by M. N. Forgy
“When you say owned, do you mean, like, you won’t be living here anymore?” Jayden asks, her voice taking a tone of sorrow. I look at her, my expression clearly telling her everything she needs to know.
“No. He can’t do that. We can run. We can call the police.” Jayden tears up, her hands grabbing at me frantically.
“No, we can’t, Jayden. We just… can’t,” I stumble on my words. I can’t dive into telling her how obviously powerful Landon is. This is unbearably painful for me, to know this is the last time I may see Jayden. All I want to do is slump to the floor and cry with her, but I can’t. I won’t give Landon that power. I’ll savor the time I have with Jayden and be strong for the both of us.
“You’re all I have,” Jayden whispers, making my eyes snap to hers. I grab her into a hug, needing that feeling of comfort.
“You’re all I have, too,” I respond. “I’ll work something out. Get you in there as an escort, see if I can come home on the weekends, or find a way out of there — something,” I mumble into her curly hair, her fingers digging into my back as she cries.
I start to pull away. “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep,” I suggest, but Jayden doesn’t let go. I reach over and turn the light off then walk us over to my bed. I pull the sheet back and pull myself from Jayden’s grip. Too stunned to move on her own, I unzip her red dress, letting it fall to the floor. I climb into the bed and hold the sheet up, encouraging Jayden to crawl in beside me. She kicks her heels off and crawls in, her back to my front, and we snuggle close to each other. Her body shakes as she sobs, the heat radiating off her causing me to sweat, but I don’t pull away. I don’t even kick a leg out from under the sheet.
“We’ve been through so much together. You’re the only person who understands me and doesn’t hold judgement.” Her voice cracks with emotion. “Charlie, you can’t leave me. Promise me you’ll come back,” she sobs.
I take a deep breath, not sure if I’ll be able to deliver on that or not, so I lie.
“I promise.”
***
A loud knock at the door has Jayden falling out of the bed and me pulling the sheets up over my head.
“What?” Jayden yells, opening the front door. I smirk. I know she’s in her bra and undies. She has no shame. At least she didn’t sleep next to me naked, though.
“It’s time,” Osborn remarks, his voice deep.
“Yeah, okay,” Jayden clips, slamming the door, probably in his face.
I sigh and throw the blankets back.
“We could take him, you know,” Jayden mutters, pulling the sheet from her bed to cover herself. I laugh. The two of us trying to wrestle Osborn, tie him up so we can run, is an image to be seen just in my head.
“I don’t see that playing out too well.” I half-laugh, shaking my head as I slip on a sports bra. “Besides, Landon would come for me, and I know he’d find us,” I tell her, grabbing some ripped jeans and a dark blue shirt that has the sleeves cut off, revealing my white sports bra. I hate leaving Jayden, but at least I don’t feel as apprehensive about being a part of the Blackwell Estate. If Landon is anything like I thought he was, maybe I can leave on the weekends and have Jayden come see me or something.
“Fuck him,” Jayden snaps, making me laugh. A knock sounds at the door, reminding us that Osborn is waiting.
“I will be back, Jayden. I will get in touch with you,” I whisper. Jayden pulls me close and inhales, like she is programming me to memory. She turns quickly and chuckles nervously, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and sitting on her bed. I tilt my head and give her a tight-lipped smile.
“I gotta go.” I lean over the bed and kiss her forehead, muttering, “Be safe.”
“You, too,” she whispers.
I look around our dump of an apartment, not really caring to take anything with me. Eventually, I open the door to find Osborn.
“Let’s go,” he grunts, pushing his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.
The ride to the estate is quiet, the driver sitting at the front of the limo only looking back to check on me a few times. Osborn sits beside me, his large size taking up most of the seat.
We pull up to the estate, and Landon is standing on the steps in a crisp, expensive suit. The limo comes to a stop, and he opens my door.
“Charlie,” he greets. His body is like a storm — powerful, strong, and fearless. I swallow hard, that familiar ache in my chest resurfacing.
