Chapter 24 The Dress Rehearsal
THE DRESS REHEARSAL
EMERY
In another life, I could have been an actress.
It’s not hard for me to play ill. My whole life has been a dress rehearsal.
A cold is easy to mimic. A couple of coughs here, a few sneezes there.
As I rub my eyes with my knuckles, creating the perfect illusion of ailment, my ears tune in to the hushed conversation outside the door.
"I have to go away for two days,” Simone says. “I'll be back before the deadline at noon.”
"You're always leaving,” Toni whispers, and even through two inches of wood, I can hear her disappointment. “Where are you going?"
There's a plea in her voice, a desperate need for reassurance. It almost makes me feel bad for her. But it works in my favor. She’s submissive to Simone. So, when I, so sad and weak and in need of help, reach out to her as if she’s a goddess, she’s no longer on the bottom.
I am.
And she eats that shit right up.
Simone sighs. "You need to trust me, Toni. It's better if you don't know everything."
Toni's veiled frustration turns to anger. "Trust you? How can I trust you when you keep leaving me in the dark?" There’s silence for a moment. “Call me, at least.”
Shuffling sounds from the other side of the door, and I press myself farther into the dark corner of the mattress, my breath caught in my throat. The door creaks open, revealing a sliver of their figures in the hallway.
Simone peers into the basement, her gaze darting toward me. "Keep her alive, Toni. We need to send at least one more video."
I swallow. One more video until they kill me? Or will they wait until the funds are received to do the deed? I’m hoping for the latter. That still gives me forty-eight hours to escape. Simone’s departure is a blessing from the universe. One less hurdle to leap over.
The foundation creaks as Simone leaves the basement and heads up the stairs. Toni hovers by the door, her expression unsettled. I give her a moment to be in her emotions, and then I release a string of dry coughs, beckoning her over like a silly fucking moth.
“Damn it,” Toni sighs, rushing over to the kitchenette.
She pours me another cup of hot tea, this time stirring in a tablespoon of organic honey.
I suppose if I had to get kidnapped by someone, Toni’s not that bad.
Although, I’m starting to think she wasn’t the mastermind behind this plan.
Kidnapping and extortion scream Simone. Toni walks over to me, careful not to spill the tea.
She holds it out. “Here. Drink it while it’s hot. ”
“Thank you,” I whisper, taking a small sip. “Mmm. It’s good.” I glance up at her, drawing my brows together. “Are you okay? I heard you guys…” I look away. “Does she leave you often?”
Toni clears her throat as she steps away from me. “That’s none of your business.” She turns around and heads toward her computer desk. Damn it. The clock is ticking. I can’t have her ignoring me.
“Have you…” I set the tea aside as I prop myself up and perch on the edge of the mattress. “Have you always been a hacker?”
With a loud sigh, Toni slumps down in the computer chair and spins toward me, ankle hiked over her thigh. “You are interested in my career?”
I shrug. “I suppose I am. I’ve never… I’ve never met someone like you before.”
She lifts a brow. “Perhaps that’s a good thing, Emery Jones. It means you live a normal life. And despite what people may say, normal is not bad.”
I swallow. “But I’m not normal, am I? If I were normal, then we wouldn’t have met in the park that day. Normal people don’t hire hackers to break into their company’s secured servers.”
Toni narrows her eyes. “Did you ever find what you were looking for?”
“No,” I lie. “I’m also left in the dark.” I glance toward the exit door. “Just like you.”
Toni stares at me, her gaze so deep and eerily soulful that a shiver zaps my spine.
Toni hisses under her breath and stands up.
“You need to stay warm.” She walks over to a stand-alone wardrobe and retrieves a blanket and a large jacket.
She hesitates for a moment, staring into the wardrobe, and then pulls a small jar off the shelf before she strides toward me. “Rub this on your chest.”
I rein in a rush of excitement. While under normal circumstances, medicinal ointment isn’t very sexy, tonight…it might just be the perfect aphrodisiac.
But…if I ask Toni to rub it on me, that would be way too obvious. I’ll have to do it myself. And give her a hell of a show. With a small, meek nod, my eyes meet Toni's, and I take the jar from her hand. Her jaw tightens as soon as our fingers touch.
With deliberate slowness, I open the jar and dip two fingers inside, deciding to test just how easily she’ll bite the bait.
My gaze remains locked with Toni's as I stretch the neckline of the T-shirt, revealing skin, my chest rising with anticipation.
If she looks away, my plan might not work.
But if she stares, if she watches, then I might win after all.
Much to my satisfaction, Toni's eyes follow my movements, and there’s an undeniable shift in her posture.
I swirl my fingers in the minty smooth ointment, and sensually spread the gel over my chest. The cold draft collides with the peppermint, and I release a barely audible moan.
She hears it, though. Of course, she does. It was tailored to her ears.
