Glamour
Page 14
Her entire body clenched. He couldn’t possibly mean what he was saying. The concrete dug into her knees as her toes bent uncomfortably. She couldn’t imagine staying this way. “How long?”
Her stomach again rumbled.
Dexter smiled as he stood. “I almost forgot.”
The buzz filled the air as he walked behind her. She was facing the bed, but the warm air entering the room told her the door was open and that it was warmer beyond the doorway. If only she could turn and look, but just as quickly, Dexter was back, carrying a tray.
“I’d planned to discuss so much more, all my expectations and rules for our relationship. I’d planned to do that over coffee and pastries. They really do make amazing baked goods here. The Sachertorte is my favorite.” He removed the cloth napkin, uncovering a tray.
The aroma of coffee and rum-infused cake replaced the musty air. Like Pavlov’s dog, her mouth watered.
Dexter set the tray on the bed, turned over one of the cups and poured rich, warm coffee from the decanter. Bringing the cup to his lips, he hummed. “It’s too hot, but the mug feels nice and warm.” He sat the mug on the tray. The plate was filled with Sachertorte, a famous Austrian cake.
Did that mean they were in Austria? Or did they serve that in Germany?
Natalie couldn’t think as her lips parted in a silent plea and her fingers ached to touch the warmth of the cup.
“I had plans, bug. Plans that you decided weren’t to your liking. Plans you sabotaged by disobeying.” He poured the second mug. “This would have been yours.” He shrugged. “I suppose technically it still is.”
Her heart raced. Yes, even coffee would help her hunger.
He placed the full mug on the tray. “Good girls get rewards. Bad girls are punished. Don’t move and don’t even think about touching this tray. You didn’t earn it.”
The tears were back again.
What could he do that would be worse? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as bad as starving on the cold floor, could it?
Dexter stood. “Whatever you’re thinking, I promise your imagination can’t begin to conjure the possibilities.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her hair. “Don’t test me. Bugs can be squished.” He ground the toe of his boot into the floor and then moved it toward her knees, spreading them even wider, exposing her core and causing her thighs to ache. “I’ll be watching.”
And then there was another buzz, a gust of warm air, and the closing of the door.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.
Her eyes closed. Perhaps she could forget about the tray, but it was impossible while the scrumptious aroma surrounded her. Seeing it within her reach was a sick kind of torture. With each passing minute, her toes ached more and more. Even her thighs called out in pain.
Perhaps it was hunger, perhaps the effect of the drug, but as time passed, her head began to bob, to fall forward, as her eyes fought to stay open. Each time it fell, she’d pull it back. Through it all, her shoulders screamed out. No longer could she feel her extremities. The tingly sensation had passed; now there was only heavy nothingness.
Natalie didn’t know how long she’d been there. There was no way to measure time.
She assessed the clues. The light through the window was now brighter. The coffee was no longer warm as no steam came from the dark, rich liquid. Though she hadn’t drunk, her bladder again felt full.
And then it happened. The buzz sounded.
Dexter was back.
Chapter Nine
Some things are so unexpected that no one is prepared for them.
~ Leo Rosten
Natalie talked to herself throughout this punishment or whatever it was—Dexter’s power trip. She didn’t do it audibly: he could see so it was possible he could also hear. She spoke in her mind. It helped her stay awake as she convinced herself she could do whatever she needed to do to survive. She could fight his ice with ice, his commands head-on, until she found herself on the other side of the door, back in the sunlight, and then she’d run.
No matter where he had her, what country, there had to be a US embassy. Her father was wealthy and influential. He had friends and business associates all over the world. He would move heaven and hell for her. Of that, she had no doubt.
Natalie wouldn’t be forgotten or allowed to disappear simply because she supposedly decided not to meet her family. No matter who that other woman was, Dexter’s plan was flawed. Natalie’s immediate family may be in Nice, but that didn’t mean that her father didn’t have people all over the world. The abrupt change in plans would serve as a red flag signaling Phil’s people to track the other Natalie. Once they discovered that she was an imposter, it would be all over the international channels: Natalie Rawlings was missing.
As time passed and her extremities lost feeling, she’d tried to come up with Dexter’s motivation. Since she was sitting—no, make that kneeling—on a concrete floor in basically a dungeon, naked, the sexual component was obvious, but there had to be more. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the more was money. Anthony and Claire Rawlings’s daughter was a valuable commodity.