“Landon,” I reply dryly. His eyes rake me from top to bottom, leaving a blazing trail of lust behind them. I can’t help the way my legs clench to stifle the intolerable throb escalating between them, but it doesn’t override the wave of anger I have toward him, either.
Landon leans in, causing me to stiffen.
“Stop clenching,” he whispers, a smirk crossing his face. My mouth hangs open with shock, but I shut it as quickly as it flew open.
“I can’t help it, your driver is hot,” I smart, walking past him.
I hear Landon laugh like a school boy, his footsteps sounding behind me as I let myself into the mansion-like house.
Landon grabs my upper arm, swinging me around with haste, and plows me against the large wooden door. His fresh scent seizes the air from my lungs. His face lowers mere inches from mine, his green eyes turning a shade darker, causing a bundle of nerves to twist in my stomach.
“That mouth will start wars between us. I’m not sure if I should wash it out with soap or fuck it,” Landon seethes. All the oxygen in my chest races out, leaving me speechless. Landon smirks, proud of himself.
I inhale a large breath, gather my courage, lean my head toward his, and smile. “Give me your best shot.” He doesn’t scare me; I’d like to see his worst, in fact.
Landon takes a deep breath and licks his bottom lip. “I’m not sure if you could—”
“Is this the new girl?” We both look over, and Landon quickly releases his hold on me. I have to bite my lip to stop from smiling. I affect him, and that alone is empowering.
“Veronica,” Landon enunciates slowly. The woman has long, golden-blonde hair that comes to rest on one shoulder. She is tall and thin, wearing a long, light pink dress that trails behind her. Her makeup is done lightly, but her red-stained lips stand out amongst her porcelain skin.
“The team will have their hands full with this one, that’s for sure,” Veronica sneers, her lip curled in disgust as she eyes me. I wince, shocked a complete stranger would be such a bitch. But then again, look at Landon.
“She’s not too bad,” Landon defends, a smirk crossing his face, his forest eyes holding a tone of friendliness. I scowl at both of them, angry they’re talking as if I’m not even standing in the room.
“I’m sure you would think so,” she clips. “They’re waiting upstairs for you.” She nods toward me before turning, picking her dress up, and walking back up the stairs.
“Please, don’t turn me into a Barbie,” I plead to Landon. He chuckles and runs his thumb over his chin.
“Would you like breakfast, Charlie?” he questions, lowering his hand and placing it on my lower back. His hand is large and takes up the small of my back. My memory takes me back to waking up in that hotel room by myself — no breakfast, no man, just a stack of cash. My body hums from his touch, but my mind barks out uncontrollable anger from the flashback. My logic winning this battle, I grasp Landon’s arm and tear it away from my body.
“How about we save the crap. You’re not a nice guy, and I’m not a nice girl. I don’t have a clue why you’re being nice to me, but stop. Oh, and it would be pointless to have breakfast and pretend to have small talk, when we both know I’m here to be your employee, your toy for money—”
“Charlie, you want me to be nice to you. Because by the end of all this, you will hate me more than you do right now,” Landon interrupts, his face masked with anger as his jaw clenches.
“Just show me to the team,” I mutter, unaffected by his threat.
Landon steps back and runs his hands th
rough his hair, his chest lifting as he inhales deeply as if he’s trying to control his anger.
“This way.” He points ahead of me, walking up the stairs. I let out the breath I was holding and follow him.
Landon takes me to a room which looks like a mini-salon and massage parlor mixed into one. A large mirror is outlined in bulbs, with every kind of hair product sitting on a table beside it and a black swivel chair in front of it. At the back of the room, there is a large open window with a small padded table placed in front of it, possibly a massage table.
“You must be Charlie.” My head snaps to look behind me, finding a man and a lady walking in behind us. The lady has black hair bunched on top of her head and she’s tall. Her face is in the shape of a kissing fish, or like she just ate something too sour. Her lips are dark purple, matching her purple dress which hugs her neck and falls to her calves. The man has dark-colored, spiked hair, the front of it splashed a bright red, and he’s much shorter. His black-rimmed glasses are too small for his face. My eyes trail down his small frame, noticing he’s wearing a pink shirt and dark blue jeans with green shoes. I quirk a brow at his choice of clothes. They’re very flashy.
