Chapter Fourteen
Chloe
“This will be your room,” the elderly maid, Clarisse, informed me as we entered, closing the door behind us.
She was around her seventies. Short and slim, she had sweet eyes suggesting a lifetime of gentle smiles.
She smelled like fresh bread, which was oddly comforting.
Her traditional black and white maid’s uniform with the laced white apron around her waist felt like something from another era.
I couldn’t believe people still wore that to work.
“You have your own fireplace, a private bathroom, and a full closet at your service,” she explained, walking around, gesturing to each one. “Not too bad, yes?”
Despite her age, she had admirable energy. But I couldn’t take it all in. Instead, I perched myself on the edge of what felt like a bed, feeling like a ghost lingering in time, numb and overwhelmed.
My hands clutched Zane’s jacket tightly, desperate for comfort. I stared at my feet, dirty and sore from the heels I’d worn all night, feeling more a prisoner than a guest, which was exactly what he’d turned me into. A prisoner.
Suddenly, another pair of feet appeared in my line of sight. I looked up to see Clarisse standing above me. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”
I wasn’t sure how she managed to move me from the bed to the bathroom when I could barely feel my legs anymore.
My body followed hers on instinct, like I’d left myself behind somewhere between the cell and the car.
She flipped on the light, revealing the neatest bathroom I had ever seen.
White marble tiles, spotless counters, an in-built bathtub with a massive shower stretching from wall to wall behind it.
But none of it mattered when the only thing I could focus on was the image of myself staring back in the mirror. My heart sank. I looked… awful.
My hair had turned into a rat’s nest, and the remnants of my eye makeup had smeared, highlighting the dark circles under my eyes. The combination made me look as though I hadn’t slept in weeks, and the rest of my face was just dirt and bruises.
Then my gaze dropped to my hands again. The dried blood sent a violent jolt through me, triggering flashes of horrific events unfolding over the past days.
“It’ll feel better soon. You’ll see,” Clarisse murmured gently as she moved to the bathtub to turn on the water.
Her voice sounded distant but warm, like a dream that brought me comfort.
The time and space stopped making any sense.
I was missing pieces of the conversation, seconds that weren’t registering, my body felt too heavy to command.
Maybe it was the panic, maybe the adrenaline crash, maybe the fact I hadn’t slept in what felt like a century.
Or maybe I really was losing my mind, and the thought didn’t even scare me anymore.
I just didn’t care. All I wanted was to sink into that water and disappear before whatever was waiting for me next had a chance to even begin.
The warm steam curled around us, and Clarisse stepped close again, helping me out of the clothes that I barely felt against my skin. I didn’t even care that she was seeing me naked. I’d been naked for strangers too many times to care.
At least this time, it was a woman. Someone gentle.
“Easy,” she whispered, guiding me into the tub.
The moment my body sank beneath the warm water, I welcomed the sensation and it enveloped me like the hug I so desperately needed. The tension I’d been holding since the club—the fear, the terror, the tight coil in my chest—finally loosened enough for my lungs to feel like they were working again.
Clarisse dipped a sponge into the water and brought it to my face, her movements slow and soothing. Then my arms and hands, scrubbing carefully around the dried blood, avoiding the sore spots, her touch steady even when my hands trembled.
At some point, she guided me out of the tub, wrapped a warm towel around my shoulders, hating how that felt nice, and I was back in the bedroom. The cream carpet muffled my steps as I sat on the edge of the mattress.
The bath indeed helped, my body was less heavy, thoughts were forming again, and I was slowly starting to feel like myself.
Clarisse started brushing my hair and let my eyes wander around for the first time.
It was larger than expected, and mostly decorated in white tones, from the delicate wallpaper on the walls to the furniture, adorned with golden details gleaming softly in the light.
There were two doors on the left wall, one for the bathroom and another for what I imagined to be the walk-in closet the maid had mentioned.
In the center stood the massive bed large enough for four people.
It was a room made for a princess. Too bad I was trapped in a horror story, not a fairytale.
Still, it was better than being shoved into that freezing cold cell again.
“You must be really scared, but a word of advice,” Clarisse began, moving the strands of hair away from my face. “Watch your mouth and do what you’re told around here. These men aren’t patient, and you don’t want to see them angry.”
I frowned. “And you’re okay knowing that?”
Her gaze dropped as she retrieved her hands from my hair.
“Please, you need to help me, I did nothing wrong.” My voice cracked as I pleaded for the first time, needing her to see I wasn’t the threat they believed I was.
“If you did nothing wrong, there’s nothing to worry about,” she replied as she grasped my hand in hers trying to calm me. “Zane may have a lot of faults, but he’s a fair man.”
I pulled my hand back violently, jolting her off. “How can you say that?” I snapped, making her eyes widen. “He’s keeping me here against my will, and I don’t know why! You call that fair?”
She looked at me as if I was the crazy one in the room and then scurried out, shutting the door behind her probably sensing I was seconds away from snapping at her.
The moment the door clicked, a wave of rage surged within me. I circled the bed, pacing like a caged animal and snatched the first thing I could grab from the nightstand and threw it at the door. It shattered on impact, like all my hopes.
“Everyone here is sick!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, letting everything out.
But the silence following my scream was deafening.
A deep sigh escaped. I wasn’t sure who I was more pissed at, if Zane or myself.
Myself, for not seeing the warning signs.
I could smell dangerous men from miles away, and Zane was precisely that type.
Yet I’d let him in, allowed him to crawl under my skin and infiltrate my thoughts. I should’ve seen it coming.
No one was going to help me here. I’ll have to help myself.
My gaze snapped toward the tall windows next, tall and rectangular, each pane of glass separated by thin strips of lead, curious to know what I could see from up here, but I was quickly disappointed.
All I could see was a sea of thick trees stretching endlessly, the woods surrounding the property so dense it didn’t look like we were in New York at all, although I knew we were.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, breathing shallowly.
I didn’t know how, but I had to find a way out before learning all the ways Zane or his men planned to use their cruelty on me.
I had to survive this.
I tried both windows but neither seemed to open, and for a fleeting moment, the thought of breaking the glass and jumping crossed my mind.
But even if I managed to shatter it without alerting anyone, the drop was far too high; I probably wouldn’t survive it, and if by some chance I did, it wouldn’t be without breaking a few bones.
That was not how I hoped to leave this place.
I moved back into the bathroom next, tearing through every door and drawer, hoping to find something I could use to defend myself, but all I found was toilet paper, a few travel-sized containers with soap, and a single toothbrush.
So I opened the same drawers and looked again, desperation taking over, so desperate, I didn’t realize when the tears started falling.
My knees hit the marble floor, and I let myself sink down. My hands trembled uncontrollably while dizziness started to cloud my head again. I tried to breathe harder, to force myself to stay focused, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling.
I cried until there was nothing left, until the exhaustion outweighed the panic, and I could finally push myself back to my feet.
I wiped my hand across the foggy mirror.
The dirt on my face was gone, but now the red bruises stood out more.
My eyes and lips were swollen from crying, my nose red from the same.
I needed a plan.
If Zane was truly as fair as the maid claimed, then maybe I just had to show him I was worth listening to.
I needed to know exactly who I was dealing with and if there was even the smallest chance of getting through to him, then... I’d take it.