When we get to the table, I find that Ben Jacobs is in his mid-forties and suspiciously handsome. “Greg,” he says, shaking the guard’s hand. He casually pulls a chair out next to his, and I sit.
“You are more beautiful than Henry gave you credit for,” Ben says, kissing my cheek.
“Thank you,” I say softly as he sits back in his seat.
“Henry couldn’t make it, so he sent his watchdog?” Ben asks the guard, who I guess is named Greg.
“He had business to attend to,” Greg says simply. “Talia had a bit of an incident before arriving, so he has some staff to reprimand.”
“Ah, I see,” Ben says, studying me. “What incident might this be?”
“Are you asking me?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle.
“I am,” he says. “Does it have anything to do with that scarf?”
“Yes, Sir,” I say. “I… tried to kill myself.”
“Hmm,” Ben says, still studying me. I say nothing, because the last thing I want to do is fuck this up. I don’t want to go back to Henry. I can’t. I won’t. I simply will not go back. I don’t care what I have to do; I will not go back to him. I will pretend to be a happy little housewife if it means I never have to see Henry again. “Tell me about yourself, Talia.”
“Uh…” I say, looking at Greg. What kind of fucking question is that? Who questions their toys before fucking them? Ben grabs my chin and turns my face to look at him.
“Look at me when I speak to you,” he says. “Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. “I don’t have family or friends, if that’s what you mean.”
“Partly,” he says. “Are you educated?”
“Y-Yes, Sir,” I stammer. “I have a bachelor’s in business administration.”
“Why not your master’s?”
“There wasn’t time for classes between getting raped in a hotel room,” I spit back, instantly regretting my attitude. “I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…”
“How long have you been with Henry?” he asks.
“Six months.”
“Before?”
“Uh… I lived with my dad… He owed Henry money, so…”
“You’re lucky that you’re pretty, Talia,” he says, cupping my face as the server comes to the table. “We won’t be staying for dinner.”
Shit… Henry is going to fucking kill me…
“Yes, Sir,” the server says before walking away.
“Should I tell Henry you will be in touch to find another wife?” Greg asks as Ben holds my gaze.
“No,” Ben says with a smirk. “Tell him the transfer will be sent as soon as I get her back to my room.”
“Alright,” Greg says. “Well, if I am done here…”
“You are,” Ben says, standing and offering me his hand. I gently place my trembling hand into his, and he stands me up. Without another word, Ben leads me out of the restaurant and to the elevator.
I am trying to hold back my tears, but one gently rolls down my cheek. Ben lifts my chin and unwraps the scarf to see thebruising. “Can you do as you are told, or will I need to tie you to my bed?” he asks simply.
“I’ll listen…”
