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“It wasn’t intended to sound comforting.”
Without another word, he locked the cabinet again. As he bent, the light caught the notch in his left ear. Up close, I could see that it wasn’t a small imperfection from some bar fight. A thin white scar extended behind it, disappearing into his close-cropped hair.
He straightened and found me watching.
“This way,” he directed.
He led me through a living room furnished in shades of charcoal, cream, and dark brown. There were books on the shelves, but no stacks. Art hung on the walls, but there were no sentimental pictures of any kind. A single glass sat beside one leather chair, turned upside down on a coaster as if dust personally offended it.
He took me upstairs, and I saw that the guest room had already been prepared for me. There were clothes in the closet. Dark jeans, soft sweaters, a black dress, two pairs of shoes, and a heavy coat in my size. Toiletries filled the bathroom shelves. My preferred brand of shampoo stood beside the shower.
I picked up the bottle. “How do you know what I use?”
“Nocturne keeps product records for the dressing rooms.”
“That’s deeply creepy.”
“It’s just inventory.”
A small white card rested on the dresser.
We guessed on everything. Keep what you like. Blame Sergei for the rest.
—Riley, Amy, Sloane & Kit
Somewhere in Boston, four women I had never met had apparently spent part of their night gathering emergency clothes for a mob princess they didn’t know, which was absurd.
Beside the wardrobe sat a black leather bag labeled with my name. Inside were jeans, a shirt, underwear, socks, water, cash, a first-aid kit, a burner phone, and flat shoes.
I looked at Sergei. “You made me a go-bag.”
“I made you two.”
He touched a hidden latch inside the wardrobe. A narrow panel opened, revealing another bag and a steel door set into the wall.
“This is a secondary exit,” he said. “It leads through the adjoining building and into the rear alley. I have placed guards at every access point around the building. You will be kept safe.”
I stared at him. “This is a beautiful cage.”
“A cage keeps something in.” His expression hardened slightly. “My perimeter keeps threats out.”
“The difference depends on who controls the locks on the door.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Sergei reached past me and pressed a small button beside the hidden passage. The locks disengaged with a soft mechanical sound.
“You control this door from the inside,” he said. “The front door opens too, but the alarms will notify me if you use either one.”
“So you can chase me again?”
“So I can reach you before someone else does.” He closed the panel and handed me the burner phone. “The evidence you need to see will be ready in the morning. I will show you the men who came for you, and then tomorrow night, we will discuss your attempt to run.”
“You mean you lecture me.”
“No. That is not what I mean.”
His gaze drifted slowly down the length of me, pausing at the robe and the crystal-covered costume beneath it.
“I mean we discuss how hard your spanking needs to be before you stop mistaking danger for freedom.”
