Chapter 15
Olivia pried her eyes apart and groaned as the painfully bright light stabbed them. Her head pounded and her mouth tasted like there was a ton of sawdust inside. Shielding her eyes, she raised her head and looked around.
She was laying on what she could only describe as a chaise lounge or "fainting couch." It was upholstered in crushed velvet of a deep burgundy color with accents of black. Sitting upright on the very comfortable cushion, she braced her hands as the room swam and tilted. Taking a few moments, she raised her pounding head and squinted.
The room she was in looked to be about ten feet square. On three sides of the room, her image was reflected back by the huge floor-to-ceiling mirrors that covered them. In the reflection, she noted she was not in her normal clothes. Instead, she was wearing a mini dress with spaghetti straps made of ecru satin. The color highlighted her mocha colored skin and hazel eyes perfectly. She would have been flattered if it weren't for the realization that someone had obviously bathed her and put her into this outfit. Lifting the incredibly short skirt, she noticed even her underwear was changed. She was now wearing a thong, which is something she would never choose for herself. Her hair had been curled and piled upon her head in an artful display of dark brown curls. Whoever had dressed her, had even applied makeup in an understated tone that flattered her natural features. Looking at her nails, she saw a brand new manicure and pedicure there as well. Unless she was mistaken, she was waxed, too. Her anxiety, already heightened, shot up to about a thousand.
Shoving it to the side, she returned her attention to the room. Expensive flocked paper in a design of creamy magnolias interspersed with ribbons of burgundy and white covered the wall behind her. The lounge sat on a carpet of thick, creamy pile. Looking up, she found the source of the blinding brightness. There were banks of lights glaring down, chasing the shadows from every inch of the strange room. A small table made of ebony sat next to the lounger. Upon the shiny surface was a tray with sandwiches, pieces of fruit and a bowl containing several bottles of water buried in ice.
Reaching over, Livy plucked one of the bottles from the bowl and examined it carefully, running it through her fingers. It was a brand she knew well and had purchased at stores before. Checking the lid, she saw it was in place and the safety ring still intact. Using the napkin that sat beside the plate, she wiped the condensation from the surface and squeezed the bottle firmly. Water didn't leak out from any holes. It seemed to be legitimate, and she was thirsty; she didn't care. Whoever had abducted her, already proved they could do whatever they wished, so what did one bottle matter? She twisted the lid off and took slow sips. She never tasted anything as fine as that bottle of icy water.
Finishing off the first bottle, Livy checked the second and then drank half of it as well. With her thirst under control, the pounding in her head backed off. She stood. Her toes sank into the plush carpet, and she clenched them appreciatively. It felt wonderful under her feet.
The solid wall behind her had two doorways hidden within it. The first had no handle and no way to open. She clawed at the cracks but could not figure out how it worked. The second had a small hole on one side. Sliding her finger inside, she felt a latch and pressed it. The door popped open, revealing a bathroom containing a toilet, sink, and shower in the middle of the room and open on all sides. There were no curtains or doors around the shower - only a clear wall. The other three walls held doors as well and when she checked them, found them to be locked tightly. She knocked on them and called out, but there were no answers. Apparently, she was alone. She frowned as her eye spotted small cameras in each corner of the room. Maybe not as alone as she would like. What kind of freak put cameras in a bathroom?
Retreating to the outer room, she closed the door and checked the mirrors. Pressing a finger to the glass, she noticed how the reflected digit didn't touch her own. Two-way glass. She dropped her hand. So, someone was watching her. What the hell was going on?
Cupping her hands around her eyes, she pressed her nose to the glass and attempted to peer through. There was nothing there. Balling her fist, she banged on it several times. "Hello! I know you're out there. Who are you and why have you taken me?"
Silence.
She tried several more times with the same result. Fine. If they wouldn't voluntarily speak to her, she would make them listen. Marching back to the table, she picked up the food and placed it on the chaise along with the bowl of water. Grabbing the table, she attempted to lift it, only to find it was bolted to the floor. An examination of the chaise revealed the same. Damn.
