12. Kim
12
KIM
Kim
“ G ood morning, Ms. Daniels.”
I groan as the room is suddenly bathed in light. My hand immediately flies to cover my eyes as I sit up.
“I thought I told you to call me Kim.”
“You’re right, I’m very sorry. Can I get you a tea?”
I shake my head. “Coffee. I want coffee.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Warwick doesn’t have coffee.”
“Did you tell him I wanted some?” I ask, rubbing my bleary eyes.
Kelsey doesn’t answer, she just walks into my closet and turns the light on. I hear the sound of hangers being moved a couple times, before she walks back out.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You are to bathe and get ready for the day.” Holding her arms out, she adds, “These will be your clothes.”
I swing my legs over the bed to inspect the clothes she picked out.
“Are you kidding me? Who wears this first thing in the morning? This dress is like, formal wear,” I complain, gesturing to the dress in her arms.
It’s long and dark red, and it looks like something some British royal would wear while walking around the royal gardens.
Kelsey just blinks at me, saying nothing in response. Typical. She only responds to me about half the time, making it perfectly clear who she’s loyal to.
He must pay her the good money.
I can’t think of any other reason why a woman would willingly do this to another woman. And since it doesn’t seem like she’s sleeping with him, that much I’ve pieced together, the only other option is money.
Well, that or blackmail.
“What happens after I’m ready?” I ask her.
She has this way of keeping her face blank that unnerves me a little. “You will be eating breakfast alone. Mr. Warwick had business to attend to.”
“How long do I have?” She usually gives me some sort of time limit.
“Forty minutes,” she replies.
“An hour and a half,” I counter.
Kelsey just stares at me. I roll my eyes, crossing my arms.
“I need more time. This hair doesn’t do itself.” I lift up a section of my hair for emphasis.
“Of course, Ms. Daniels. I understand. You may have one hour.”
I scoff. “Wow, an extra fifteen minutes, you’re so generous. And my name is Kim.”
She nods, setting the dress on a nearby ottoman. “I’m sorry, Kim. It’s just that the chef has been instructed to make your food at a certain time, and it’s my job to get you down there by then.”
“Can’t you ask them to delay it?”
She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no I can’t. They don’t take orders from me.”
“Ah. I see. Well then, I guess I better get started.”
I sigh, walking past her towards the adjoining bathroom.
“I can help you if you want. If it will go faster that way.”
I stop, turning halfway to look at her. “Excuse me?”
“My little sister, she was adopted. She had hair just like yours. I got some experience over the years helping her style it.”
“Had?” I question.
“Oh, she’s still alive,” she explains, her face growing sad. “I just don’t have contact with my family anymore, so I often refer to them in past tense.”
I lift a brow. “Why don’t you have contact with them? Because of Sam?”
“Oh, of course not. Sam- Mr. Warwick, I mean- he knows of my situation, but he has nothing to do with it. Well, he helps me so that I don’t ever have to see them again, but he isn’t the reason.”
“How does he help you?”
She smiles fondly. “By employing me. What other job lets you live in a beautiful house away from the rest of the world?”
I stare at her for a moment, my forehead scrunched down. This is the most she’s ever said, and I still can’t believe she told me half of what she did.
I have a million more questions for her, and I’m about to ask her one, but she starts walking to the door. When she reaches it, she turns around.
“I’ll hold the chef off for as long as I can,” she says.
Before I can respond, she’s gone.
I walk slowly to the bathroom, turning on the tub’s faucet absentmindedly. Something about that conversation has left me feeling… Well, I’m not really sure. But as I shower, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Sam helped this girl, who apparently has some kind of past which was bad enough that she’s willing to hide from it. And here of all places, in this horrible man’s mansion.
But how did they meet? And why would he help her? It just doesn’t make sense to me.
After doing my hair, I leave the bathroom. Dwelling on Kelsey’s situation is pointless, I doubt I’ll ever get those answers. So I push it out of my mind and slip on the undergarments that she left out for me, as well as the long red dress.
It’s absolutely stunning, every inch of it. It has thin straps on the shoulder, and it’s made of some fancy material that I’ve never even seen before, but it feels amazing on my skin. The dress is loose on my body, yet somehow perfectly shows off my curves.
“Are you ready?”
