"What do they do with them after . . . ?"
"I'm not involved with that."
"With what?"
"With what you said."
"But do you know? What happens to them?"
She shook her head. "Not exactly. I'm sure they're bringing us to a meeting with Mr. Shriver. We'll find out everything then. Speaking of which, we should probably take that shower."
I hadn't paid attention to what she was wearing, a red silk robe. As I followed her off the bed and down the steps to the lower level, she let it slip off her shoulders. Now we were both naked.
We entered an unusually narrow hallway with custom-made sandstone tiles on the floor, walls, and ceiling. The air became hot and humid, to the point that I was sweating before we turned the corner and entered the most amazing bathroom I'd ever seen.
"This is yours?"
"Yep," said Kate.
"You don't have to share it with anyone?"
"Not unless I want to," she said, taking my hand and pulling me toward a Jacuzzi that looked like a natural spring pool in a jungle, surrounded by plant life with big, glossy leaves. Behind it, a waterfall cascaded down a rock wall, its origin hidden by the foliage. Jet streams made the water look like it was boiling, and the steam was so thick I couldn't see the back part of the bathroom.
The floor was made of unfinished granite. Not individual tiles but one gigantic slab. I could only imagine how much the floor had cost, much less the entire room.
Kate led me up three stone steps and together we dipped our toes into the hot, steamy water, clinging to each other as we lowered ourselves in.
I only stayed in a minute. The heat made me drowsy, and every time I swam over one of the jets, pleasure streaked through my body, exhausting me even more. I never knew I could come to dread orgasms.
Kate told me where to find a bathrobe and towel. I headed back through the narrow hallway, inviting the chilly air. My stomach ached. I was hungry and nauseous. Shivering, too, by the time I emerged from the claustrophobic hallway into the main room.
The bathrobes were neatly folded on a shelf in the wall to the right of the shower room entrance.
I heard the beep of the electronic lock but didn't realize someone was coming in until the doorknob turned, and although everyone I'd encountered today--or tonight?--had seen me naked, I rushed to wrap the robe around my body and tie the strings.
When I turned, I surprised myself by smiling and batting my eyes like a damn teenager.
He was beautiful. That's the only adjective that fits at all. Gorgeous, hot, sexy, handsome--none of those did him justice. His effect was similar to that of Flora Girl. He exuded warmth, familiarity. And when he brushed his silky, russet bangs aside, I caught a glimpse of his eyes.
My throat felt like it was swelling shut. I had that feeling you get when the boy you can't stop thinking about smiles as he passes you in the hallway. Or the first time he kisses you.
At the same time I was terrified.
This man who leaned against the open doorframe with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, who wore a white collared shirt with only two middle buttons fastened and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, who had a face I could tell would never lose its youth . . . he had glowing irises. Bright, blue, and, unless I was crazy, literally giving off light.
"Sorry to barge in," he said. "Old habit."
I hugged myself. "It's okay."
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"You're shaking."
"I'm just . . . a little chilly."
He smiled.
"I'm a doctor," he said. "After the meeting, you need to come see me."
I heard the splatter of Kate's footsteps on the damp tile, and then she was rushing past me, shrieking, "Patton!" I felt a stab of pain as she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, dampening his shirt with her wet body.
Patton hugged her tight and then let her slide down. I watched her giggle and try to slip her hand down his pants. He stopped her, extracting her hand by the wrist and placing it neatly at her side.
"I missed you," she said.
Patton touched her cheek. "We saw each other half an hour ago."
"Too long."
She giggled again, as if they shared an inside joke.
Jealousy? Right now? Really Melissa?
Patton made eye contact with me, and Kate took the opportunity to try grabbing his dick again.
"The meeting," he said softly.
"We have time," she said, trying to push through his grip.
"No." His voice went deep this time, authoritative but still warm, comforting.
