Page 13 of Vengeful Devotion
“Is it okay?”
“It’s amazing,” I reply, doing my best to shake off the pain and the worry.
“I was hoping you’d say that. The staff came in and cleaned it today. No one has stayed in here in years, so it may still be a little dusty.”
“I think I’ll be okay. This place can’t be dustier than the motel.”
She chuckles, her perfectly white teeth shining. “That’s true. I had my staff fill the dresser and closet with some clothes. I wasn’t sure of the size, so if anything doesn’t fit, just let me know and I’ll have it exchanged.”
My jaw drops, my heart pounding with gratefulness and concern. “Um, wow. Y-you didn’t have to do that. I have clothes.”
“It’s included in your employment.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
I furrow my eyebrows. Is this how really rich people run their companies? Or is this just how Francine runs hers? I can’t imagine Lonny doing something so nice. A ping from Francine’s phone interrupts my thoughts. She picks it up, her expression changing from cheerful to annoyance.
“I’m sorry to rush off, Gemma, but it seems my son needs me. Dinner will be in a few hours. Feel free to explore the house on your own or take a nap. Whatever you need.”
“O-okay.”
She pats my arm. “I’m really glad you’re here, Gemma.”
I give her a small smile, watching her walk out. My ears can’t help but strain to hear the lock click into place as the door shuts. I’ve heard it every day for such a long time that when it doesn’t come, I nearly cry. A slice of my worry recedes as I realize I’m still free here. This isn’t Lonny’s house. I can come and go as I please.
The thought of being locked away again is too much for me to handle right now. I sneak towards the door, pulling it ajar slightly. With the door open, I feel like I can breathe a little easier. I’m safe, at least for now.
In the quiet, the weight of the day falls on me. My body aches like I’ve been stuck on a bumpy rollercoaster that had one too many loops. I’m drained. Being fired and hired all in the same day has been exhausting. Letting my backpack slide off and down to the hardwood floors, I move closer to the bed. I run my hands over the comforter. It’s velvety soft texture urging me to wrap myself up in it. But I don’t. I wouldn’t want to ruin it.
Instead, I move towards the bathroom. My worn-out sneakers squeak on the glossy tile of the floor. The light is brighter in here. Everything is so clean, so beautiful that I’m scared to touch anything, but I can’t take one more minute of smelling like diner grease. Turning the shower on, I shed my clothes and shoes. I step into the shower, the glass door shutting behind me. The scalding heat of the water pummels my shoulders, easing the tense muscles. For a moment, I do nothing but stand beneath the hot water and look at myself. My bruises have faded to yellow, and the welts left behind have flattened. Tears fall down my face. I can’t remember the last time I saw my skin actually healing. It hasn’t happened once in the last twelve years. I never believed I would make it this far. True freedom is so close, I can taste it. I just need to stay here and save everything I can for a few months, then I’ll be gone.
As I wash my body, the shower fills with a rainy floral scent. That the scent trails me even after I’m wrapped in a fluffy towel and standing in the closet. When Francine said that she provided some clothes, I thought she was talking about just the basics. Maybe a few packs of underwear and bras. But staring at the clothes filling the closet now, I realize I was wrong. There are more than just jeans and shirts in here. Way more. My eyes are immediately drawn to a sparkly, dark blue gown. I reach out, barely ghosting a touch over it. It’s a beautiful dress. One I would love to wear but never will. It’s too fancy for a girl like me. Everything here is too fancy. I’d rather wear my own clothes but what little I have desperately needs to be washed.
Sighing, I grab the plainest outfit I can find. A buttery soft white shirt and some black jeans. Drawers filled with undergarments line a section of the back wall of the closet. Grabbing the cheapest looking set, I dress and leave the closet. I retrace my steps to the bathroom, cleaning up the damp towel and dirty clothes along the way. I may not deserve this nice of a room, but I will take care of it while I have it.
I look at the large mirror on the wall. My wet hair is dripping on the shirt, making it see through. Damnit, I’m already screwing this shirt up. I wring my hair out in the towel before pulling it back into two braids.
A throat clears, rendering a small yelp from me. I look out into the room, noticing a man standing there. His cold, blue eyes looking lifeless inside his towering frame.
“The boss wants you,” he says, his gruff tone making it seem more like a growl than a statement.
My eyebrows furrow. “Francine?”
He sighs, like my tiny question has inconvenienced his entire day.
“Just follow me.”
He walks out, leaving me in the room blinking. Not wanting to incur any more of his annoyance, I do as I’m told. I follow him through the house, neither of us speaking a word. My stomach twists the deeper we venture into the home. I wasn’t fully paying attention when Francine gave me that tour, but I’m sure she didn’t touch on this side of the house. It looks like the same house here, but it doesn’t feel the same. The comfort I felt when I first came in is gone. My palms begin to sweat, fear pumping through my veins. Blindly following this intimidating stranger might not have been my smartest idea.
Finally, the man comes to a stop in front of a large oak door. He turns towards me, giving me a cold once over. His assessing gaze makes me feel small. He looks down on me like every other man I’ve ever met. Except for one. Declan’s face pops up in my mind. He might’ve looked at me like I was the person who killed his dog, but he didn’t look at me like I was less than.
The man raises his fist, knocking on the solid wood.
“Enter.”
Before I have a chance to process the voice behind the door, it’s pushed open. My eyes land on Declan sitting behind his desk with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Nerves fill my stomach as I step into the room. I search for a logical reason why he’d call me in here when he isn’t my boss. But all I can think about is the way he makes my heart pound in my chest.
