Chapter Forty-One #2
I’ve never known him to be more than a human-shaped chunk of indifference…
Recalling that I’m still wearing only my robe, I adjust it to make sure it’s not hanging open even a little. Blinking at him, watching him watching me.
“You do look like her, you know?” He rumbles. My spine stiffens. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before…”
I feel the color drain from my face. Rushing up to the bars that separate us, I grab the brass in my fists. “You’ve seen my sister?” He stares, and I growl, “Answer me. Please… I deserve to know where she is. If she’s okay…”
He takes in a breath, chest rising and falling, too slowly. “It’s not my place. I’m sure he’ll tell you… When he’s ready.”
My jaw sets. “Fuck him. I want to talk to my sister, goddammit!”
He lifts his shoulder in a noncommittal way. I want to bash him in the face with this sterling silver tray. “We’ve lost her again. She’s a slippery one… Like you.” His dark eyes hold mine. “A master of camouflage.”
I keep staring at him, attempting to decode the ominous riddle of his words. I’m just praying Avianna is okay.
Free, and living on her own terms. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.
If we can’t be together again, then I just need to know she’s safe and happy.
Kent turns to leave, but I call after him, “Hey… can I ask you something?”
He faces me again, head slanting as an opening for my question.
I’m not sure why I’m engaging with him, and I’m not foolish enough to believe he’d reveal anything to me, but call it my morbid curiosity. After being here for so long…
And getting all kinds of freaky with his colleagues.
“Does he… know? What Ari… did?” I clear my throat. “What I did, I mean. What I got up to… as her.” I gulp at the ghost of amusement on his stone face. “Is he aware of Nestor, and the guards? Like… has he seen it?”
I can feel myself making that uneasy emoji face, but his expression is minor at best. Barely visible humorous condescension. It doesn’t placate me one bit.
“I think you know the answer,” he grumbles pointedly, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.
To think that Manuel Blanco might not know something… Have you gone mad?!
I blink. “Oh. Okay… Well, I just figured that if he knew, he might…”
“Kill people?” Kent finishes my thought.
Well, I was trying not to say it, but…
“It’s good. That he’s not, you know… freaking out.” I chew vigorously on my lower lip, picking at my fingernail.
When I peek at him, he’s sort of smirking. It’s very subtle, but I think it’s the look someone would give you if they could totally tell you’re a little disappointed that the guy you like isn’t murdering people for touching you.
“Shut up, Kent,” I mutter, and he huffs. “How did you not know that the person he had you all out searching for was here all along?”
“Guess we were distracted.” He winks at me, tapping the bar with his knuckles before sauntering away.
Shaking my head, I bring my dinner over to the table. But his words stick with me, all throughout my lonely meal. As delicious as it is, it doesn’t distract from these hectic thoughts.
Distracted…
The Ivory said he was distracted by me. Is it possible that he was so distracted trying to find me that he completely overlooked me right under his nose?
Not that I think I’m the only thing going on in his life… He has a lot to be distracted by.
Like Velle, for one.
That strange, tight tickle appears in my stomach again, the one I felt watching Velle kneel at The Ivory’s feet. I won’t be a simpleton and say it’s jealousy, because I hate how that sounds. But it could be something adjacent.
I wonder what Velle would think if he knew I was here…
Would he think I’m stupid for missing The Ivory? Or would he be the one person to empathize?
That’s one positive that’s come from him disappearing for days. I’ve been thoroughly un-distracted.
It’s a good thing, I keep reminding myself while I finish my food.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it…
Once I’m done, I finally decide to get dressed. Digging through the dresser, I’m marveling at all the stylish garments, and I decide to play dress-up instead.
Life-sized Barbie that I am.
There’s quite the variety in here, and I still don’t get it. Either Ivory knew Ari was me, which he claims he didn’t, or he was prepared to kidnap the intruder regardless of who she was, and all of this was done, not for my benefit, but for the benefit of some mystery girl.
I’m not sure why the latter bugs me so much, but it does. I’d gotten myself used to believing he did this for me. Stocked this place with amenities he thought I’d like, and as creepy as it is, it pleased me.
Sure, that makes me a moron, but I’d rather be moronically swooning over el diablo for wanting to kidnap me than swooning over him when all he wanted was to kidnap someone.
He said the cage was made for me, in hopes he would one day get me back. Am I to believe he knew I wanted to dress like a girl before I even did??