Silence falls over the room, and all I can hear is Toni's breath catching. I continue the slow, careful circles, my skin tingling under the touch of my own hand. I take my time, ensuring every inch of my skin is lathered and covered. My nipples harden, and if Toni stares any harder at my breasts, my shirt might catch fire. But I’m not the one that’s going to be burned.
I close my eyes, and continue luring her into my trap.
I’m not the moth.
She is.
When I open my eyes, Toni's gaze is locked on me, an intensity, a hunger, that I haven’t seen before.
I stifle a wide smile, playing my part perfectly, innocently, as if I could do no wrong.
Whatever lines were drawn between us, between captor and hostage, are blurring.
Day by day. Hour by fucking hour. It’s perfect.
The rules are shifting. Changing. Leaning away from hostility and toward her need to swallow me whole. Little does she know I’m a poison.
But no one expects poison to taste so good.
I place the jar to the side, my chest glistening. Every one of her muscles is tense, strained, almost as if she’s fighting against the desire to lurch toward me and attack me like a vicious beast. Feigning ignorance, I lower the T-shirt and blink up at her.
“Should we do my back?” I ask, breathy and knowing.
Her jaw ticks, but without a word, Toni reluctantly agrees. “Turn around.”
Come to me, my little moth.
Silently, I comply, lifting the T-shirt over my head. I sense Toni's hesitation. A moment passes before her palm makes contact between my shoulder blades. An involuntarily gasp escapes my throat. Mmm. She has nice hands.
I lean into her touch, a calculated move to draw her further into my web. Toni's hands move with a certain stiffness. She’s uncomfortable. We can’t have that. Harder. I need to try harder.
With every touch, I expel soft moans as if I’m under her spell. Each sound is carefully crafted to entice her, to create a connection. To show her that she means something. That this means something. Because it does—my survival.
"You're really good with your hands," I whisper, low and suggestive. Toni stiffens. I ignore her hesitation. The show must go on. The show will go on. "In another life, you could have been a masseuse."
The silence in the basement is damn near deafening, and I rein in a satisfied smirk.
I’ve got her right where I want her—uncertain, frustrated, confused.
And I want her to be confused. I want roles and expectations to become fluid, shift and morph into pieces of my brilliant plan in action.
A plan that seems to be working. A plan that must work.
Toni continues to massage the gel into my skin, her touch becoming less rigid as if she's succumbing to the inevitable. I let out another soft moan, this time more genuine. Raw.
“You need to stop making those little noises, bella,” Toni grunts.
She can’t see it but I smile. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It’s just… It’s nice to be touched. Down here… I feel so alone sometimes.” I crane my neck over my shoulder. “I know it’s silly, ‘cause it’s you but…” I swallow “In moments like this, I don’t feel as scared as I should be.”
Toni frowns. “You have no reason to be scared, Emery Jones. Once we are paid, you will be free. You will continue to live your very normal life. I will not hurt you.”
I contain my own confusion, not letting it seep into my facial expressions.
If she’s lying, I can’t tell. Everything in her tone indicates that she’s being honest, that she doesn’t have plans to hurt me, to kill me.
Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe Simone hasn’t been entirely truthful with her plan.
Objectively, killing me would make the most sense.
I’m a witness. I know their names. I know what they look like.
As long as I’m alive, they’ll always be on edge.
Interesting.
“I’m done,” Toni says, pulling down my T-shirt. Immediately, she grabs the jacket and slings it over my shoulders. “I will find you pants and socks later today.” I slowly turn around, facing her. She grabs the mug, shoving it into my hands. “If you get pneumonia, Emery Jones, you can die.”
I lift a brow. “You did research on my condition.”
She swallows. “As I said, my intention is not for you to leave here dead.”
I tilt my head. “Unless you don’t get paid. Then I’ll be dead.”
Her posture stiffens. “The doctor will pay. I know he will.”
“You can’t know that,” I counter, slightly combative. “People are fickle, Toni. Whether you like to admit it to yourself or not, but you’re betting my life on a man you yourself have called greedy and corrupt. If he pays,” I hitch a shoulder, “perhaps he’s not as greedy as you think.”
Her lip twitches. “See, that is the problem with the wealthy. They do not care about the deaths of people they do not know. They do not care about the unseen pain they cause. If they personally do not feel it, if they do not see it, then to them it does not exist. But you…” She reaches out, cupping my cheek.
Her voice falls to a low, raspy timbre. “You exist, Emery Jones. To the doctor, you are very much real. Your pain is real. Your life is real. And he has a very real chance of losing you. And so, I am very confident that he will pay.” She pulls away from me.
“Perhaps not even to stop your pain but to avoid his own.”
The truth of her words bites at me, and my heart sinks. “Maybe you’re right,” I say, genuinely considering her logic.
“Do not look so sad, bella,” Toni says, gaze flitting across my face. “Trust me, you will soon be safe.”
I offer her a warm smile and whisper in a tone so submissively sweet that it sticks to her bones like a cancer, “I trust you, Toni. I do.”