“She doesn’t want to be a Barbie,” Landon mocks, a small smirk across his face. I purse my lips at him and roll my eyes. “Find me when you’re finished,” he demands, walking off with his hands in his pockets.
“What should we do with her hair? A bob maybe?” she suggests, tugging on a strand of my wavy hair.
“Oh, Michelle, don’t you dare touch her hair with scissors. We haven’t had the opportunity to work with such beauty before,” the man scolds, his eyes wide and mouth gaped open as he looks at my hair with awe. I’m stuck frozen while they argue over cutting my hair, scared they’ll hack it all off.
“Oh, Gabe, don’t be so dramatic.” Michelle rolls her eyes.
“Sit,” Gabe demands, pointing to the chair. I swallow hard, fighting my nerves, and sit in the chair. Jeez, is everyone around here so bossy?
For the next three hours, I am picked, prodded, waxed, and peeled. My entire body either burns or itches from all the beauty procedures I’ve endured. That massage table turned out to be a thing of nightmares. It’s where you lie to have hot wax torture. The only break I had was when a doctor came and took a blood sample then examined my private parts. Getting poked by a needle was the least painful of everything, strangely. I feel violated from head to toe right now.
“So, I’ll start the makeup if you want to go buy the wardrobe,” Michelle states, handing Gabe the chart with my body measurements on it.
“I’m on it. Oh, you should do a smoky eye shadow, but nothing heavy.” Gabe lights up, looking me over with excitement.
“I’m sorry, are you shopping or doing makeup?” Michelle props her hand on her hip and tilts her head to the side. Gabe rolls his eyes, throwing a hand at Michelle dismissively as he walks out of the room.
I feel like a doll being morphed into the perfect candidate for some lonely man. Even with all the glamour this place has to offer, I feel alone.
“You all right?” Michelle asks, her forehead wrinkling with worry lines.
I shrug and sit in the makeup chair. I haven’t said much the entire time, except to call her or Gabe a bitch when they yanked a strip of wax off my private parts. They’ve pretty much been doing all the talking while fighting over me like a piece of meat.
“It isn’t so bad, you’ll see.” She smiles, grabbing some makeup from her black bag.
“You mean you’ve—”
“No, I wasn’t an escort, but I’ve seen girls who were nervous at first, then a month later were in nothing but pure delight.” She pauses in her step and smiles wide. “You’ll see.” She nods excitedly.
I give a kind smile in return, but I’m not nervous. I’m not sure what I am, but nervousness isn’t one of the feelings I’m experiencing.
“I’ve seen women with some of the biggest celebrities around here getting their picture taken, going from nobody to somebody, all because of working here.” Michelle’s face widens as she rambles in excitement.
“Do you know Ring Ryno?” she asks, opening some of the eye shadow containers.
“The actor?”
“Yes, him. He’s one of the Blackwell clients, and he got one of the girls an acting job on the side of working here. She has a beautiful house and looks very happy, if you ask me.” Michelle shrugs.
I look down at my hands and bite my cheek. Is that supposed to make me feel better? I didn’t ask for fame, and I don’t care for high profiles to swoon over. I just wanted to pay my rent, not feel so lonely, and be free. Have some control over my life. But in the end, I’m owned again. Only this time, it’s not by the state. I’m owned by Landon Blackwell.
“Do you mind if I use the bathroom before we start makeup?” I question, turning in my chair to look at her. I need a moment alone, some fresh air maybe. I keep taking deep breaths, but I don’t feel as if I’m getting any oxygen into my lungs.
“No, go right ahead. It’s right across the stairs.” Michelle smiles, setting the makeup down. I tighten the robe they gave me to wear after the hot lava of wax treatment and head toward the bathroom.
“I’m just on my way to get some apparel, Mr. Blackwell,” echoes throughout the large house. I stop and peer over the banister, finding Landon stopping Gabe by the front door.
“How is she doing?” Landon questions, his hands in his pockets. His tone is laced with care, like he might actually be worried about me. I frown, not sure what to make of it.
“Beautiful. She looks amazing,” Gabe replies proudly.
