Five days passed, each one scratched on a calendar of waiting. My life existed to dust and clean, while Suzette helped smooth my rusty French. I stared longingly at the front door, wanting freedom, but the green-eyed guard was never far away. Watching, always watching.
The only bright spot was Suzette. She welcomed me with open arms into the Mercer household, and became the rock in the turbulent seas I swam.
She never pried, always chatted about nothing and everything, giving me a sense of normalcy. Every now and again, I caught her watching, a frown on her face and curiosity in her gaze. She plotted something, but I didn’t know what.
Even Mrs. Sucre tolerated my presence in the kitchen, as I became a permanent feature—helping prepare evening meals and hovering in the welcome embrace of the busy hub.
Suzette supplied rags and brooms and gave me chores. They helped keep boredom at bay; I needed it. Boredom brought thoughts of escape and endangerment. But no amount of scrubbing stopped my heart twinging every time I remembered Q had Brax’s bracelet.
A cold sweat would drench my back at the thought of him smashing it to smithereens to teach me a lesson—ruining something of mine to get back at me for ruining something of his.
He hadn’t replaced the clothes I slashed. For a week, I scuffed around in the same jeans and cream jumper, but I didn’t care. Suzette mourned the items more than I did. To me, they signified a gaudy uniform: an outfit for a toy.
While cleaning the windows in the lounge on Friday, I contemplated hurling myself through the glass. Not to die, but to get outside. The fluttering of birds and gentle thawing of winter taunted. I hadn’t been outside in weeks.
The thought of smashing the glass and bleeding to death stopped the urge, but it didn’t deflate the need to run. Surely, this mansion had a gym—a treadmill. Running stationary would be better than no running at all. Q kept fit so he must have equipment somewhere.
My anklet buzzed, shocking me. I sat on one of the fluffy couches and hoisted my jeans. Why did it buzz? The GPS tracker drove me nuts—a constant nuisance when I tried to sleep or dress. I had hoped it wasn’t waterproof, and spent an hour trying to drown it in the shower. Turned out, it was waterproof.
“Esclave?” Suzette asked, appearing in the doorway. “Maître Mercer just called. He has a business dinner tonight with prospective clients.”
I stood, stretching. The one good thing about Q not coming for me meant my body
healed. The bruises from Leather Jacket faded to an ugly yellow, and my rib ached, rather than screamed.
The slap from Q hadn’t caused any damage, unfortunately. I had the feeling he wanted to hurt me, but didn’t quite have the balls. I wish he had branded me, and it horrified him so much, those feelings never strengthened.
I didn’t want to listen, but my gut said he’d get worse. I had to escape before instincts proved true. Suzette was wrong about him—there were no redeeming qualities. And I wouldn’t be suckered in by songs with lyrics oozing sadness.
“Do you want help preparing the meal?” I smiled. Cooking with Suzette was a highlight of my restrictive new life. I never cooked a lot, as Brax had been the chef in our family, but I found a flare for it. My heart lurched at the thought of Brax. Memories constantly caught me unaware, and I wanted to mourn, but at the same time, couldn’t. I wouldn’t accept he was dead, or that I’d never see him again. It wasn’t an option.
Suzette came forward. Something changed; she watched with sadness and resignation. My skin prickled as she asked, “Is it easier?”
I knew immediately what she meant and pursed my lips. Easier? It would never get easier.
She sighed, whispering, “Has he taken you fully yet?”
My heart raced to see jealousy flashing in her eyes. She was jealous? Of what? Being humiliated and used?
I stepped away. “Why are you asking these questions?”
She dropped her eyes. “I need to know. Tonight… this business meeting. I need to know how prepared you are.”
Relief coursed. If I could handle what I’d been through, I could handle a dinner party. After all, a role as a servant or waitress would be a lot easier than sucking off a man who forced me. My pulse thudded. Perhaps I could tell one of the guests Q kept me prisoner. That I needed the police.
A smile tugged, but I fought it. Suzette mustn’t know my hopes. But then my happiness disintegrated, rethinking the idea. The men were probably like Q: sick f**ks.
She stared for a moment, before nodding. “You don’t need to help with dinner. We’ve got it covered. You need to head upstairs and get ready. The guests will arrive in an hour.”
My eyes flew to outside, gauging the time. The sun kissed horizon, already giving brightness to shadow. When did it get so late?
Suzette pushed me toward the stairs, murmuring, “Can I ask another question?”
I stiffened, but nodded. “Okay.”
“Don’t you find him attractive?”
I slammed to a stop in the foyer. “Attraction has nothing to do with it, Suzette. It’s the circumstances, the way he treats me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Q treats you better than all my owners ever treated me. You’re so lucky.” Her tone turned sullen. “You don’t even know.”
Anger thickened and I couldn’t speak. I felt sorry for her and what she lived through, but to say I had it better? Hah!
She continued, “Just think of his requests as rent money, or protection expenses. You give him what he wants, and he’ll take care of you. Q won’t ever seriously hurt you. Not like—” Suzette shuddered and stopped. Hazel eyes flashed with secrets buried in their depths. “Give him what he needs, then you can test the boundaries of your cage.”
Curiosity overrode anger. I took a deep breath and asked softly, “What men, Suzette? How did you come to be here? Were you stolen, like me?”
She twisted her fingers, looking at the marble floor. “The day I was sold to Q was the best da—”
The front door swung open and the devil himself stood framed in twilight. His hair was slightly shorter, as if he’d instructed the hair dresser to make it look like an otter’s pelt—sleek, shiny, impenetrable. A light silver suit and turquoise shirt made him look like an expensive jewel.
Eyes shot to mine, na**d without his normal barriers. In the brief moment, I saw bone weary loneliness, surprise, and protectiveness. My heart ached to see such longing. What if Suzette was right? Q was deeper than I gave him credit for. Something lurked, dark and vile, but there was a human, as well as a monster, inside.