All of her life her parents had preached caution and safety. The cameras and bodyguards seemed second nature while at the same time overkill. She’d never in twenty years seen or felt a threat. Had there been some and Phil’s team had thwarted them? Had everyone in her father’s world kept the specifics away from her to protect her?
What had that false sense of security cost her?
She recalled times when she’d pondered a life away from the watchful eyes of her father’s security. It wasn’t that the security bothered her. Knowing she was watched hadn’t changed her plans or behavior, because it always was. Yet there’d been a part of her that longed for a simpler life than living up to the standard set by Nichol.
Getting away from the Rawlings expectations had sounded like a dream. If this was it, the reality was a nightmare. The realization created more tears. Each one burnt a trail down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw and landing in a warm, salty splash on her cold breasts. Each tear took a piece of her soul until the pieces begged for glue—for a way to come back together.
Her hope was her knowledge and confidence in her family. They would never hesitate to monetarily pay for her return. It was her goal to convince Dexter that they’d pay more if she were returned unharmed—unsoiled, so to speak.
Buzz.
Natalie’s chin snapped upward. Despite her crying, her tears were now dry and nose had ceased to run. Her plan was in place. She’d had her breakdown. Now it was time to appear strong and indifferent, the same way he appeared. If Dexter wanted to believe she would play his sick game, she’d let him.
Still facing the bed and the tray of untouched food and drink, Natalie couldn’t see what was happening behind her, only hear. There were footsteps and wheels.
Wheels? Did she hear wheels moving over the hard floor, like a cart?
If only she could turn, but she refused to give him another reason to retaliate. Instead, her mind filled with possibilities. She pictured the carts used by the staff at the estate in Iowa that brought food to the dining room or to the suites. There were the carts used in hotels when room service was summoned. Each of her thoughts had a common denominator—food.
Her stomach had surpassed grumbling, giving up as it had grown accustomed to emptiness. That was, until the new sounds revived it: a pang and softer rumble murmured in the damp, musty air.
She closed her eyes and tried to summon non-food alternatives. There were the carts the maids used at the estate as well as in hotels, ones with bedding and supplies. That possibility even excited her. A towel for the bath or a sheet for the bed. Such simple needs.
Natalie pushed down her expectations. If she didn’t hope, Dexter couldn’t disappoint. She feared that would be worse than more punishment.
As each second ticked by, marked by the tap of his shoes upon the concrete, she began to wonder if he planned to talk, to a
cknowledge her obedience—anything. The anticipation of what may occur brought her tired, aching body back to life, restoring the circulation and bringing needles to her veins. The new rush created a painful and prickling sensation.
Natalie stifled a cry, biting her lower lip, careful to stay silent and vowing to keep secret her suffering. And then Dexter changed the rules by giving her what she feared most—hope.
The door shut with a thud. Before she could fathom that he’d left her again, Natalie wobbled as the heat enveloped her.
His lips came close to her neck as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “I’m very proud of you, my bug.” He kissed her hair.
It wasn’t just a blanket. It was warm like the cloths on the airplane or a garment recently removed from a heated dryer. The plush heat tingled her cold skin. The circulation that had resumed, generated by anticipation, now sprinted to life. The temperature was heaven. Its consequences were hell. Pleasure and pain. Natalie didn’t know which was the cause of her tears.
Dexter crouched beside her, wrapped the blanket tighter. And then with his hands on her shoulders, he asked if she could stand.
Natalie stared.
There was something different in his gaze.
“Bug, answer me.”
She tried to reach up. Her arms were dead weight, lifting them only a few inches took all her strength. Her legs were nothing more than noodled pincushions. It was as if her bones had lost their rigidity. She shook her head. “I-I don’t think so.”
What would he say? Would he be upset?
Dexter nodded and stood. Her heart sank. Would he leave her there?
After removing the tray from the bed and placing it on the floor, in one swoop he reached down and lifted Natalie from the floor, pulling her into his arms as if she weighed nothing.
Nat cried out as her toes and legs exploded in pain. It was worse than any cramp or charley horse she’d ever experienced. Gritting her teeth, she buried her face against his broad chest.
