Chapter 16 #2
She squeezes my shoulder and nods, then reaches for the red scarf tied around the handle.
Blinded, I step into the room. The instant I cross the threshold, I feel it. A different vibe. The temperature is warmer. It makes my skin clammy.
“There you go.” Roxanne urges me forward until my knees connect with a soft surface. “You can have a seat. Your guest will be here shortly.”
As before, I expect it to be a sofa, so when the soft surface under me gives more than I’m used to, my heart rate skyrockets.
Not a sofa. A bed.
Roxanne’s heels echo on what must be a hardwood floor as she departs. Somewhere ahead, the door shuts, and the lock slides into place. Barely a moment later, I hear another door opening on the other side of the room.
My silent guest is here.
His steps sound lighter than usual. Hurried as he comes near. The different flooring must account for the variation in his gait.
The mattress beside me dips, slanting me toward the new occupant.
“Good evening.”
I tense at the quietly spoken words.
“Red becomes you.”
The voice isn’t deep. The tone is relaxed. Friendly even. Not at all how I imagined it after that strained, gravelly whispered show me. It throws me. After all this time waiting to hear it, do I like the sound of his voice?
A hand lands on my knee. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
My stomach feels like it’s in free fall. Something is wrong.
He… He is wrong.
I keep my back straight, my unseeing eyes focused right before me, while I try to keep my breathing under control.
He doesn’t feel like my silent guest. He doesn’t even smell the same.
I’m suffocating, choking on a heavy cologne, smoky and woodsy.
And also the lingering scent of an expensive cigar, an overpowering one that makes me want to cough. So…so wrong.
An alarm blares in my head.
It’s not him! It’s not my silent guest!
“So exquisite.” A touch of frantic energy infuses his voice.
Not him! Not him! Not him!
“Like a little doll.” Sickly sweet breath fans my neck.
Oh my God!
Palm. Gliding further up the inside of my thigh. Instinctively, I press my legs together. I know what I came here to do, but it’s as if my body doesn’t want to follow my rational thought. Everything inside me screams, NO! I can’t do this!
“Don’t do that.” He moves his hands between my thighs, prying them apart. “I’m trying, but my patience has limits.”
Wet, sticky tongue runs up my neck. The sensation makes me shudder, makes bile rise in my throat.
His palm presses against my breasts, pushing me until my back hits the bed.
A loud rip of fabric echoes through the room as he tears the skirt of my dress from the hem to my waist. Air rushes across my now exposed skin.
A scream gets lodged in my chest.
Fear grips me. My throat starts to close in. All of my muscles refuse to move.
I. Am. Frozen.
Grabby hands on my thighs again. Gliding up, and up. Then down. Dragging my panties along with them.
That terrified shriek erupts from my throat as I remain motionless, sprawled on the bed like petrified prey.
“Fuck.” Panting. Like an animal in heat. “Go ahead and scream, darling. I like it. This is a special room, so you won’t disturb anyone.”
Rustling of clothes.
A belt being undone.
“Holy shit, I’m already close.” More strained breaths.
A body covers mine, and his naked flesh makes my skin crawl.
I can’t breathe.
“Stop,” I cry.
“Too late for that now, pretty girl.”
I try to wriggle out from under him. “I… I can’t. I can’t do this. Please.”
“Enough!” Hands. Fisting my wrists. “I’m going to—”
I scream.
Just as a loud bang reverberates through the room, making the walls shake.
Heavy steps rush in. Coming closer.
“What the fuck?” An angry yell just above my head. “Who the hell—”
The weight holding me down suddenly disappears. Yanked off me by an overwhelming force.
In an instant, I feel relief. Then, a new fear. A new terror. The unknown.
What is happening?
A sob escapes me as I struggle to drag in air. Carefully, I sit up. Find my footing and climb off the bed.
Fear has me backing away. Instinct stops me from reaching for the blindfold. Whatever is happening in the room, whatever the strange sounds of gagging and thrashing are, I do not want to know. Do not need to witness.
A muffled wail.
A gasp.
