by Hart, Stella
“Nice, isn’t it?” Jamie said, drawing my gaze to him. “Certainly not the worst place in the world to be imprisoned.”
I swallowed hard and turned away, focusing my gaze on the view again.
The end of the driveway swept into a wide ring of pale pebbles which surrounded a short, perfectly-manicured hedge. In the center of that hedge circle stood an ornate fountain featuring several carved angels pouring water out of pale stone jugs.
Jamie told the driver to swing the car around to the other side of the fountain, and we stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the imposing manor entrance.
“Let’s go,” he said, reaching across to open my door.
My legs wobbled as I got out of the car, still weak from all the sedatives he pumped into me earlier. He tried to help, but I shook him off, refusing to let him touch me again. He rolled his eyes and strode up the steps ahead of me.
As he unlocked the door, I took a deep breath. The air smelled like woodsmoke and pine needles, and the beautiful gardens and distant dark forest reminded me of a royal estate.
If I wasn’t here against my will, I’d probably view this place as a winter paradise—the perfect spot to relax fireside with a cup of hot spiced wine after spending a day outside exploring the woods and breathing in all the crisp, clean air.
I knew this would be the last time I was allowed outside for a long time, though, so I had to savor each and every wonderful woodsy breath. There would be no more winter vacations for me now. No more luxuries. From the second I stepped inside this hauntingly-beautiful building, I would be treated like a slave, and I would be lucky if I was provided with clean water to drink and more than one meal a day.
“Time to go in,” Jamie finally said, pulling one of the heavy oak doors open. “We need to head up to the third floor.”
As I stepped inside, I stared around with wide eyes, simultaneously terrified and amazed by the manor’s grandiosity. The impossibly-high ceilings were covered with meticulous paintings and carved heraldry, and several glinting chandeliers hung over the marble-tiled foyer. Right in front of us was a sprawling double staircase.
I started toward the stairs, but Jamie reached for my shoulder and pulled me back. “That’s for guests only,” he said. “You have to take the servant’s stairs.”
A pit appeared in my stomach as I followed him through the foyer and into a wide hallway which ran all the way through the ground floor of the manor. Most of the doors to the rooms on either side of the hall were open, and I spotted several elaborately-decorated sitting rooms, two narrow banquet halls, a ballroom, a library, and a sunroom with floor-to-ceiling windows and a shimmering indoor pool.
On the far-right side of the hall, close to the end, there were several sets of double doors inlaid with gold. All of them were shut except one. As I peered through it on my way past, I saw that it led into a massive auditorium with tiered seats and a stage with red velvet curtains.
“This way,” Jamie said, directing my attention to a doorway on the other side of the hall. It led to a set of stairs that were twisted in a perfect spiral.
I trudged upward, heart growing heavier with each step.
When I reached the third floor, Jamie pushed me out into another hall. A procession of young women was heading down it in the opposite direction. All of them were dressed in white sweaters and pants. A staff uniform, perhaps.
Some of the women had bruises on the bare parts of their skin, but none of them looked fearful or upset. They had glazed, dreamy expressions on their faces instead, like they were high on drugs.
“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath.
As Jamie and I passed the girls, one of them looked me up and down with a mixture of interest and confusion glimmering in her eyes. She seemed distracted by my blue gown and sparkling earrings, and she ended up tripping over her feet and falling against Jamie.
“I’m sorry, Master Jamie,” she said as she quickly righted herself. “I didn’t mean to fall.”
“It’s okay, Serena,” Jamie said, patting her shoulder. “Are you all heading to lunch?”
“Yes, Master Jamie.”
“Good. I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, Master Jamie. It was nice to see you.”
She hurried away. I turned my head over my shoulder and watched her go, brows wrinkling with confusion.
“Who are those girls? Are they maids?” I asked, looking back at Jamie. As I spoke, I spotted four young men turning into the hall. They were dressed in white like the girls, and judging by their faces, they couldn’t be any older than eighteen or nineteen.
“Something like that,” Jamie replied.
He led me to a door at the end and unlocked it before waving me inside. “This is where you’ll be staying for now.”
I stepped in and peered around the room. It was small, but not stiflingly-so. A wooden nightstand and a single bed with pale gray sheets and pillowcases sat in the center, right under a large white mullioned window, and a threadbare armchair sat in one of the corners. A narrow doorway on the right led into a little bathroom.
Jamie cleared his throat. “I’ll be back later.”
I whirled around. “Wait, no. Don’t—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Jamie slammed the door in my face. Then I heard the key turning in the lock on the other side.
With a heavy sigh, I stepped into the bathroom to check it out. There was a toilet on the left and a tiny sink with a cup and toothbrush right next to it. On the other side, there was a tarnished silver rack with two towels and a small rusted showerhead jutting out of the white wall. There was no enclosure for the shower; just a large drain on the tiles to collect the water.
It was better than I expected. On the way here, I’d pictured a dank dungeon with a bucket for a toilet and a dirty stone floor for a bed, so the fact that this little room contained even the most rudimentary washing facilities made it seem like a luxury hotel.
