nice restaurant with a beautiful view of Knik Arm and the mountains beyond it.
Darren ushered me out of the SUV and led me inside where we seated at a private
table in the back that allowed for the best view. The guards and Scott stood off to
the side, almost surrounding our table and naturally making me uncomfortable. It
felt like they were garnering unnecessary attention that I didn’t want. My heart was
racing, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing from table to table as people stared
at us. My knee started to bounce against under the table.
“What’s wrong now?” Darren asked, his voice hinting at his annoyance.
“Everyone is staring,” I murmured under my breath.
“And you’re concerned by this because?”
“I’m just … not used to that.”
Darren shifted in his seat, leaning forward to place his forearms on the table.
“You’ll get used to it.” His voice was clipped and stern, and it was making me
uneasy.
A few short moments later, a group of waiters showed up and placed two plates
down in front of Darren and me. They also poured us each a glass of white wine and
placed the bottle in the ice bucket before leaving us alone.
I stared down at the grilled salmon, green beans, and redskins, confused as to
when I had ordered anything and looked at Darren for an answer.
“I had everything ordered before we got here,” he answered, noticing my
confusion.
“Oh,” I replied, ignoring the fact that even when we went out, I still didn’t get to
choose what I ate.
Thankfully, dinner was delicious anyway. It felt so strange being seen again,
being so exposed. There was so much hustle and bustle going on around me.
Between the people dining and socializing behind us, and the scenery above, it was
more stimulus than I was used to, and for some reason, it made me nervous. It felt
like every single eye was on me; whether they were Darren’s or his guards or the
people around us, it didn’t matter. It was nerve wracking, and it made it difficult for
me to eat. Again.
Halfway through my dinner, I felt sick, like I couldn’t hold another bite down.
And the idea of asking to use the public restroom absolutely tormented me.
“You don’t look well,” Darren commented from across the table.
“I don’t feel well,” I confirmed. “Can I use the restroom?”
Darren glared at me for a moment, sighing through his nose before finally
nodding. The warning in his eyes left me nearly shaking as I stood from the table.
Hesitantly turning away, my guards followed me to the restroom, standing just
outside the door as I locked myself in a stall. Thankfully, the restroom was empty,
giving me the opportunity to let go.
Bending down to the floor, I threw up everything I’d just ate, my body shaking
from the chills that came over me. When I was done, and my stomach was empty, I
flushed the toilet and sat on the lid to regain my composure. It wasn’t long before I
felt myself begin to hyperventilate, and I had no fucking clue what the hell was
wrong with me. Why was I reacting like this? I was finally out in the open, free of
the confines of Darren’s property, but that didn’t mean I was any less a prisoner. If
anything, I was more restricted out here than I was at his home.
If I fucked up behind the closed doors of Darren’s estate, the punishment
wouldn’t be nearly as bad if I had fucked up out in public. If I involved other people,
they would suffer because of me, and I didn’t want to jeopardize them. There were
so many opportunities to escape, so many options for me to run or call for help, but
none of them would matter. The result would still be the same. I’d end up back with
Darren and in deeper shit than I wanted to think about. I didn’t want to be out here.
I wanted to be back in the shadows where I felt safe from my own potential self-
inflicted disaster.
After a few moments of silent calm, I heard the bathroom door open, followed
by the sound of laughter and chatter from two women. I quickly did my business
and moved to the sinks to covertly wash my hands and rinse my mouth out with the
complimentary mouthwash on the counter. Looking myself in the mirror, I noticed
how pale I looked. Fuck, I was not good.
Reaching under the water, I began to rinse my hands of the soap, when another
two women walked in. The small bathroom was becoming crowded, and I hurried to
get back to Darren.
“Oh, my God. I love your bracelets! Where did you get them?” a high-pitched
shriek of a voice came from next to me. A young woman practically beamed over my
cuffs, and I quickly retracted them from the water to prevent her from noticing the
tags of ownership that were inked into my skin.
“They were a gift,” I said quietly, my voice shaking. She was the first person I
had spoken to in six months who wasn’t under Darren’s payroll.
“Well, you are a lucky girl,” the young woman said very matter-of-factly. “I
wish my