Someone is fighting for breath. Failing.
It lasts for long seconds until it suddenly stops.
A thousand beats later, the way my heart is racing, there’s a thud. As if something heavy landed on the floor.
Absolute silence descends on the room, broken only by the sound of steps. Sure and even.
Approaching.
Coming to me.
I plaster my back and palms to the wall, steadying myself because my legs are ready to give out.
What is going on? Who is here? What do they want?
The scent of the ocean surrounds me.
Clean. Comforting. Calming.
I sag in relief.
It’s him.
He’s standing right in front of me. I know it, even though he hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t touched me. But I can feel him. Feel his warmth.
Tentatively, I reach out my hand. My fingers graze fine, smooth fabric. A pant leg. Over a muscular thigh.
“Please. Please get me out of here,” I whisper.
Two strong arms wrap around me, one sliding under my knees and the other around my back. He lifts me as if I don’t weigh anything at all.
As if they have a mind of their own, my arms wrap around his neck. My face finds protection at the soft juncture near his collar. I feel his rapid pulse against my cheek. Sense the tightness of his jaw as he holds me. Exhale as his arms tighten around me.
Cradling me close to his body, my silent guest turns and carries me out of the room. The steady drum of his footsteps on the hardwood floor gives way to muffled taps against the carpet.
Subtle brine. Faint trace of citrus. I lose myself in his soothing scent.
The adrenaline that sustained me is dropping. Leaving nothing but profound fatigue and shakiness behind. That only makes me snuggle up to this man even closer. A man I don’t know, but do.
A man I trust, having never seen his face. Having only heard a whisper from him.
He’s obviously a robust man. I can tell by his gait and his prowess. I can feel his strength in how he’s holding me, in the solidness of his chest, in the vigor of his arms. Arms that are so firm but gentle around me.
I should be freaking out.
What nearly happened… I should be panicked, but I’m not.
I know this man. Silent. Thoughtful. Respectful.
I’ve been locked in a room with him dozens of times in the past months. Never, not once, has he tried to hurt me. Without saying anything, he kept his word.
Even though he had countless opportunities to break it.
And no one would have ever known.
Or stopped him if they had.
This man is someone very powerful. Very important. It was clear as day from the way Maggie spoke about and to him. He likely could have done anything, whatever he wanted to do to me. Without repercussions.
The assurances that the hostess girls are safe behind the doors of the Annex are worthless. I experienced that delusion tonight. And yet, this man did not break my trust. A rare quality these days.
A muffled thump, and a gust of fresh air fills my lungs.
We’re outside.
The soles of his shoes fall heavily on the pavement. The night breeze is chilly, but I don’t feel cold. I’m wrapped in his warmth, with his strong arms around me. The heat of his body is the lifeline I need.
I’m jostled slightly as he bends to deposit me on a soft leather seat. I’m inside a car. The thought has barely had time to form when I’m being lifted again. This time, I’m set down on hard, muscular thighs. He’s got me on his lap. Still holding me.
I should protest. Say something. But that calming scent of an ocean breeze is already pulling me under. With my energy spent and fortitude long depleted, I slump against his broad, comforting chest.
Something soft gets draped over me. A jacket. Then, the car door latches softly, and the engine rumbles to life.
I close my eyes beneath the blindfold. He kept his promise; I will keep mine.
This man guards his privacy for a reason. But that didn’t stop him from rescuing me. And it won’t stop me from keeping him safe.
Even from me.
After all, I’ve been taught by the Mafia.
I know better than most what being a witness to a murder could mean.
***
“Miss?”
I startle awake.
“Miss, you’re home.”
I’m alone in the back of what appears to be a limo. My blindfold is gone. And so is the man who held me in his arms. Only his suit jacket remains, wrapped around me like a blanket.
I look around the darkened interior until my eyes connect with the driver’s through a rearview mirror.
“You’re home,” he repeats.
I glance outside, shocked to see my apartment building. How did I get here? How long was I out?
And then there’s the most pressing question of all.
Where did my silent guest disappear to?