I left the bathroom and headed for the window. The panes were frosted, but I could see through them if I stood on the bed and pressed my nose right up to the glass.
From this high up, I could see beyond the thick trees on one side of the sprawling estate. There was an enormous green field with several helipads and a runway out there. If I squinted, I could also see countless rows of trellises stretching into the distance on the other side.
It looked like a vineyard.
I furrowed my brows as I stared at the bare trunks and branches, wondering if I could figure out my location based on the sights around me. Then my shoulders sagged as I realized what a ridiculous notion that was. There were thousands of vineyards and wineries in America, and hundreds of them had helipads and runways on-site for wealthy visitors.
I could be near any one of them.
Besides, even if I did manage to figure out where I was, that knowledge wouldn’t help me. It wouldn’t change the fact that Q intended to sell me to a horrible man—or men—in just a few days.
Hot tears brimmed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks as I slumped down to the bed, finally giving in to the miserable exhaustion.
I rested my head on the cool, lavender-scented linen and sobbed, wishing I’d chosen to stay at the White House party with Logan. If I’d just trusted my heart instead of my head, none of this would’ve happened, and I would be safe and warm in his arms right now.
Instead, I let Jamie prey on my worst fears and fill my mind with nonsense. I let him convince me that staying with Logan would damn me to eternal misery and danger, and I believed him when he said he would help me. Now I was trapped in a hellish nightmare.
Deep down, I knew I deserved it. I picked the wrong path, and now I had to pay the price for my wayward foolishness.
I should’ve trusted my instincts. I should’ve listened to that overwhelmingly loud voice in my mind last night; the one that told me I’d fallen in love with Logan.
Why didn’t I do that? What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I let someone tra
mple all over that and manipulate me into thinking the worst of him instead?
Now he would never know how I felt. He would never know how close I came to staying with him, and he would never know what I was thinking as I lay on this little bed, crying my eyes out. He would never know about the realization crushing my chest right now; the too-late understanding that I really did love him after all.
In the end, there was only one major thing that pushed me to leave him, and that was the fact that he’d never apologized for all of the terrible things he’d put me through in the past. Because of that, I thought he would never give me my freedom. I thought I would never have the chance to choose him and his love for myself, instead of being forced into it, and I thought I would be trapped in that bleak gray half-life forever.
Even if that was all true and Logan never intended to set me free—which I had no way of knowing—that sort of existence was a hell of a lot better than what was going to happen to me now.
Logan might have hurt me in the past, but he stopped when he realized I hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Although I was worried that he might do it again at some point, he hadn’t given any indication that he actually would. As far as I could tell, he intended on treating me with kindness and respect, even if he refused to let me go free.
I couldn’t say the same thing about whoever chose to buy me at the upcoming auction. That man was bound to be someone who despised our country and wanted to rape and torture me in a twisted attempt to triumph over us, so I had nothing to look forward to but pain and misery for however long he decided to keep me. After he was done with me, I would probably be killed or sold on to another terrible man who wanted to defile the American president’s daughter.
That was my life now, unless Logan miraculously found me and saved me. But why would he? I left him. Betrayed him.
Again.
I wouldn’t blame him if he washed his hands of me because of that.
Even if he did come looking for me, he would never find me in time. Q would make sure of that.
I cried into my pillow for what felt like three hours, though I had no way of knowing if that was accurate. There were no clocks in this spartan room, and the sky outside hadn’t darkened. For all I knew, only fifteen minutes had passed, and I was simply losing my mind.
Maybe it would be better if I did.
I heard the key turning in the lock again, and I sat up and quickly dried my eyes with a corner of the bedsheet. I wouldn’t give any of my captors the satisfaction of seeing my tears. My time with Logan had taught me to be stronger than that.
Jamie stepped inside and closed the door behind him. A beige bag hung off one arm and a large silver cloche tray was balanced on his other forearm. A delicious scent wafted through the room as he stepped over to me.
“This is for you,” he said, placing the tray on the nightstand. “I figured you must be hungry.”
“Thank you,” I replied in a low murmur, refusing to meet his eyes.
He dropped the bag on the end of the bed. “There’s fresh clothes in here. You can shower and change after I leave.”
I gingerly reached into the bag to find a white sweater, white pants, and a white lace bralette with matching panties.
“You’ll fit in with everyone else now,” Jamie said with a smirk as I examined the new outfit.
“Great,” I muttered. “Thank you, Master Jamie.”
He chuckled at my sardonic gibe. “Eat up,” he said, nodding toward the tray.
I scooted over to the other side of the bed and lifted the cloche lid off the tray. My eyes widened as I saw a large plate of salad, roasted potatoes and pumpkin, and a generous portion of marinated salmon with lemon wedges on the side. A small lobster sat on a side plate, along with a buttery sauce to dip it in. Next to that was a small cup filled with a pale pink smoothie.
“That’s a probiotic drink,” Jamie said, pointing to the cup. “Plenty of goodness in it, so make sure you drink it all.”