I wanted to talk to him. Alone. If I had any chance of living, it was through him. The other brothers--Clifton, Brian, and Sean--each harbored his own unique brand of crazy, but Patton seemed different. Like someone I could have met out in the real world.
Kate sighed, raising her shoulders and dropping them dramatically. She turned and stomped sluggishly in my direction like a disappointed child, saying, "We have to get dressed now."
"What am I supposed to wear?" I said.
"I have lots of clothes. You can wear anything you like." She shot a glance at Patton. "Get out of here! Melissa doesn't want you watching her."
Patton nodded and kicked out from the doorframe. He waved at me--or at both of us--and backed out of the room, still grinning. I watched as the closing door erased him from sight, committing as much of him to memory as possible. Tall, lean, clean but unkempt hair. The most naturally beautiful men always presented themselves as unconcerned about their looks. I know the tricks. Perfectly manicured hair tossed about on purpose to give it a windswept look. Loose collars. And for the most daring of men, a cockeyed buttoning job on the shirt. It's a look that whispers, I'm almost perfect. I just need you to finish the job.
I wanted to unbutton his buttons.
I wanted to reach down his pants and feel what Kate felt.
All in the midst of my ongoing kidnapping.
My chest hurt, alerting me to the fact that I hadn't breathed in at least a full minute.
"Oh my God," I sighed, finally drawing a breath.
"His eyes, right?"
"Yes!"
"I know."
Kate was leafing through the dresses and blouses hanging in one of several closets.
"They were glowing," I said stupidly.
"Intense, isn't it?"
"I was thinking impossible."
"You'd be surprised."
"Do they all have crazy eyes?"
"All but Clifton."
"How?"
"You'll have to ask Patton--or no, Brian. Ask Brian."
"I don't know." I sat down on the bed. "Brian scares me. I think I'd rather talk to Patton."
"Okay."
"Is it okay?"
"It's fine."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Are you and Patton . . . together?"
Kate snorted. "I wouldn't say we're together. We have a thing. He comes to see me a lot. It just doesn't really work like that here."
"What do you mean?"
She turned and came at me with a white sundress. "Here," she said, laying it over me. "Do you like it?"
"It's pretty," I said, feeling the rippled texture.
"White should make you look innocent. Red is the only other option. You don't want them thinking about blood. Oh, honey, what's the matter?"
I was crying again, so exhausted my body ached.
"I want to go home."
But I didn't even know where that was now.
─Insert Method of Payment─
THE ELEVATOR opened into a large foyer with maroon walls and white pillars. The low ceiling and dim recessed lighting gave the room a creepy yet elegant vibe. This was Mr. Shriver's floor.
"Each brother oversees a specific floor," Kate had explained in the elevator.
"Indeed," Patton replied.
I waited for Kate to contin
ue, but she didn't. Patton must have used a tone I couldn't detect that commanded a change in subject, one that Kate obeyed without resistance. His power over her made me nervous. Ted had had that kind of power over me, and look at the results.
Then again, wherever you find a stupid girl with raw devotion, you'll also find a man with undue and often unwanted power. I still couldn't tell if Kate was stupid or representing herself as such for survival's sake, and with that thought I again returned to my suspicion. If Kate had to feign stupidity to keep herself alive, what did that say about Patton? Maybe he was just like his brothers. Maybe Kate was lying to me--or to herself.
As we followed Patton across the foyer, I peered into the pitch black doorways on either side of the room, terrified of whom or what might leap out at me. Clifton, perhaps, naked and slimy with his own ejaculate. It didn't help that our footsteps echoed from the back staircase, which came to an unlit landing and split in either direction. The echoes of footsteps sound like the footsteps of others, or so I'd always thought. I'd grown up in a large house with hardwood floors and then moved down the street into a mansion. Looking back on it, a girl who's scared of echoes, the dark, and walking around corners should not marry a millionaire.
Patton led us up to the landing, and as we climbed the left staircase, I heard piano music.
