Chapter 6

Penelope

The smell of fresh coffee jolts my body awake from the deepest sleep I’ve experienced in months. I sit up and pull the blankets up to my neck as the unfamiliarity of the room penetrates my sleep-foggy brain. Panic and fear fill my lungs, but my next breath gets trapped in my lungs.

The early morning light peeks in from cracks in the curtain, letting in just enough brightness to take in the large and luxurious room. It’s nothing like the dank and dark rooms I’m accustomed to. My brain begins to calculate every possible entrance and exit, looking for an escape route.

Three doors. Two windows. No escape. The layout tugs at my mind.

I drag a needed breath into my lungs as everything finally begins to become clearer. Memories of the night before replay, reminding of my current predicament. The tension in my body begins to subside a little. Confusion replaces panic, but my fear still lingers.

Can you blame me? I have no idea what the next part of my life will be like. Tony, or whatever his name is, confused me even more when he sent me off to bed alone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. Last night wasn’t all I feared it would be, but that doesn’t mean my fears are placated. My life is not my own. My body is not my own. I’m his, and I have no idea what that means or what he plans to do with me.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, but not before I notice a fluffy white terrycloth robe draped over the end of the bed. I reach for it and wrap it around my body, careful to tie it tightly at my waist.

Last night didn’t go as I expected. When he bent down at my feet, I didn’t know what to think. Panic surged through me; I wasn’t ready for what I thought he might do. And when he touched me so gently, so softly, like I was going to break if he moved too fast, I didn’t expect it. After a moment, I realized he wanted to release me from my shackles, and while it frightened me, I let him. I wanted to be free of their weight almost as much as he wanted to free me of them.

Then he saw the marks on my skin. They aren’t new. I’ve had them since I was taken from my family home many months ago. They don’t bother me anymore, but seeing them there visibly bothered me, reminding me I would never walk free again. But the gentle brush of his thumb against the redness nearly undid my reserve and planted the small seed of hope again.

There was something about the look in his eyes. I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, and it melted a little of the icy demeanor I’ve tried to master. Which is why I didn’t hesitate when he sent me off to bed. Even if he had followed me and taken my body, I needed to get out of that room and break the spell I was slowly falling under. That little bit of caring made me feel warmth toward him, which was absolutely against the rules.

The caffeinated smell permeating the air grows stronger, beckoning me out of my head and back into the real world. I move toward the door and slowly turn the knob. Pausing for a moment to swallow my nerves, I open the door a small crack, checking the safety of the room. I push it open wider, but the response of anger and hatred I expect doesn’t come. Taking in the room as I step into it, I find Tony staring at me with a curious gaze on his face. He is seated at the table, which is covered with a few dishes of what I believe is food, but they are covered. There is also an electric coffee maker within arm’s reach of Tony.

“Good morning, Penelope,” he says, clearing his voice, dragging my eyes back to him. I clasp my hands in front of me and look down at the floor, waiting for my instructions. “Please don’t do that. I don’t want you to avert your eyes, and I don’t want you acting like I’m going to reach out and strike you. Because I’m not.”

I look up at him from beneath my lashes and take a step toward the table, assuming I’m meant to join him. He nods, reassuring me of my decision, and stands to pull out the chair next to him. After I sit, he sits and reaches across the table, sliding a clean white mug in my direction.

“Would you like some coffee, or perhaps some orange juice?” He looks at me expectantly, but I don’t answer, feeling very self-conscious. Did he see me staring at the coffee earlier? “If there is something else you’d prefer, I can ring down and have them bring it up.”

“No, coffee would be nice. Black, please.” My voice comes out small and soft. He pours a generous amount into the cup before placing it in front of me. My hands wrap around the mug, carefully lifting it to my lips.

“How did you sleep?”

“Well, thank you,” I take a sip, letting the taste spread across my tongue and down my throat. I stifle a moan and look up to find his eyes on me again, a thousand questions in their depths. I place the cup down, almost spilling it. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Penelope.”

“Penny. I prefer Penny.”

“Penny… Lucky penny.” He smiles softly, and for a moment, I forget who we are to each other and give him smile back. He looks off in the distance behind me, like he’s lost in some thought deep inside of his mind. “My lucky penny,” he mumbles before composing himself again.

“What do you expect of me?” I ask, pulling him back to the moment. He looks down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. I like this look. It makes me forget the truth of what we are.

“What do you mean?” he asks carefully and places his napkin on the table next to his half-eaten plate of food.

“Last night, I thought you would…” I trail off, unable to say the words.

“I would what?”

“You sent me to bed. Alone.”

“I don’t know what you expected, Penny, but like I told you last night, I will not hurt you.”

“But you were supposed to… Last night was supposed to be…”

“You mean I was supposed to have sex with you,” he finishes for me. I don’t know if he’s playing with me or if he’s just that clueless to what was supposed to happen. “They told you to expect something, and it didn’t happen. Am I right?”

I nod my head. “I belong to you, and I was supposed to submit to you last night and give you what you want.”

“This is what I want, Penny. We will not have sex. You will remain untouched by me or any man. This is set in stone.”

“But why? Are you not happy with me?”

“It’s a very complicated matter, but no, I’m not unhappy with you.”

“Do you not like girls?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to insult you, unless it’s true, in that case—”

“I’m not gay.”

“Oh. Then why won’t you take what is yours?”

“Because it isn’t mine to take. You aren’t a piece of property to own. You’re a human being, caught up in a world that shouldn’t exist.” He stands, closing his mouth from saying anything further. He’s teetering on some precipice, a thin line between what he wants and what is expected, but from the look of his face, I shouldn’t push him any farther on the subject. “I have business to attend to. You will stay here in the suite. The stylist will be here around lunchtime to deliver your clothing. If you are not happy with the items I’ve preselected for you, you may send it all back and choose for yourself. However, do not allow anyone else into the room. You are not to talk to anyone else either. I have also prescheduled lunch and dinner for you; they will be delivered at the appropriate time.”

He steps away from the table and begins moving toward the door, but something in me causes me to call out to him, to stop him.

“Tony, please.” He stops and looks back at me, waiting for me to speak, but the words don’t come. Almost like he understands my struggle, he nods his head and walks out of the room.

I take a deep breath, holding back the tears threatening to spill over. There is something about his words. I want to believe them, and not because of what it means to me. I want to believe him because he needs me to.

For both of us.