Ugh. I’m sick of defending him in my mind, but I’m more sick of dissecting his behaviors. I’ve been doing it since long before I even met him, and it’s exhausting… As if he behaves in any way like a normal person.
He’s a monster. I’m well aware of this. It’s more fitting for him to behave like the ultimate cold-blooded reptile man than for him to care about stuff.
Sifting through soft fabrics, a few things catch my eye, like a lavender-purple lace thong.
Lace is my jam, though admittedly I’ve never tried a thong before.
This one doesn’t look like it’ll be great at helping me keep things in place, but that’s not an issue right now, since I’m not going anywhere.
So I slip out of my robe and step into the panties.
It’s still weird at first, changing out in the open, being that the bars of this cage give you exactly zero privacy. I could go into the bathroom… But it’s unnecessary. No one’s ever around in here. I’m all by myself.
And that notion gives me a boost of confident thrill. Next thing I know, I have on thigh-high stockings—the ones he gave me the other day—a garter belt that looks so cute on me, and a silk skirt that seems more like a slip than an actual skirt, not that it matters in fashion.
Shit, celebrities wear designer nightgowns to events all the time. If it’s Prada or Versace, you wear that bitch out.
The stockings feel good, and they look good. My legs are long and smooth, skin baby-soft from the bath. Finally, this flowy spaghetti strap top that I can pull off well with my frame, and the outfit is complete.
Ari has arrived.
Sure, I’m missing the fake boobs, and the makeup, but I don’t think I need those things.
I don’t need it to feel good about how I look.
And honestly, this part of my identity seems less about looking or dressing as a conventional female than it is simply feeling comfortable with myself.
Liking the way I look and feel, just being me, without concern for the gender constraints of society.
I really don’t want to give The Ivory credit for helping me with any of this clarity, but I can’t deny that I wouldn’t be here, doing this if it weren’t for him.
“It’s not your fault, beautiful. It’s everyone else. If they don’t understand you, it’s because they’re not meant to…”
Something about The Ivory’s desire to figure me out feels different than anything I’ve gotten from other people as Ari…
Because it’s him.
Oh God. Let’s not do this.
Choosing to focus on anything else, I twirl around my birdcage, humming one of my favorite songs. Ojitos Lindos by Bad Bunny.
“It’s just me and you, sis,” I tell Avia the sparrow, smoothing my hands over my waist. “Dos pajaritos muy mala.”
Snickering, I peer at her. I’m sure she’s trying to sleep, but it’s fine. She’ll get over it.
“See? I have enough to fill this out.” I cup my chest. “It still looks good, verdad? I actually like the size of my chest the way it is, ya know?”
Fluffing out my hair, I go to the en suite to check the mirror, calling to Avia from inside. “Perfecta. The only things I’m missing are the heels, and maybe some jewelry. I don’t necessarily need it, but ya girl could do with something sparkly, me sientes…”
Practicing my Ari walk out of the en suite, I nearly crash right into a wall.
“Mm, te siento,” the deep voice croons as black eyes assess me through the bars. His gaze dips. “Heels, and some sparkle.”
I’m burning alive. My first instinct is to turn around, run back into the bathroom and hide. I’m not sure why… This knee-jerk reaction to recoil in shame doesn’t feel good. It binds my stomach in knots.
Not to mention, it’s unnecessary. He’s seen me as Ari twice now. He knows what I look like, and judging by his praises the other day, and what he did to Ari, he’s a fan.
The Ivory is standing outside the cell, staring. Gawking, even. His eyes are definitely shining with severe appreciation for my appearance.
But he’s a big jerk, and we hate him, remember??
“If you start buying me diamonds, I’ll scream,” I mutter, attempting to regain the sassy confidence that seemingly ran away when he showed up. “What are you…” I clear my throat, and, like an instinct, my voice gets deeper. “What do you want?”
The Ivory snaps out of it, his eyes springing to mine, brow furrowed. It’s highly frustrating.
I haven’t seen him since we had this incredibly intense encounter, after which he claimed he’d be back. Now here he is, days later, expecting to what? Just show up and get laid?
Ha! Fat chance.
Maybe Angel would allow such things, but I’m in Ari wardrobe right now. And Ari isn’t going to stand for that.
She only sluts around when it’s convenient for her.
I’m shifting in place, subtly backing toward the en suite as The Ivory pulls out his key and opens the cell, stalking inside. He doesn’t stop there, though. He walks right up to me, reaching out like he wants to touch my face or my hair.
I jerk away, and he frowns.
“Qué te pasa?” His voice rumbles.