Kate gasped and grabbed my arm with both hands. "She's alive!"
"Kate," Patton said without turning, his voice deep and booming.
I looked at Kate and she nodded, smiling. Then she leaned close and whispered, "Every Flora Girl learns the piano."
"It couldn't be another one?" I asked.
"No, no, the girls don't leave Level D until it's time for the Showcase Hall."
At the top of the stairs Patton stopped and turned. At over six feet tall and two steps higher, he towered over us.
"Kate, you need to listen to me," he said and her eyes went to the floor. "You're welcome to tell Melissa anything you want, but not here and not now. You know how touchy Mr. Shriver gets. Now do you want your friend to live through this or not?"
"I'm sorry," Kate said.
"Not a word until you're called upon to speak, okay?"
"Okay."
He turned to me. "And as for you . . . I've been contemplating how you should play it. Mr. Shriver is dead set on killing you."
Kate's head shot up. "But you said you talked to him!"
"I did. He wasn't very receptive to my ideas."
"Patton!"
Silence followed, and both of them looked at me.
I wanted off these steps. My knees were shaking, my heart felt like an animal thrashing around in its cage, and somehow I'd been desensitized to the thought of my own impending demise. If it was going to happen, further delay was pointless.
Patton said nothing as I climbed the last two steps and brushed past him. He just pivoted on one foot and watched me walk away.
I followed the music around the corner and down a long hallway, where all the doors had digital security panels. Between the doors were depraved statues of young women being violated by an assortment of monsters and strange creatures. At the end of the hall, a set of double doors stood wide open. I could see bookshelves. As I drew closer, an enormous fireplace, ablaze.
Then, behind the piano--Fur Elise, played at an unusually slow tempo--I heard whimpering. A man whimpering.
I froze in the doorway.
In the middle of the library, a dozen high-backed leather chairs surrounded a small platform with a stripper pole, to which Mr. Moses was tied at the wrists and ankles. He was naked, and blood oozed from a zigzag of pink, fleshy lashes across his black skin.
I didn't see Flora anywhere, nor a piano. But the music didn't sound like it was coming through speakers.
Brian and Clifton occupied two of the chairs while Sean stood at the edge of the platform holding a bullwhip. I could see the back of a head poking out over the chair closest to me. That had to be Mr. Shriver.
Sean, still wearing his creepy sunglasses, raised the whip and brought it down over Mr. Moses, slicing into his meaty shoulder. Mr. Moses screamed while Clifton cackled and bounced up and down in his chair, clapping.
Brian has his nose buried in his smart phone, unmoved by the torture taking place before him.
I could hear Patton and Kate coming up behind me, but when Sean raised the whip again I rushed into the room and shouted, "Stop!"
Clifton peered up frantically, like a prairie dog peeking out of its hole. Brian looked up from his phone long enough to glance at me and smile at Mr. Shriver, who slowly began to stand.
Sean didn't even flinch. He sliced through the air with the whip, harder than before, and when it connected, I could hear the skin splitting on Mr. Moses's forehead.
Mr. Shriver looked nothing like I had anticipated. No younger than sixty, no taller than me. He had a full head of white hair, parted on the side, and he wore a black silk bathrobe and matching house shoes. He stretched and yawned before starting in my direction, greeting me with a warm smile that reminded me of my grandfather, a kind and gentle man who died on my sixteenth birthday.
"You're right, Patton," Mr. Shriver said, looking past me. "She is quite the beauty."
He stopped and extended a hand, but I couldn't bring myself to reach out and take it. It was like trying to make myself touch a red-hot stove burner.
He continued to smile for a moment, but it faded in an instant, and suddenly the warmth and familiarity was gone from is face, replaced now by profound antipathy--madness, even.
"I've no use for rudeness. Sean, open up her throat."
He turned and headed back to his chair as Sean dropped the whip and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. The snap of the blade opening inspired terror inside me. I backed away, stumbling into Patton, who put a hand on my shoulder and then stepped between me and Sean, who was approaching rapidly.
