Wrapping the covers around me, her mouth stretches into a friendly smile. I know it’s her way of attempting to calm me by her sudden appearance.
“Good morning.” Well, at least she’s more polite than Milton. “My name is Ms. Calderway, but you may call me Lisa if you wish. Mr. Hood wants me to accompany you back to Stonehill. I have new clothes for you to wear.”
Lifting her arm, she showcases a white paper bag, likely expecting a thank you. I’d rather poke out my eye than thank her for getting me new clothes to replace the ones Milton destroyed. “Where’s Milton gone?”
“A meeting.” She smiles again, setting the bag on the end of the bed. This time, her lips hide something, and I immediately pick up the sense that perhaps she heard what he was doing to me just minutes before her appearance. “I will wait outside for you while you change. The shower is just through that door if you wish to take one.” She points somewhere behind me. “Then we will be on our way.”
After she leaves, I crawl to the end of the bed and pick up the bag. Peering inside, I scoff as I pull out a new set of Stonehill attire; the gray a little darker than my last ones, the fabric not as faded. At the very bottom are a pair of black panties and a matching bra, a tiny bit of lace trimming around the hem.
They’re nice. Better quality than the ones I have on, and I know it’s on purpose to embarrass me.
Climbing out of bed, groaning from the twinges of discomfort, I glance over in the direction Lisa had mentioned. A shower would be nice. Going inside a spacious bathroom, gold against black marble, I shuffle over to the large walk-in shower and switch it on.
Sighing as the spray hits my hand, I wait for the water to heat before stripping and stepping under the pressured spray. I sigh, not caring about my bandages getting wet as water cascades over my body, warming me. Making me feel like a fucking human.
Spotting a loofah and a bar of soap that smells like perfumed perfection, I rub suds into my skin, wincing as I rub between my legs.
Fuck Milton Hood.
After rinsing, I get a towel off the rack to dry myself and then get dressed. Lisa returns just as I’m putting on my sneakers, knocking on the door again before entering. “Are you ready?”
Nodding, I step out of the room, coldness impaling me when I come face to face with that door. The room Milton had me strapped to a bed for hours was opposite me all this time.
Heading back through the red tunnels, I trail after Lisa, soon reaching the foyer with the three arches. Not stopping, she goes straight for the door and opens it. When sunlight hits my face, my eyes sting. Although it’s sunny, it’s not warm. I shiver, spotting the car Milton used last night waiting for us.
Memories of him shoving me up against the side of it prod my mind, and I hate that my stomach dips at the thought of it. Of him.
As Lisa opens the back door for me, I peer over my shoulder at the imposing monstrosity behind me. Even in daylight, it’s an enormous, ugly beauty, harboring secrets I don’t think it wise to ever find out. Climbing into the car, I avoid eye contact as Lisa gets into the front and peels out of the driveway. Driving back through the isolated roads Milton took last night, my surroundings only become recognizable as we go over Fairdell Bridge. As the familiar buildings, half obscured beneath low misty clouds, come into view, it starts raining again, droplets slanting against the window as we make our way through the congestion of rush hour. Until, finally, we arrive back at Stonehill. My stomach coils at being back, wishing Milton had decided the best form of revenge was actually putting me out of my misery.
After getting out of the car, Lisa walks ahead, carrying a briefcase I didn’t notice her having before. We pass security without question and then get into the elevator. Punching the second-floor button, we ascend, and once the doors slide open, we go down the corridor to the very end where my room is.
Lisa goes inside and I linger in the doorway, watching as she places the briefcase on the desk. Extracting a packet of documents and a pen from inside, she spreads them out neatly on the surface and turns to me. “I have a few things for you to sign,” she tells me then.
“What is it?”
“A non-disclosure agreement. It needs to be signed for your relationship with Mr. Hood to continue. Everything is written down if you want to read, which might be wise. The clauses are quite specific.”
“He wants me to sign a gag order?”
Her forehead creases. “We don’t call it that. Did he not explain his desire for you to sign?”
“No.” He seemed to have left that out entirely while he was torturing me. My wrists sting beneath the bandages, unable to believe this is happening, that he wants to put a muzzle on me after everything he’s done to me.
“I’m sure he meant to. Nonetheless, by signing, you agree to not speak a word about your time spent with him and anything to do with Club X. It’s non-negotiable. My client leads a diverse life.” She shifts her weight onto the other heel when I still don’t move. “Look, I don’t ask questions. But if I can offer you any kind of security, other women have signed, and everything has been absolutely fine.”
There’s so much wrong with what she said that I don’t know what to process first.
It slowly dawns on me that maybe this woman doesn’t have a clue about the events that played out between myself and
