Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I begin. “My name is Marissa.”
She stares with wide, cornflower blue eyes, and nibbles her fingernail, then jerks it out of her mouth. “Yvonne,” she says. “My name is Yvonne.” Then she drops her voice. “I think.”
Her confusion is a vivid reminder of where we are and what we’ve gone through, and it pains me. She doesn’t even know if this is her name.
“Is that what your master called you?” I ask. If I stay within familiar lines, I may not startle her.
She shakes her head and her eyes go even wider. “No,” she whispers. “I was only slave to him.” She wraps her arms around her chest and rocks back and forth. There are so many questions I have for her, so many things I want to say. It’s been so long since I’ve had real companionship from another woman, I don’t want to mess this up, but at the same time, if I push too hard or fast it could frighten her.
I turn from her, giving her space, and look around the room.
“Wow,” I breathe.
There are two adjoined bedrooms that share one large, massive bathroom. The cream-colored carpet is thick and plush, and it feels nice to walk on it as I make my way to the bathroom. I flick on the light, and overhead lighting brightness the room. There’s a large, oval-shaped vanity and marble sink, tiled floors, a massive jacuzzi in the center of the room, and a walk-in shower. Everything gleams beneath the lighting. It’s impeccably clean.
I open the cabinets and drawers and find every toiletry we could need, as well as full drawers of brand-new cosmetics, hair brushes, and anything I could want to doll myself up. I run my finger along the black edge of a flat iron and look around the room in awe. When I turn around from my perusal of the room in surprise, Yvonne stands in the doorway.
“This is… surprising to me,” I say.
“What is?” she asks, stepping into the bathroom and removing a luxurious towel from a shelf.
“This is… well the rooms are so fancy. It’s like staying at a luxury hotel.” And so, so very different from what we’ve experience for the past few months.
“Of course it is,” she says, her voice distance and pained. “It’s a luxury suite for whores.”
I blink. I’m so startled by what she says that at first I don’t respond.
“What?” I whisper.
Her pretty eyes look at me with curiosity.
“What did you think we were brought here for, Marissa? To cook their food?” She laughs, her voice hollow and empty. “They already have staff that do that.”
I leave the bathroom and go to the second bedroom. There’s a separate entryway door into this room, so both rooms, though adjoined, can be locked off from the other. The second room is decorated in darker colors than the first, in navy and burgundy and gold. The massive bed must be king-sized or greater, the furniture heavy and gleaming. I take in a deep breath and turn to Yvonne.
“Pick a room,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “I have no preference. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Her voice is still empty, hollow. The abuse we suffered was horrific, and I wonder if being near Nicolai somehow makes it easier for me to heal. But if we’re to be whores like she says… God.
I shiver and wrap my arms around my chest.
“So you don’t mind if I take the first room, then?” I prefer the lighter colors and brighter atmosphere to the darker room.
“Sure,” she says. She walks into the room, lies on the bed, and stares up at the ceiling. “I like this one.” She sighs. “For now.”
“Well, alright then,” I tell her, heading back into the bathroom. “I’ll, um, see you later?”
She’s still staring at the ceiling when she responds. “Later.”
I shut the door, then shut the bathroom door, too. She seems potentially sweet, but I don’t trust anyone but Nicolai. When I exit the shared bathroom, I lock my door. I’ll have to unlock it to get into the bathroom, but she can’t come back into my room now.
I walk back into the room and inspect every inch. There’s a bedside table, and when I pull open the drawer I find it empty. There’s a cozy couch in front of a fireplace, and a few soft throw blankets, and tucked in one corner is a tiny kitchenette, with a sink and a mini refrigerator.
I’m inspecting the closet when I hear someone’s hand on the doorknob. I freeze. Who would come in here? It could be anyone.
I step out of the closet, my heart hammering in my chest, when the door opens. I breathe out a sigh of relief as Nicolai steps in, shuts and locks the door behind him, then silently comes to me. I take off at a run and meet him halfway, crashing into him.