Andros, with his spicy cologne, expensive suit, dangerous accent, handsome looks, and dark stare was eviler than the devil himself. He understood that further humiliation of an already-broken girl was fruitless. Instead, his strategy was to build me up, support my child, mend my shredded self-esteem, and make me believe I was valuable.
Only then, only once my confidence was regained, could he truly humiliate me and in doing so, tighten his hold on my future and that of my child.
Madeline
Present day
The scenery of northern Texas passed beyond the limousine’s windows as David drove us to St. Pierre, Marion’s jeweler. When I’d returned to my room after not eating breakfast, imagine my shock at finding the cleaned vanity in my bathroom. All of the cosmetics had been returned to their places and most importantly, the necklace Patrick had instructed me to wear was missing.
Instead of panicking, I went to the dresser and found the wooden box Eloise had shown me the day before. Removing it from the drawer, I lifted the lid. As it had been before, the necklace was within it. I immediately secured the chain around my neck. With the door to the hallway locked, I stepped to the large windows and peered out at Marion’s ranch. In the distance were trucks and men near the oil wells. I hadn’t seen anyone near the barns or corrals, but there were people. He couldn’t possibly believe I’d be content as a hostage on this piece of land.
As I stepped into the shower and multiple showerheads rained warm water over my skin and long dark hair, memories I’d forgotten continued to return.
Forgotten was a bad choice of wording.
They were memories that I’d successfully compartmentalized away.
As the water streamed and steam filled the bathroom, I recalled my first shower at Andros’s home. Much like this suite at Marion’s, my assigned suite at Andros’s had been like something out of a storybook or TV show. In the span of twenty-four hours, I’d gone from living in darkness, filth, and bodily secretions to the lap of luxury.
My room was large, complete with a bed bigger than I’d ever seen. It wasn’t only a bedroom but also living quarters, including an area furnished with a sofa, television, long chair, and tables. There was even a desk for when my studies began.
The closet was larger than Patrick’s and my room at the mission, and the attached bathroom not only had a big glass shower but also a bathtub with jets that bubbled when a button was pushed. Also like Marion’s home, my suite at Andros’s was on a second floor. Those windows overlooked an inner courtyard—much like a small park surrounded by house.
Within the next few weeks, Andros would have the room next to mine connected by an inner door and create an attached nursery.
I hadn’t given my arrival to Andros’s much thought over the years as life became routine. However, now that circumstances changed, I was able to look back and see my willingness to inaccurately credit Andros’s actions as care or concern.
They said that hindsight was 20/20. In reality, it was clearer even than that.
Never had I imagined that I was a pawn in a bigger game. Instead, as the starved, broken soul that I was, I willingly accepted each luxury as a building block to my new life. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss Patrick. It was that I pushed away any thought of him as soon as it materialized.
The day I arrived at Andros’s, I was no longer the woman Patrick loved and married. I’d given him my virginity and now that seemed insane. Over the four months in the cell, I’d allowed man after man to take and abuse my body in exchange for a bite of food. At eighteen, I couldn’t say how many men had used me.
My heart missed my husband, but my mind told me that he wouldn’t want me anymore, and yet Andros had.
The similarities and differences between Andros’s acquisition and Marion’s were growing clearer. Marion had said he wanted to save me in Chicago, a romantic gesture that would lead to his proposal. Andros never proposed, yet at the time, I saw his purchase as saving me. I saw his generosity as a romantic gesture. At first, sex wasn’t even part of the equation as it wasn’t with Marion either. And yet both of these men believed I was theirs for the taking.
Nearly seventeen years ago, I’d misconstrued Andros’s generosity as sentiment.
Now, with Marion, I knew better.
During my time with Andros, I learned much more than what I was taught by the tutor. Some knowledge was more important than mathematics, literature, grammar, language, and history. Through the years and life’s experiences, I accumulated knowledge that shaped me as a woman, mother, and mistress.
As the North Texas scenery continued to pass beyond the car windows and the sun continued to rise higher in the sky, I marveled at not only my change in attitude but in part at the stimulus. What I’d told Marion about having hidden money was accurate. The plan to leave Andros had been in motion since the first time he shattered the illusion of our relationship. I’d always planned to get Ruby to adulthood and send her overseas for university.
My plan never included a man, and yet to my shock and surprise, the man I legally married a long time ago not only still lived but wanted me back—maybe until he learned the truth—and even more surprisingly, I wanted him.
Marion wouldn’t win.
My life with Patrick wouldn’t be delayed another seventeen years.
I was done being a commodity that could be bartered, traded, or sold.
As David drove, the ring in my purse wasn’t my most important piece of jewelry. The necklace around my neck was. While in my room, I’d spoken at length to whoever was listening and explained all I knew about the jeweler, hoping they would get my message.
We’d made our way from the ranch in and out of populated areas. Once again, the vast plains beyond the windows made me wonder how far outside of Dallas this jeweler was located. The time on my watch read a little before eleven.
“Mrs. Elliott,” David’s voice came through the interior speakers.
My neck straightened as I inhaled and exhaled. Pushing the button that I’d been shown earlier, I responded, “David, please call me Madeline.”
It was a simple fix to the last-name problem.
“Yes, ma’am, I spoke to Randolph. He’s waiting, and we should arrive there in less than ten minutes.”
It had been over a thirty-minute drive thus far.
“Okay. Thank you for the update.”
“Mr. Elliott also called to be sure you’re well.”
Well?
“Please tell him I couldn’t be better.” That wasn’t true, but I was damn well not perpetuating his fraud that I needed mental stability. If the man thought I’d willingly be sold and married off, he was the one with mental issues. “Ask him if he’s learned anything about Ruby.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will when I let him know we’ve arrived.”
The view out the window indicated we were entering a more populated area. Buildings and signs told me we were entering a small town. The tires bumped as David pulled the limousine into a small parking lot outside a rather nondescript building.
“Is this St. Pierre’s?” I asked through the speakers, taking in the empty parking lot and dark windows.
“Yes, it is.”
“It looks closed,” I said.