I looked up at him with arched brows. “I was honestly expecting a slice of stale bread and a bowl of gruel.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be stupid. We have to keep you healthy, don’t we? We can’t have you standing up on the auction block looking like a zombie.”
My stomach soured. “Guess not,” I murmured, looking back at the food.
“Just six more days until the buyers arrive. Maybe even less, now that Q is thinking about bringing the auction forward.”
My chest tightened, and my eyes shot up again. “What? Why would it be brought forward?”
“Well, you saw that auditorium when we came in, right?” he asked, cocking a brow.
“Yes.”
“That’s where the auction will be held. There are a thousand seats in there, and the initial announcement of your sale has generated so much interest in the last few hours that we’ve sold seven hundred tickets already. Ten grand a pop.” He paused and tilted his head to one side, lips still twisted in a cruel smirk. “That’s seven million dollars we’ve made already, purely from men who want a chance to bid on you.”
"How nice for you and Q,” I said, tongue dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes. Anyway, at this rate, every ticket will be sold by tomorrow, so we might as well hold the auction a few days early. We’ll see, though. There are a few details that need to be ironed out before we set the official time and date.”
I pictured myself standing in a cage under a spotlight, naked and trembling as two thousand terrible eyes stared in my direction. “How much are you going to get for me?” I asked in a hollow voice.
“I have no idea,” Jamie said, brows dipping in a frown. “Probably around a hundred million. Maybe more.”
“And what are you going to do with all that dirty money?”
He bristled. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Isn’t it? You’re making it off my back, aren’t you?”
“Doesn’t mean it’s any of your business.”
I sighed and looked down at my lap. “I just don’t understand how you can do this,” I said, slowly shaking my head. “You’ve always been so nice to me. To everyone. I wouldn’t have suspected you in a million years.”
Jamie scoffed. “It was my job to be nice to you,” he said. “I’ll admit, though… I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for you.”
“Somehow I doubt that, considering what you’re doing to me,” I muttered.
“No, really. You can be a brat sometimes, but you’re a sweet girl deep down. Plus you’re just so fuckable.”
Bile rose in my throat. “I’m more than fuckable,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I’m a person, not a sex doll.”
“That’s not true anymore, and you know it,” he replied, tilting my chin upward with two fingers. “The sooner you accept it, the better.”
I swallowed hard. “Please, Jamie,” I said, voice quavering. “I know this isn’t you. Someone must be forcing you to do this.”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah, everyone has a boss. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy my work.”
“You can’t really be happy seeing me sold off to some awful man, can you? You know what will happen to me once the buyer takes me. I’ll be beaten and tortured. Raped and killed.”
“I know.”
“Is that what you want?”
His face softened slightly. “It’s not up to me, is it?”
“It could be. You said you’ve always had a soft spot for me. Prove it,” I said, folding my arms.
He let out a short, amused snort. “And how would you suggest I do that?”
“You can stop this from happening. You can get me out of here,” I said, eyes pleadingly wide.
“Yes, I probably could,” he mused, forehead creasing.
“Then do it,” I said, clinging desperately to the thread of hope he’d just given me. “Help me.”
Jamie lifted his brows. “Why would I do that? So you can watch me get thrown in prison for the rest of my life, or killed by Q for defying her?�
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I shook my head. “That won’t happen. We’ll find a way to keep you safe, and I’ll forgive you for everything. You’ll never get in any trouble. I swear.”
He let out a deep sigh. “I suppose I could consider it.”
“Really?”
He smiled and let out a dark chuckle. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.”
“Couldn’t resist what?” I asked.
“Letting you try to manipulate me. It might’ve worked on Logan a few times, but it won’t work on me. It’s cute, though. Funny, too.”
My heart sank, and I lowered my gaze to the floor. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m just trying to go home.”
“Too bad.”
“Please, Jamie. It’s not too late,” I said softly. “You can still do the right thing.”
“You’re wrong. It is too late.”
“It’s not,” I insisted, voice turning thick with emotion.
“Fucking Christ, Willow, don’t you get it?” he asked, forcing my chin up again. “This is it for you. This is where you belong. The sooner you realize that and stop trying to fight or argue your way out of here, the better off you’ll be.”
I crossed my arms and glowered at him. “No. I don’t belong here at all. I’m no one’s property.”
Jamie sighed. “Yes, you are. Q has been in control of your life since the day you were born. Just because you didn’t know that until recently doesn’t change the fact that it’s the truth.”
“She controls your life too,” I pointed out.
“No, she doesn’t,” he said, letting out another amused snort.
“Yes, she does. Everything you do is for her, isn’t it?” I said. “You think you’re so smart and powerful, but really, you’re just a lapdog who does whatever the fuck she tells you without question, aren’t you? Nothing but a pathetic pawn serving his queen.”
He hesitated for a moment, silently rubbing his jaw.
“Well?” I said, raising my brows. “Am I right?”
“I suppose so, in a manner of speaking,” he muttered, brows furrowing.
I smiled thinly. “Then you’re owned by someone too. You’ll never be free.”