Page 11 of The Client
“Hello, beautiful.”
My head snaps up. It’s him.
The wolf.
My heart lurches as he steps closer and takes my chin in his hand.
“Look at those perky little tits,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Too bad you’re a gift. But I don’t mind playing with someone else’s toys. I’ll have my turn when he’s done with you.”
When who’s done with me?
He leans in before I can register what he’s doing, his moist lips covering mine aggressively, trapping my cry. Then he bites my lower lip, hard enough that I gasp.
My flight instinct kicks in too late. He pulls away, his eyes heated.
“Get her things and put her in my car,” he barks to an attendant. Then, to me, “See you soon, beautiful.”
4
IZABELA
I’m goingto spend the rest of my life trying to forget this night.
The bidding itself had happened so fast, but now that I’m in the back of this chauffeured car with the man who bought me—the man who bit me—time slows to an agonizing crawl.
We’re sitting thigh to thigh, and I’m suffocating in the musky fog of his cologne as his damp palm cups my knee. I was allowed five minutes to pull my clothes over the white lingerie before being ushered to the car, but even though I’m fully clothed, I feel vulnerable and naked. And I know it’s only going to get worse from here.
I try to tell myself that I should feel fortunate that the man who bought me is good-looking, but it isn’t helping. He might be cruel or creepy; I don’t know. This man’s face will be burned in my memory as my first sexual experience. The placation of his handsomeness isn’t working. He could be the most beautiful man in the world and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t want to be in his bed or anyone else’s as the result of being sold to the highest bidder. My palms are clammy, but I don’t dare dry them on my pants. I don’t want him to know how nervous and dread filled I am.
It's not right to focus on my sister’s treatments right now. It feels wrong to think about her when I’m about to do… what I’m about to do. Nothing else comes to mind to help hold the panic back. It starts to break through, leaching into my brain and raising all the alarms.
I could open the door and bail. No one will want to explain why a woman jumped from a moving vehicle and I might be able to get away. But Zoric has my passport. I’d have to approach him about getting it back… if I survive jumping from a speeding car. I could use it as blackmail, though, tell him I’ll keep my mouth shut if he lets me out of the contract and returns my passport.
But what about my family?
He could easily hurt them before I returned to Poland. Take my uncle’s farm or spread lies that tarnish his butchering business. He could use his power and influence to stop my sister’s medications. Or worse. Because therewillbe some kind of retaliation. Konstantin Zoric is a dangerous man, and I am entirely disposable.
Pressing a hand to my middle, I clench my eyes and hold back the urge to rage against the confines of this car and the feel of a stranger’s hand on me.
The buyer said I was a gift for someone else, and that he’d take his own turn with me afterward. What does that mean? Is this man going to watch his friend or associate use me first, and then have me for himself? Are they going to be passing me back and forth? Exactly how long am I obligated to be rented out for? Zoric told me nothing about the terms, and he definitely didn’t mention that I could be “shared” by multiple clients. I think of Diya’s story about getting tied up for days, and I pray that I won’t experience a similar fate.
I side-eye the buyer and try to get a read on him. Is he going to be violent? The way he bit my lip says he’s unpredictable, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the whips and chains are coming out. Maybe he won’t be awful. Or maybe I’m just lying to myself because I’m terrified of how bad this could get. And who’s to say his associate won’t be a monster in his own right?
Either way, it doesn’t seem like I’m going to have much luck gleaning any clues right now. The buyer hasn’t said a word since he slid into the back seat with me. Instead, he’s been on his cellphone, tapping out texts or emails at a rapid pace. I’d like to say that being ignored is giving me a chance to collect myself, but I can’t really take a deep breath with his hand on me like this. He’s been slowly working it higher and higher up my leggings with each passing mile.
I turn my head to look out the window, willing the tears in my eyes to dry up before they fall. The city lights are nothing but blurs of white and yellow and red, the stars obscured by clouds overhead. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I—
“They say everyone has a doppelganger,” the buyer says suddenly. “Look at me.”
Startled from my thoughts, I look over, trying not to look scared. He reaches his hand out, lifting my chin and turning my face one way and then the other, inspecting me like livestock. I can feel my pulse kick harder, my face going hot.
Avoiding his gaze is the only way I can keep myself together.
“Come on. You’re not a virgin so don’t act so shy.”
His fingers creep all the way to my inner thigh and crawl higher.
Higher.