I jump at the voice, having not heard her enter the room. I turn around to see Kelsey standing in the doorway.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
She leads me downstairs, not that I need to be shown where it is. I’ve been here for almost three weeks now. I’m no stranger to this house.
When I get to the table, a dish is already sitting in front of my usual chair. Crepes, covered in powdered sugar, with strawberries and raspberries on the side. A glass of water sits beside it.
“Thank you,” I tell her. She nods before disappearing from the room.
Over the past two weeks, things have started to change around here. Sam has become increasingly controlling. Literally every single second of my day is controlled by him. What I eat and when, what I wear, what room I’m allowed to be in. And in his presence, he even regulates when I’m allowed to speak.
Every day, at least once a day, some expensive luxury gift is given to me, either by him, or left in my bed when I wake up or when I lift the comforter to go to sleep at night. Jewelry, lingerie, shoes, clothing. One time it was a pair of ice skates, though I don’t know when he expects me to be able to use those.
The gifts are incredible, of course. And they’re worth more money than my entire family has ever made combined. But they don’t make me hate it here any less.
They don’t make me hate him any less.
Just as I’m finishing up my breakfast, a loud slam echoes throughout the house. I stand up, backing towards the far corner of the room, away from the sound.
“Where is she?” a woman’s voice yells. “Hello?”
I see Kelsey run by the dining room doorway, looking flustered. A moment later, I hear her speak.
“Mrs. Warwick, I didn’t know you were visiting today.”
“My son is not expecting me. He’s not even here. I didn’t come to see him. I came to see her .”
“I’m sorry ma’am, who are you referring to?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mrs. Warwick says. As she continues to speak, her voice gets louder, like she’s getting closer. “I know she’s here.”
“Mrs. Warwick, I’m going to have to ask that you-”
“I’m going to stop you there, honey. You are not in charge of me. Now where…” she trails off as she enters the dining room and sees me.
I stand, completely frozen and unsure of what to do.
She marches over to me and looks me up and down. “Leave the room, Kelsey.” When Kelsey doesn’t move, she speaks again. “Now.”
Kelsey’s footsteps echo as she walks out and down the hall. Mrs. Warwick still hasn’t taken her eyes off of me. She sneers, before speaking with a lowered voice.
“Look, I don’t know what you did to my son to result in this behavior from him, but I’m not going to let him continue to be distracted. So here’s what’s going to happen. I will pay you two million dollars to leave the minute he gets tired of you. And believe me, he will.”
She pointedly looks at my hair, before scoffing at me. My blood is already boiling at this woman’s presence. It’s pretty obvious what she thinks of me, and she’s not doing anything to hide that.
“Two million dollars,” she repeats. She pulls a card out of her pocket and hands it to me. “Call that number and I will make sure you get paid. But only if you don’t encourage him. Let him get over this and then take the money and disappear. Don’t come after him; don’t go to the media. My son is going places, and you’re holding him up. He doesn’t belong with a girl like you, and he’ll see it soon enough.”
With one last dirty look, she marches out of the room. I’m left staring after her, wondering what the fuck just happened.
“Strip.”
I cross my arms and keep my feet planted.
“I didn’t see you yesterday,” I reply.
“I was busy. Now do what I said and strip.”
“Busy with what?”
“That isn’t information that you need to know. If you don’t take your clothes off right now, I’ll do it for you.”
“Your mother was here.”
Finally, his expression changes. His usual brick wall demeanor fades a little. “I heard. Did she mess with you?”
I start to answer, but stop myself. I’m not really sure I want him to know the details of what she said to me.
“She was pretty rude, yeah,” is all I say.
He presses his lips together, nodding his head. “I’ll take care of it. She won’t have access to you again. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“You two don’t get along?”
His eyes snap to mine and he stands up, crossing the room. We’re in a dressing room of sorts in his mansion. One I’ve grown accustomed to.
“You’re doing a lot of talking. I don’t recall giving you that permission.”
“I don’t recall asking for it.”
He freezes. I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I don’t care. I want him to react to it. I want him to be as angry as I am at this situation.
But he doesn’t give me that. No, what he does is much worse than anger.
Sam turns around and sits back down on the rounded ottoman in the middle of the room. He says nothing, just looks at me.
And waits.
I know immediately that this is going to be a long night. The two of us are equally stubborn. I’ve now turned this into a game. A game where he waits for me to obey, and I stand here for as long as possible, not moving.
A game that we both know he’s going to win.