“Sir requires you to wear this and join him this morning. He has guests and requires your attendance.”
“No,” I murmur, my hand covering my mouth as I stifle a cry. “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head from side to side.
“You have to, Isabelle,” he says widening his eyes. Holding out the dress, I step forward, taking it from his hand. “He could be watching,” he whispers, giving me a knowing look.
“Got it,” I say, shooting him a quick smile.
“I’m sure it will be okay. Just remember the rules, Isabelle.”
I grimace, the memories from last time fresh in my mind.
“Be ready in fifteen minutes. Sir will be along to collect you.”
He turns on his heel, marching out of the room. The Harlan I spent time with yesterday is a distant memory as he returns to his normal self. The threat of Sir lingers in both our minds. I jog over to the bathroom, sliding off my clothes and pull on the figure-hugging, white dress. It’s an off-the-shoulder dress that hugs all my curves. I examine myself in the mirror and can’t help but feel that this is more of an evening gown. Quickly, I apply the make-up, paying meticulous attention to cover the scratches and bruises on my face. Jazz had shown me which of the concealers were best to use.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. The thud of my heart is the only sound that fills the room. The initials on my chest are on show, and I can’t help but think that’s why he chose this dress. To tell whoever he has visiting that I’m his. The sick feeling hits me in the gut; the thought of no longer having my own identity but being classed as someone’s possession.
A knock on the door startles me.
“Isabelle,” he calls to me. I let out a controlled breath, stepping slowing, putting one unsteady foot in front of the other as I emerge from the bathroom.
“Here,” I answer his call pleasantly, his eyes widening as soon as he sees me standing in the doorway.
“Well isn’t that just the most perfect dress,” his voice trails off, his eyes raking over my body like a predator focused on consuming its prey. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate at my meeting with you looking good enough to eat.” Goosebumps cover my skin. I smile disingenuously as I try to avoid another dose of punishment.
“It really is a beautiful dress,” I agree. I try to control my voice, appearing stronger than I know I am.
“So glad to see your marker on show.” He runs his finger across the painful scar and I can’t help but suck in a deep breath as I try not to cry out in pain.
“Does it hurt, Isabelle?” he asks with a tone of amusement.
Bastard.
“It’s just a little sore,” I reply firmly.
“I’m sorry I had to do that. You understand though, don’t you, angel?” he cups the side of my face lovingly, and I’m a little taken back by the gentleness in his touch.
I nod just to appease him, leaning into the warmth of his touch. Maybe if I can get him to show me more of this side of him, things won’t seem so bleak.
“You worried me…” I say, my eyes connecting with his dark ones. “You haven’t been to see me in days.”
“I needed to be away from you, Isabelle. I can’t control the ravenous need to consume you when I’m here with you. I needed you to heal, to be back to full strength for today.”
“I’m honored you want me by your side. I won’t let you down this time.”
He looks at me with narrowed eyes, his brows drawn together. “I’m counting on it. There’s a lot at stake today,” he says with a loose shake of his head. Leaning in, his mouth resting against my ear, he whispers, “and if you are a good girl, I will show you the pleasure room.”
I want to scream out, tell him that I don’t want to go in there, to have his vile body anywhere near me. But I can’t. I have to hold it together and pretend that this is okay.
“I’d really like that,” I lie.
“But…” he pauses, his hand sliding from the side of my face, landing heavily on the back of my neck. “Let me down and there will be no pleasure room. Just pain. Not everyone makes it out of the pain room, Isabelle,” he snarls, an evil warning to his tone.
I tremble as he squeezes tighter and tighter, my shoulders rising as I try to cope with the immeasurable pain. His hold is tight. Way too tight. I feel my vision haze as I struggle to cope with the pain. I start to count in my mind, hoping that he will let go.
“Please…” I strain for my voice to be heard.
“Let this be your only warning,” he says, releasing me with a thrust. I stumble backward, clasping my hand where his had been on my neck.
“I understand,” I croak, followed by a cough as I try to clear the dryness from my throat.
“Good, now follow me.” He barks his order at me, walking toward the door. I race to grab my shoes, pushing them on as I hastily stumble toward the door.
“Sorry,” I say as he glares at me, waiting with the door open.
“This is a big deal, Isabelle. Don’t ask questions. Don’t speak unless I give you permission to do so.”
“I understand,” I say with a firm nod of my head.
Walking beside him, we make our way to his meeting room. The room contains one oversized desk; a throne like chair is located to the center of the table.
“I will sit here,” he points to the chair that looks more like something you’d expect royalty to be sitting on. “You, my lady, you will be standing beside me. My four men will be by my other side the whole time.”
“And Harlan? Will he be here with you today?”
“Of course. He will be by the door, making sure that no one leaves until we are completely satisfied.”
I stand beside this man, nervous that I have no idea what is about to happen here. Something deep inside my gut tells me I should be worried. That something terrible is just around the corner.