Placing the food back on the table, she sat on the chaise and examined her options. There weren't many. She was locked in this room with no way out, and until someone showed up, she wasn't going anywhere. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. For the moment, at least, she wasn't eating anything her captor gave her. She had no choice regarding the water, due to her near miss with a heat stroke, but she could hold out on the food. Laying back on the lounger, she tucked the too short skirt around her thighs as best she could and threw an arm over her eyes to block out the light. All she could do right now is wait for Bruiser to find her. She had no misconceptions about that. He would find her; the question was when?
The next time she opened her eyes, the overhead lights were significantly dimmer. Sitting upright, she glanced around and noticed the sandwiches were replaced by new ones and the bowl of water bottles refilled. She needed to go to the bathroom but loathed to go, knowing the cameras were there. However, the prospect of having an accident made up her mind for her. She ran into the room, did her business quickly, being careful to keep herself covered as much as possible. Washing her hands, she didn't see a towel to dry them, so resorted to shaking them in the air to dislodge water. When she returned to the room, she found a man sitting in a chair with his back to the glass.
"Jake?"
The man's face widened into a smile. "Hello, Olivia. Please, have a seat."
She remained where she was at the doorway of the bathroom. Jake frowned and raised a hand, making a motion with his fingers. The door closed behind her, smacking her in the butt. Not appreciating being in the same room alone with the man who had evidently been stalking her, she pressed her finger into the latch and pressed. The door was locked.
He shook his head sadly. "You've been unconscious for almost two days. I do apologize for my associates' rough handling of you. Leaving you in that shipping container in the middle of a hot summer day was unforgivable. I've reprimanded them for their thoughtless care." He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "About this mistrust of yours - if I had mal intent in mind, I would have already done it. Now, please. Sit. You don't have much time, and I'd like to explain a few things to you. Normally, I wouldn't bother, but you strike me as being sensible. Once things are explained to you, I'm sure you will fall into line quickly thus saving everyone any more unpleasantness."
She narrowed her eyes but decided to at least listen to what he said. She would make up her mind about falling into line later. Sitting on the chaise, she canted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "I'm sitting. Talk."
"So feisty. It's almost a shame to see you go so quickly." He let out a slow breath, crossed his legs nonchalantly and folded his hands in his lap. "Of course, Meester De Jääger has impeccable taste."
"Who is Meester De Jääger and why would he have impeccable taste?" Olivia reached over and picked up a bottle of water, scrutinized it and opened it. "What do either of those statements have to do with me?"
"He owns you."
She spit the water in a shower of droplets arcing in the air, reaching Jake's shoes. Coughing, she gripped the bottle until the plastic popped in protest. "He what?" She gasped.
"He owns you. He purchased you for a nice sum. You should be quite flattered."
The bottle left her hand before she knew she had flung it and hit Jake in the chest, dumping the rest of its contents into his lap. "Nobody owns me," she hissed.
He jumped to his feet cursing and pulled his soaked pants away from his crotch. She took the moment of distraction to attack the door again. As before, it was locked.
"Sit down. I'd hate to have to drug you, but I will. This is the only chance you have to get your questions answered. Most of our stock doesn't get that."
Jake's words cut through the blind panic. "Stock? What am I, a cow?"
He let out an exasperated breath and sat again. With a raise of an eyebrow, he waited until she returned to the chaise. "Not a cow, but you are stock. In fact, you are what we call a special order. Meester De Jääger ordered you in particular. Normally, our stock is brought here to be processed then auctioned off. We try to create a nice environment for them." He waved a hand around the room. "It keeps everyone calm, and the clients can peruse the merchandise through the windows. A win-win situation."
