The girl cleans up the carpet with the towel before spraying it over. Not once does she raise a brow or wince at the fact that I soiled the floor.
I peer over the edge of the bed to look at how meticulously she works, rinsing every nook and cranny. “Don’t worry about it,” she says as she looks up at me. “This always happens.”
Always? As in … this has happened to other people?
Oh, God.
“The drugs should be wearing off,” she says, and she places the pills and some water on the nightstand beside me. “You should feel better in a couple of minutes after you take these.”
She sounds as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about, and I don’t doubt that for a second. But I won’t take these meds, not even if my life depends on it. It’s not worth the risk of getting poisoned.
She rinses the towels and tucks them in a bin. “I’ll come pick up the dirty laundry later, okay?”
I don’t reply, don’t even move an inch. I just stare at her as she smiles and then leaves the room. Finally, I allow myself to breathe again.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!
I put the lamp down and throw the blanket off, stepping over the stain I just made. I don’t even care about the mess. All I care about is finding out where the hell I am and why this man brought me here.
Suddenly, the door opens again, and I stumble into the bed, trying to grab ahold of something in order not to fall.
It’s that same girl again, and she clears her throat. “Sorry, I forgot to mention something important.”
I look up at her, and without waiting for her to say more, I ask, “Where am I?”
Her lips part as though she’s about to say something, but then she changes her mind, and says, “House of Sin.”
House of Sin? What is that?
“He expects you to be dressed and ready for him.”
Before I can ask any more questions, she closes the door on me.
“No, wait!” I stagger to the door and bang on it hard, but there is no reply. The door is locked, and no matter how often I pull the handle, it won’t budge.
But I won’t give up. “Please! You’ve got to let me out! This is a mistake!”
I keep banging on the door until my hands hurt and my body feels heavy.
“Please, let me out!” I beg. “I don’t want to be here!”
But deep down, I already know it’s futile.
I sink to the floor, my hand still on the wood, as I disappear into my mind for a moment to try to cope with things and make sense of my new reality. The realization that I’m trapped in a room I don’t belong in hits me hard, and tears well up in my eyes. It’s as if I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.
All because of that man … that man who stalked me to my work and took me against my will. And I don’t even know his name.
I stare at the room around me, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do other than dress myself. I’m not even sure I really want to, but do I really have a choice? If I don’t, would they let me out of this room?
Just thinking about being stuck here forever gives me the creeps. I mean, it’s not an ugly room. The décor is actually luxurious, with a soft velvety couch on the side, a big bookcase filled with books, and a giant wardrobe. But the windows are barred. This place is nothing but a glorified prison, and I’m being kept here like some sort of criminal.
What did I do to deserve this?
Nothing … nothing I can remember, that is.
All I know is that when he asked me what my darkest wish was, I told him I wanted to be punished. It just slipped out. I didn’t know it would lead to me being taken and put into an expensive cage.
I sigh to myself and get up from the floor. No point in hanging around and doing nothing. So I gather my courage and inspect every nook and cranny of my room, trying to find an exit, a hidden compartment, or anything that could lead me to either a key or a way out.
But the longer I search, the more despair takes over. I find nothing, absolutely nothing.
“Fuck!” I growl out loud, slamming my fists onto the barred windows.
Nothing’s left unscathed. I even searched under the bedding and peeled away some of the wallpaper. There’s nothing I can use to force my way out. My hand rests against the window, but my view is blocked by the rain splashing down from above.
Guess there’s no other choice.
I turn my gaze toward the big wardrobe in the corner next to me. I open it up, expecting rage to further fuel my need to rip it all apart. Instead, my jaw drops at the beauty in front of me. Several glittery gowns with amazing colors, laced in diamonds and chiffon, are hanging in the wardrobe. Gowns from several high-end brands that only a princess would wear. But I am no princess, and I refuse to play this game.
So I grasp the smallest, most mediocre and modest dress I can find; a short nude dress with no embellishments and a tight fit around the legs and neck. He will expect me to get dressed. Well, that girl never said he’d expect me to dress fancy.
With a smug grin on my face, I take off my clothes and glare at them for a second. These were the jeans and crop top I was wearing when I was working at the library when he came for me, and when I look at them, all I see is his daunting face and those green eyes gazing right back at me as though they could peer into my soul.
Shivering in place, I throw the clothes in the corner. I grab the only pair of panties from the drawer and put them on, then the dress. It fits me snugly and feels like the perfect size … as though it was made just for me.
I inspect myself in the mirror and smile at the woman in front of me, but the smile is fake, empty, emotionless. A woman who’s going through the motions expected of her while screaming on the inside. But then why does it feel like I can’t let it all out?
Suddenly, there is a knock on the door, and I hold my breath.
The door opens. First, a foot is visible. Then the black suit. Another foot. The man with the square jaw steps inside my room again, his thin lips tugging at the corner into a rugged, crooked smile.
I freeze in place as he closes the door behind him. The click of the lock falling into place makes my heart jump. Every step he takes is another one that forces me to stay put, as though his very presence is enough to make my body falter. My muscles fail to listen to me when I tell them to move. When I want to raise a fist and punch him for daring to get close.
Instead, I just stand there, gazing at both of us in the mirror, wondering why he did all of this to me … and what he’s planning to do.
As he walks closer, I hold my breath until I can practically feel his body against mine. He looks at me through the mirror, his tongue darting out briefly like a wolf would when it’s about to eat.
“You look … beautiful,” he says, his voice luscious, almost sexy. “Peculiar choice of dress, but I can appreciate that,” he muses, and he places a hand on my shoulder. Goose bumps scatter on my skin. “Look at yourself … So pretty yet so violent, those thoughts swirling inside your head.”
I spin on my heels, forcing his hand to drop from my shoulder. Even though my heart is racing, I come face-to-face with the man who trapped me.
“Who are you?”
That same dark, almost hungry smile appears. “Call me Eli.”
Eli … such an innocent name for such a devilish man.