Déjà-fucking-vu.
Everything appears the same, the last rays of daylight streaming through the large windows, creating a haze of welcome and warmth—what a lie.
Someone approaches me from behind. “Hello, Miss Adams,” Lisa says, a weird friendly smile in place, considering the last time we were in each other’s company, I’d been somewhat threatening. “If you would follow me. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Where’s Milton?” I wonder.
“Attending to a last-minute matter.” Taking me into the office, she retrieves two black boxes from a cabinet; one bigger than the other and tied together with a blood-red ribbon. Placing them down on the desk, she hands me an envelope before leaving and shutting the door.
My scalp prickles. Annoyed by the secrecy, I rip it open and pull out a piece of white card.
If you want to be part of my world, then you must look the part. — M
Dropping the note, I untie the ribbon and slip the lid off the larger box first. Pulling back the white tissue inside reveals neatly folded black fabric. Lifting it by its straps, I take a small step back as the skirt billows to the floor, revealing a V-neck floor-length chiffon gown.
My lips part in shock and awe, having never seen a dress like it in my life. It’s beautiful and elegant, and now I’m nervous. Because I know a pretty garment like this one would be worn to visit the devil. Inside the next box is a pair of black heels, a sprinkle of diamonds along the strap to go with the dress.
If you want to be part of my world, then you must look the part.
Inhaling a deep breath, I strip my clothes and slip into the gown. As I pull the straps up over my shoulders, I’m surprised by how well it fits. I can’t help admiring the daring slit at the midthigh of the flowy skirt after putting on the shoes. It’s a shame that it’s like dressing a second-hand doll in a new outfit. I’m every bit a knockoff.
A thump on the door signals Lisa’s return, and when she enters, the smile is still intact. “Did the dress and shoes fit to your liking?” All I can do is nod. “Very good. You will be meeting with Mr. Hood in a little while. We have a stop to make beforehand.”
Again. So secretive.
We go back into the private lot, and a car with a driver is waiting for us. My teeth chatter, the wintery breeze biting as I climb into the back of the car as Lisa gets in the other side.
Once the car begins moving, she presents another box, this one significantly smaller. “Milton insists you put this on.”
I’ve seen the box before, knowing the X ring resides inside. My new shackle. Maybe putting it on is some sort of test that makes everything final. Sighing deeply, I open the box, and there it sits, shiny and unsightly. “He really loves his rings.”
I slip it on my index finger. A perfect fucking fit.
The car stops in front of a beauty salon. I think it’s a joke at first, and I almost laugh. Unhinged Heidi gets to be Cinderella for a day. Following Lisa inside, the salon is spacious—gleaming white floors and walls. “Why am I here?” I question, conscious of the eyes watching me.
Ignoring my question, Lisa steps forward to address a young woman behind the counter. “Hi, can I help you?” she asks brightly.
“An appointment with Bethany.”
“She’s with a client at the moment—”
“Then I insist you interrupt,” she interjects, the request sounding more urgent with her accent.
Picking up the phone, she mumbled a few rushed words in it, cheeks flushed red. “Terribly sorry. She’s on her way,” she says when she hangs up.
Seconds later, a woman bursts through a set of doors. “Lisa. My apologies for having kept you waiting.” If this woman is Bethany, then she reminds me of a funky grandma. She’s older, in her fifties maybe, with short white hair, the tips colored pink. Light blue eyes rimmed with pink eyeshadow flutter in my direction, shaped eyebrows rising with surprise. “Oh my…this one isn’t like his usual.”
“Bethany,” Lisa sighs.
Walking forward, she takes my hand in hers. The directness makes me instantly uncomfortable. “Can I simply not compliment a woman? You are beautiful. What’s your name?”
“Heidi,” I answer before Lisa can get a word in. She seethes behind me.
“You weren’t supposed to say your name. Milton—”
“Lisa, relax,” Bethany cuts her off, putting her arm around my shoulder. “Go sit down and put your feet up. I will send Carly over with a mimosa.” She turns back to me. “Now come with me. I promise you will blow his mind once I’m done with you.”
Blow Milton’s mind? I can’t help the snort, and she glances at me questioningly. “It’s not like that.”
“Riiight,” she winks, not believing me. Keeping hold of my hand, we enter a different room. Siting me in the chair, she gets to work right away, twisting my hair up into pin curlers in silence. She works like this for a while until I can’t help the question burning my tongue. “What did you mean about me not being his usual?”
“You caught that, huh?” she says, giggling a little. “Well, for starters, I’ve never been sent a blond before by that man. And an absolutely stunning one at that. Not to say the others weren’t pretty—but they were pretty plain if you ask me. Quiet. Timid. Not a word out of them. And I mean not a single word. It was like trying to squeeze water out of a melon.”
Her openness pushes me to ask the next question, “And there were a lot of them?”
“When Milton was younger, one a week.” My eyes widen. That many? “Lately, however, no.
