I lean back against the headboard as soon as Ethan leaves the room, ignoring the food beside me. It’s not that I don’t like breakfast, I just don’t normally eat much in the morning. I finish the toast and coffee at least before wheeling the cart back out into the hallway. I’m careful not to actually leave the room as I push it outside.

Once that’s done, I go into the bathroom and start the shower. It’s a gorgeous bathroom with a full vanity, whirlpool tub, and huge shower. Everything is tiled in beautiful mosaic patterns, and part of me feels like the toilet itself should be solid gold.

It’s not, of course, and I get into the shower to wash myself. I feel like I’m cleaning days’ worth of grime from my body even though I showered the night before, just as the auction was about to begin.

Showers can be hard for me sometimes. It feels good, but it’s strange. I can still remember waking up in a shower, half naked, my body bruised and battered and wondering where the hell I am. That was one of the lowest points in my life when I realized what I did just to score some drugs.

It was when I was lying on the floor of that shower, half conscious of what had happened, that I realized I was at rock bottom. It was the lowest point of my life. And I can’t help but think about it every time I get in the shower.

I’m disgusted by the person I was. I’ve been clean for two years and have no plan to go back, but I still feel that stupid junky deep inside of me, begging to get out.

I made mistakes. I’ve been weak and frail and stupid before. But I pulled myself up off that shower floor, got the fuck out of that house, and checked myself into a rehab treatment facility.

Six months in there and I never looked back. I still owe them, which is actually just one small part of my debt, but it’s one debt that I won’t mind paying off. They saved me there, saved my life, showed me that a life without drugs is the life I want to lead.

I shut off the shower and get out, toweling myself off. I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how I got from the bottom of that shower to this place. I run my fingers over the marble countertop and although I know that I’m just this man’s plaything, I can’t help but imagine that I’m something more.

I can’t let myself indulge in that, though. Ethan doesn’t care about me. He just wants to play a game. He wants me to be his pet and to stay in this room. Sure, he’s spoiling me, but it’s still his game that I have to play. He doesn’t want Aria, he doesn’t want the real me. He would turn and run the second he found out about me.

But maybe I can pretend, at least for a little while. I’ll have to pretend harder than I have been so far. I need this to go well.

Once I’m dry enough, I wrap a towel around me and head back out into the main room. I look around for my bags, but I don’t find them anywhere.

Instead, the drawers have clothes already in them, but they’re not my clothes. There are bras, panties, and some tops and bottoms. In the closet, several dresses hang, and it all looks to be in my size. For a second I panic, afraid that he took away my phone and my things. If I don’t have my phone, I can’t contact The Syndicate, and that would be bad.

But tucked in the back corner of the closet are my bags. I breathe a sigh of relief as I fish out my phone and shoot a text to the number they gave me, just letting them know that I’m fine and taken care of.

When that’s done, I go back into the main room and get dressed. I put on a matching bra and panty set, looking at myself in the mirror. I want to be pleasing to him, so I pick out a cute, revealing top and short little jean shorts.

Once dressed, I stand there and look at the room. The clock next to the bed says that it’s eight in the morning, and I realize that I have all day to kill.

I get my laptop from my bag, but there’s no open WiFi. Nervously, I grab the phone and hit zero before listening to it ring.

“Yes?” It’s Jenkins’s voice from the night before.

“Uh, hi, it’s Aria,” I say.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“I, uh, was wondering if there was a WiFi password?” I ask.

“No internet,” he says.

I pause. “No internet?” I repeat.

“I was instructed to keep you off the internet.”

I frown, disappointed. What the hell am I supposed to do all day then?

“Okay,” I say. “Thank you. Are there any books you could bring up?”

“Of course,” he says. “Will that be all?”

“Uh, yes. Thank you.”

The phone disconnects and I flop back onto the bed.

“No internet,” I groan to myself and roll over onto my side.

Jenkins brings up a box full of books not too long later, but he doesn’t stick around. He simply places the box outside of my door, knocks twice, and then leaves. I pull the box inside and start fishing through it. They’re mostly trashy romances, but that’s good enough.

I spend most of the day reading. It’s boring and slow, but it’s all I have to do. Eventually I figure out how to work the television, so I switch from reading to watching TV and back again all day long. Jenkins brings me lunch and dinner, but that’s the only human contact I get all day.

The food is good, so at least there’s that. After dinner, around eight that night, I start getting really antsy.

I haven’t heard from Ethan all day. I know he’s a busy man and probably works late, but still, I thought maybe I’d see him more. He hasn’t even touched me yet, although it hasn’t been a full day. Maybe he’s just easing himself into it, working up to it. Maybe he just likes a little suspense.

I don’t feel suspenseful. I just feel bored.

Eventually, midnight rolls around, and I’m exhausted. I turn off the television and toss my book aside before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed.

I stare up at the ceiling, disappointed. I thought that being an escort was going to be more exciting than this. So far, it’s more like a boring vacation. I want to make Ethan happy, not just sit around in this room alone and read books.

Then again, this is what he told me to do. He wants me to stay in this room and only leave with his permission. If that makes him happy, knowing that I’m safe in here, well, then I guess it’s what I have to do.

Still, I’m disappointed. I want to see him again. Maybe that’s silly, but I want to see his cocky smile and his handsome face. I want to see the muscles under his perfectly fitting suit. I want him to take me, let me please him in the way that I know I’m supposed to.

Instead, I’m stuck in here. His little pet. I frown at the nickname.

I don’t really like it, but I don’t really hate it, either. It just makes me feel strange. My heart beats fast and part of me likes the idea of being a pretty thing sitting in a cage for him, though the other part of me doesn’t want to be kept.

As I start to drift off to sleep, the phone starts to ring. It’s sudden and it pulls me from sleep with a start. I crawl over to the side and pull it off the receiver on the third ring.

“Hello?” I answer, glancing at the clock. It’s around one in the morning.

“Hello, pet,” he says.

I smile despite myself. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.”

“That’s okay.”

“How are you liking your stay so far?”

“Good,” I say. “The food is amazing.”

“You can thank Michelle for that, my cook. You’ll meet her soon.”

“I look forward to it.” I hold the receiver between my ear and my shoulder, twirling the cord between my fingers.

“I’m stuck at work, but I’m thinking about you,” he says softly. “What are you wearing right now?”

I smile to myself. “Black bra and matching panties,” I say, which is true. Though I’m also wearing a white t-shirt and soft jogging pants.

“That’s all?” he asks. “I doubt you sleep in just that.”

“Who says I’m sleeping?” I ask, suddenly getting an idea.

“It’s late,” he says.

“I was up thinking of you,” I answer.

He pauses. “What were you thinking?” he asks.

“I was thinking about your hands on my body,” I say. “I’m your pet, but you haven’t even stroked me yet,” I say.

Another pause. “And you want me to stroke you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I whisper. “As soon as you’re home. I’m so bored without you.”

“I’m sure you are.” He pauses again and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. “I’ll see you soon, pet. Sleep tight.”

He hangs up suddenly and I’m left staring at the phone, not sure what just happened.

I tried to be sexy for him and he just hangs up on me. Like he wasn’t interested in it at all. I hang the phone up and collapse back into bed, sighing.

Maybe I suck at this. If I can’t figure out what he wants and soon, I’m going to screw it all up, and I can’t afford that.

This is my last attempt. It’s all or nothing for me right now, and I can’t give up. One bad phone call won’t change anything.

I’m going to make this man happy whether he wants me to or not.