Patton put out a hand. "A moment, please."
"No, no, no, no," Mr. Shriver shouted, his voice rising with each repetition. "You've had all the moments this matter calls for, Patton. This cunt . . ."
"She put us all at risk," Sean said, spinning and twirling the knife gracefully with spider leg fingers.
"I wanna fuck her," Clifton announced. "Can I fuck her before we kill her?"
"Shut up, Clifton," Brian mumbled.
"What about after?"
"That's fucking disgusting."
"You're fuckin' disgustin'!"
Sean turned his head slightly and said, "Both of you shut up."
"But I want to," Clifton said. "Ain't no reason not to. Come on, I never get to fuck any--."
"Why isn't this bitch dead yet?!" Mr. Shriver suddenly screamed.
Sean tried to step around Patton, but Patton blocked him.
"You heard the man."
"I did."
"Move aside, brother."
"No."
"I'll come through you."
"Where's Flora?" I yelled, startling even Mr. Shriver, though Sean seemed immune to surprise. The invisible pianist hit a flat note, which meant she might be in this room after all.
"She's mine," I said frantically. "I signed the contract. The contract renews daily until I cancel it. Where is she?"
Patton was smiling at me. He made a subtle motion with his eyes, as if prodding me to keep talking.
"My husband is dead," I said, not really sure where I was going with this. "That means his money is mine."
"How much money?" Mr. Shriver asked with a mocking tone.
I'd hit a brick wall. I had no idea how much Ted was worth. He'd told me once that the house cost over ten million, but beyond that I was clueless.
My eyes went to the knife, and in its brilliant flash I saw myself pulling the business card from Ted's little black book.
We do criminal background checks, credit checks, personal references from past or current customers, financial assessments . . .
Kate's voice, whispering to me like an angel. Financial assessments.
He knew more about Ted's estate than I did.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" I asked, inspiring a slight grin on Sean's face, the first from him I'd seen.
Mr. Shriver proved less congenial. He started grinding his teeth, his heavy lower jaw like that of a cow chewing the cud. If I'm good at anything, it's detecting people's moods. You tend to develop that ability when you live with an asshole. Mr. Shriver's face was cold, his eyes deep and black.
"You're a woman, aren't you?" he said, the whole question coming out like one long grunt.
Brian laughed maniacally, and the pianist hit another wrong note.
There was no point in holding back now. The venom in that question was the tipping point. I wanted to kill him.
Still, my fate rested in his hands, and like every rich man I'd ever met, only two things mattered to him: money and sex. I couldn't compete with his product, so Ted's estate was all the leverage I had.
"A million dollars a day," I said. "Right? Give me what I paid for and keep billing me. Flora is mine until the money runs out."
"And then what?" Mr. Shriver asked. "Turn you loose?"
"She can live with me," Kate said.
He folded his arms and nodded, smiling. "Come here, darling."
She went to him slowly, like a child who knows she's in trouble. Mr. Shriver wasted no time. The moment she was within reach, he grabbed her by the bicep and popped her in the mouth with his fist. Then he slapped her so hard she fell to the floor, sobbing and cupping her chin to collect the blood.
"I'll work for you," I said.
He laughed. "Doing what?"
Patton raised his hand. "I put in for a new teacher's assistant three months ago."
"I know," Mr. Shriver said. "You remind me every goddamn day."
"Well?"
"Her?"
"Why not?"
"We can't trust her."
"We don't need to," Patton said. "She'll never be without a teacher's supervision, and when the work day is over she'll be delivered immediately back to Kate's room. I'll assume responsibility for her."
Mr. Shriver considered Patton's request, ruminating amidst the chaotic section of the song. It took me a moment to realize he and Sean were looking at each other.
Sean said, "Collect the estate, delay penalty."
Mr. Shriver nodded.
Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) Page 7