“Hmm. I’m sure,” Landon remarks, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks almost nervous, and it’s kind of cute.
“I was thinking about getting a blue dress, or white, or maybe a short red dress with her dark hair—”
“Black.” Landon blurts, looking down at the floor.
“I beg your pardon?” Gabe questions, his voice taking a tone of surprise.
“Get a black dress.” Landon looks up at Gabe and shrugs. “Every woman should have a little black dress, isn’t that how the saying goes?” Landon hesitates, as if he didn’t mean to add his input.
“Uh, yeah. I will. I’ll find a black dress.” Gabe sounds almost confused, shocked that Landon offered any input on clothes.
Landon gives a firm nod before heading toward the stairs. I flinch and hide behind a pillar next to the banister, hoping he doesn’t see me. After the front door closes, I risk a look and find Landon and Gabe gone. Landon must have gone to his office.
I let out a heavy breath and scamper off toward the bathroom, not entirely sure what I just witnessed. Is Landon treating me like crap because I’m his escort? He’s trying to make me hate him, make it easier for him to walk away. Am I happy that it’s not personal, or angry he’s trying so hard?
FOURTEEN
CHARLIE
“Which one do you like better, Charlie? Black or red?” Gabe asks, holding up the two dresses. I take my gaze from the mirror, looking over the makeup Michelle just finished, to glance at the dresses.
My mouth hangs open when I see the black one. I stand from the chair and caress the material between my fingertips. The fabric is soft and new, no wear, stains or tears. It’ll cup my shoulders perfectly, and it looks like the sleeves go to my elbows. It has a large V-neck that will reach well below my breasts, making me swallow hard. My eyes follow the material down, knowing it will rest on my ankles or lower.
“Landon himself asked for this color,” Gabe announces, tossing the red toward the chair. I don’t even know what the red dress looks like, and I don’t care, either.
“He did?” Michelle questions, shocked.
“This one,” I whisper, taking the black dress from its hanger.
“Here, take these, too.” Gabe hands me a black thong and some black, strappy heels. I look at the heels, which are beautiful and weren’t stolen. My eyes fill with tears at the things i
n my hands. I’ve never had something so nice before, and by the looks of these, so expensive.
“Are you okay, hun?” Gabe mutters, rubbing my back for comfort. I nod, smile, and drop my robe to try them on.
After I dress and pull my hair from my neck, I turn to look in the mirror.
My eyes widen as I take in a sudden breath. I look… stunning. My hair is curly, shiny, and smells of strawberries. My makeup is subtle, with some light blush, lip gloss and smoky eye shadow. The dress is snug, showing my curves to perfection. I don’t look like a Barbie. I look like Barbie’s hot vixen cousin.
I look over at Michelle and Gabe, giving each other high-fives.
“I’ll find Landon for my next instructions,” I state, leaving them behind in a giggling mess.
I head down the stairs, my hand trailing along the banister before turning toward Landon’s office. My heart is beating a mile a minute, and my breathing comes in short spurts. I know I look good, and the bad girl in me wants to show it off, but my mind reminds me how Landon is a monster. He’s made me his puppet, and he’s the puppet master. I’m nothing but a figure to him in his pocket book. Just standing here outside his door, I can feel his strong energy from the other side, his smell making me second-guess whether or not he is a bad guy.
I don’t even knock, just open the door and enter.
“What is it?” Landon questions, his head tilted down as he scribbles across something on his desk. I don’t respond, just cat-walk to his desk and stand there, waiting for my next order. Landon huffs and glances up, doing a double-take. His eyes go wide and his mouth parts.
“Charlie,” he rasps.
“I’m…” I trail off, taken aback by his look of raw hunger. “I’m here for my next assignment,” I manage to spit out.
Landon pushes from his desk and stalks toward me, his eyes on fire and devouring every inch of my body.
“That dress, it’s perfect,” he groans, looking me up and down shamelessly. My body heats, heart pounding dangerously as my stomach knots and panties dampen.
“Well, you know, every woman needs a little black dress,” I remark nervously, looking at him from the corner of my eye.