek. “You are lucky that your tight little cunt pays well.”
“The luckiest,” I deadpan. He grits his teeth and looks like he wants to slam my face into the mirror, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shoves me toward the bathroom door, and I stumble into the room. Waiting at the door is one of the guards. I have never learned their names because they are either staring at me with a deadpan expression or moaning as they rape me. One of them cried the first time he fucked me, and Henry shot him while he was still balls deep in my ass, mid orgasm.
Ah, the memories…
I step into heels and grab the matching clutch with absolutely nothing in it. It’s just for show, making me look complicit and willing. Henry and the guard walk me down to the elevator, and we step in with a little old lady. She smiles sweetly at me, and I force a smile back. If this poor woman catches wind of anything, they will slit her throat and leave her to bleed out right here.
When we step out, I am led out of the hotel and to a waiting car. “Take her down to The Grand Aurelia,” Henry tells the driver as the guard gets into the backseat with me.
“Yes, Sir,” he grunts, glancing back at me.
“And remember, Ben has requested that no one touch her,” Henry says. “If he doesn’t take her with him, then you can.”
“Oh, he’ll keep her,” the guard chuckles next to me. “See ya later, boss.”
The door shuts, and I sink into my seat a bit as we pull away from the curb. I stare at the door, wondering if I could just jump out. I bet it’s locked, though.
“Want some advice, Talia?” the driver asks.
“Sure,” I say sarcastically.
“Cut next time,” he says, smirking at me in the rearview mirror. “He will just put a bullet in your head to avoid having to take you to the hospital.”
“Good to know,” I mutter.
“Meh. Ben will buy her,” the guard says with a shrug.
“Well, shit. He kills all of his wives when they can’t give him a baby. When do you think he will realize it’s his fault?”
“At least by wife number six,” the guard laughs.
“Let one of his staff fuck you so you can get knocked up,” the driver says to me.
“That freak has cameras everywhere, and they get chained up,” the guard counters.
It’s sick how they are laughing and chatting like they aren’t mocking my survival right now. It’s like it’s a game to them—guess how long I will live.
When the car stops, the guard steps out. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before sliding out. “Run, and I’ll shoot you,” the guard whispers to me.
“Fuck you,” I growl before yanking my arm away and walking into the hotel. He follows behind me, but I just keep walking until we get to the restaurant.
“Do you have a reservation?” the host asks me sweetly.
“Yes, we are meeting Ben Jacobs for dinner,” the guard says with a warm smile.
“Yes, right this way,” she says. We follow her through the restaurant, and no one seems to notice us. That’s how it’s supposed to be, though. I am expected to blend in, shut the fuck up, and spread my legs when I am told to.
