Page 12 of The Client
Suddenly, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him. His lips slam onto mine for the second time. A startled gasp gets stuck in my throat as he wedges his tongue into my mouth. He pulls back with a lecherous grin.
“You know,” he says, “you’re very—”
But he doesn’t finish the sentence, because the car suddenly pulls to a stop. Dropping his hand, he straightens his jacket and waits for the driver to open his door. Once he steps out of the car, I slide out after him, my trembling hands clenching the straps of my duffel.
I’m startled by what I see. We’re not at a hotel or a high-rise apartment building like I’d expected. We’re parked in front of a beautiful townhouse. This place looks like something out of an architectural magazine. It’s a mansion. It’s four stories tall, made of light-colored stone, with arched windows and ornate black iron rails on the balconies. The front door is flanked by white pillars and painted high-gloss black. I hope that isn’t a sign.
Taking my arm, the buyer leads me through the front gate, down a paved pathway, and up to the door, where he punches in a code on a keypad before going inside.
Were the circumstances different, I might really be able to appreciate this entrance, with its marble floors and massive chandelier hanging above my head. A maid appears at the end of the short entry hallway.
“Mr. McConnell, I didn’t know you were…oh.”
She clasps her hands together and twists them, pausing for a beat, and then scurries away without another word. But I didn’t miss the fear in the older woman’s eyes. My throat tightens. The buyer—Mr. McConnell—is probably a horrible boss. He must be for her to react like that. Maybe he yells at his staff, or worse, beats them for doing something wrong.
And his hands are going to be on me next?
Something worse occurs to me—does he put his lips, unwanted, onher, too?
Heaviness weighs on my shoulders. I wish I could sink into the floor.
McConnell loosens his tie, working it back and forth, back and forth. “Go upstairs to the first bedroom on the right,” he tells me. “Take off your clothes and wait on the bed. Naked.”
I give a quick nod and then hurry up the elegant staircase with its wrought iron railing. As soon as I get inside the bedroom, I drop my bag on the floor and sink down to the carpet, resting my back against the closed door. As if I can stop him or anyone else from coming inside and doing whatever they want to me.
My mind starts racing with panic, images of my fate flashing before my eyes. He’d said something about me being a present. Is he gifting me to someone who is going to join in? My insides flutter. What if there’s more than one other person? Sobbing into my hands, I take a few deep breaths and remind myself that I have to hurry and do as he said but I can’t seem to move. It’s my first time. What if he invites an entire party up here to share me? I’ll never survive that.
Considering the dark gleam in the man’s eyes on the ride here, I’m not sure I’ll get through this at all. There will be consequences if I don’t. Word will get back to Zoric that I tried to get out of it, or didn’t perform, and he’ll do something to my family. I know it in my bones. He didn’t have to spell out every threat for me to understand that I have to do what’s expected of me or there will be retribution.
Slowly pushing to my feet, I don’t look around the bedroom as I go into the ensuite bathroom and dab beneath my eyes with a tissue. Despite my raging emotions, my makeup still looks good. The lipstick left a nice stain on my lips, giving me a demure, just kissed look. Of course my own makeup would betray me. I wish I could mess it up and give myself mascara streaks and a blotchy complexion. Anything to make me unattractive so they’ll let me go.
Consequences, Izabela. Consequences.
Zoric’s voice whispers through my mind and I cringe.
“Be strong for Eva,” I tell myself in the mirror.
Pulling myself away from my reflection I turn away from the sink.
Turn off the bathroom light.
Hesitate in the dark before going into the bedroom.
It’s a yawning room, done in white and gray with a modern feel. The bed is massive and adorned with a thick white comforter and a black throw blanket at the foot. Matching side tables hold a lamp, each of them lit with a soft white glow. There’s matching overstuffed gray chairs by the peaked window, and an alcove holding a desk and chair. Everything is perfectly neat, as if this room is more of a showcase than a sanctuary.
It should soothe me, this neatness, but it doesn’t.
Again, I consider if there’s a way to escape. I’m only on the second floor, so maybe I can jump out the window, or find the maid I saw downstairs and beg for help…but no. There’s no one in this country who can keep me safe. No one I can turn to and let them know what’s happening to me and the other women who fall for the Zoric Agency’s promise. It can get worse for me after this and there’s nothing I can do about it. The police will dismiss me as a desperate immigrant turning to prostitution to get by. They’ll accuse me of trying to blackmail a powerful man.
Not to mention the consequences that my family and I will face if I don’t go through with this.
As long as he holds my contract, I’m locked into doing anything Zoric—and implicitly, the buyer—says.
With no more reason to stall, I strip off my clothes, one article at a time, setting my bag on one of the armchairs. Even more anxious once I’m bare, I dart over to the massive bed, hesitating for a moment before climbing under the covers and pulling them up to my chin. The sheets are icy. Goosebumps rise on my skin.
Breathing shallowly, I listen for any sound outside the door. Will I hear footsteps on the stairs, or will the door burst open all of a sudden, leaving me helpless as strange men flood the room? I start to shiver.
I’ve never been so vulnerable.