Livy wanted to laugh. Jake was talking about her like she was an offering in one of those specialty magazines. Humans aren't commodities to be bartered. Livy had heard of human trafficking; in this day and age, who hadn't? However, it was a third world problem, not something that happened in the United States. Sure, people went missing all the time; every day, in fact, but not sold into slavery. This wasn't the 1800's. She simply could not wrap her head around the ramifications of what he was saying. She closed her eyes a second and got her thoughts under control. "A win-win situation? For who?" She threw her hand up to stop him from speaking. "Wait, let me get this straight. A random guy ordered me? Is there some sort of menu? Did he choose size, hair and eye color? What about options? Did he pay extra for my butt size? Maybe it was by the pound or, oh I don’t know, by the inch? I got it; he used one of those customizing programs like at a car dealership. Brown hair- check. Five foot, six - check. Hazel eyes - check, check." She felt hysteria bubble up, and she started to giggle. "Does he get a warranty? Money back guarantee? Do you take coupons here?"
The crack of his palm across her cheek was not hard, but it did bring her out of the insane hole she was slipping into. "This fastidious mockery doesn't suit you, Olivia. The truth of the matter is quite simple. Like many impulse shoppers, he saw you and wanted to own you. He called me with your information, we found you and obtained you. It's as simple as that." Jake shrugged his shoulders. "The why is not important at the moment. Your new owner will be here shortly to take possession. Meester De Jääger is not an overly patient man, so you must be ready to go. The question is, will you behave or will we have to sedate you? Make no mistake. You will be going with him. You can travel at his side, or sleep in a box. That choice is up to you. What will it be?" He checked an expensive watch on his wrist. "He's already landed and on his way here. You have less than an hour."
Olivia weighed her options. She could "behave" and perhaps get a chance to escape later or be stubborn and end up sedated with no way out. "I'd rather not be drugged."
"I knew you were smart." Jake made another motion with his hand, and the door to the bathroom popped open. "Meester De Jääger has provided you with clothing and assorted toiletries he has chosen specifically for you. Shower, don the new clothing and use the products provided. Meester De Jääger has very particular tastes, and you must be ready for him." He hesitated a moment. "Olivia, I hope you will take my advice. I have been in this business for many years. In that time, I have seen merchandise purchased by men of honor as well as those who are less than savory. I don't judge them for their tastes. What they do with their property is their business. Just as some collectors of fine art will toss a painting into a garage and forget about it, some of the clients have no regard for the property they purchase. However, you are fortunate to belong to Meester De Jääger. He cherishes his treasures. They are pampered, coddled, and treated as precious objects. Obey him, give him no reason to sell or destroy you, and you will have a long, enjoyable life."
She wanted to ask him more questions, but at the moment, she couldn't think of any. The words circled her head; merchandise, objects, treasures. Her heart fell into her shoes as the severity of her situation truly struck home. Until now, in some small portion of her mind, she still believed this wasn't happening. It had to be a dream. No, not a dream. It was a nightmare that was becoming more and more real as the minutes ticked by. She was about to be sold to a stranger who happened to see her and decided he wanted her. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.
"Get ready to meet your owner. If you don't dress on your own, I'll call someone to do it for you. I'm sure one of my men would enjoy that, again." Jake's insinuation was clear.
She stood and made her way to the bathroom. As she stepped through, she heard the second door open. Rushing back to the room, she heard it close, and the lock engage again. Livy screamed in frustration as her fists pounded on the door. It was no use. She was captured with no visible way to get out. Sliding down to sit on the floor she closed her eyes and put her head back. "Alright, Bruiser. I've had enough of the sideshow treatment. Get your butt in gear and get me out of here," she whispered even as doubt wiggled its way into her consciousness. She had survived her mother's indifference and Sly's attention. She could survive this as well. It occurred to her that pimps came in all sizes, colors and financial standing. Jake may not be peddling women on a street corner, but he was another pimp just the same. It was ironic that she had avoided Sly all those years just to end up exactly like her mother, only worse. At least her mother could get free if she truly wanted to. Livy didn't have that option. She would laugh at the irony of it if she weren't so busy crying from the sheer magnitude of her situation.