She hadn’t meant to find comfort in his attention, but she did. His shirt smelled like fresh air—clean and cool, so unlike her surroundings—while his cologne added just the right amount of musk and spice.
With her cradled in his arms, Dexter sat upon the bed.
She didn’t know what to say or do. This wasn’t the same man who’d made her kneel for hours on end. It was, but it wasn’t. In her deprived state, her thoughts couldn’t keep up.
“Tell me,” Dexter said.
Natalie looked up to his face. There was something different in his tone as well as his stare. Maybe it was hunger making Natalie delusional. She couldn’t be sure, but for some reason she wanted to answer. “My toes…” Her eyes closed, her lashes dampened with tears. “My legs…”
“They hurt?”
Natalie nodded.
Balancing her on his lap and against his chest, Dexter reached for her foot and his large hand squeezed.
Pain shot up her leg. Natalie screamed, louder than before.
“No, bug,” he said soothingly. “It’ll get better. Give it a minute.”
Biting her lip, she watched as he massaged one foot and then the other. He was right: the prickling subsided and before she knew it, they felt better.
“Remember my saying that the rush of blood to starved tissues can be more painful than the pressure?”
She nodded.
“That’s what happened.” He kissed her forehead. “I didn’t think you’d make it. I really didn’t. You’re so much stronger than I realized.”
His words flowed through her, providing the same effect as the blanket. She didn’t want to like pleasing this man, but she did. She enjoyed this tone, the way he held her and wiped her cheeks. And then he placed her upon the edge of the mattress and stood. All at once, she was hit with the startling realization that she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be left alone again, even with the blanket.
“Dexter? Are you going?”
When he turned, his lips parted. There was something new in his gaze: shock or surprise. She was too sore and hungry to understand.
He dropped to one knee and placed his hand over her blanket-covered leg. “Say that again.” His command wasn’t urgent, more of a request.
“I-I’m sorry if I shouldn’t…” This was all so new. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say.
Caressing her blanket-covered thigh, he explained, “No, just say what you said, exactly as you said it. I want to hear it again.”
“Are you going?”
His head shook. “My name. You said my name.”
“Dexter?”
“It’s the first time you’ve said it.”
She blinked. “It was?”
Again, his knuckle ran the length of her jaw. “Yes, bug. And I like hearing it from your lips.”
“Are you leaving again?”
“No, not yet.” He reached for her hands. “Now can you stand?”
The feeling was back in her legs. Gingerly, she shifted her weight to her feet and rose. Her legs quivered and her feet were heavy, but his grasp of her hands gave her the extra needed leverage. Like a newborn deer, she stood unsteadily.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Sore, but I can stand.”
“And walk?”
Natalie nodded.
Dexter tilted his head toward the bathroom. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll give you privacy. When you come back out, we’ll have the talk we didn’t have this morning.”
She tugged the blanket around her, but after only a step, she stopped. “May I…” It felt strange to ask for such a mundane thing. Dexter said they’d discuss the rules, but they hadn’t. She wanted to be sure she wouldn’t upset him. She’d do whatever was necessary to avoid the cement floor. “…may I keep the blanket…around me?”
He nodded. “I think for now…you earned it.”
“Thank you.” Nat hurried toward the bathroom as too many different emotions fought for supremacy.
Somehow, after everything, it was gratitude that prevailed.
Her mind told her she was being ridiculous. Grateful for a blanket? Yet she was. She could cover herself in the bathroom. She could keep it wrapped around her while they talked. Yesterday, she would have told herself it was silly to be thankful for a blanket. That was before.
Today, her life was different.
Chapter Ten
The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.
~ Ernest Hemingway
Natalie came to a stop, standing unmoving in the bathroom’s doorframe while contemplating the possibility that Dexter had been right and she was delusional. Hunger and stress can be triggering factors. Sleep deprivation is another. She’d slept, but more accurately, she’d been drugged. Wasn’t that different?
“Come and sit,” he said, turning and catching her stare.
Tentatively, she moved forward, the blanket snug around her.
In the brief time she’d been in the bathroom, he’d set up a small round folding table with two chairs. The cart she’d heard before was now in the room. Two covered dishes, a decanter, and a large glass bottle of water were upon it.
Natalie eased into the chair he pulled out.
“This is still,” he said, pointing to the water. “I can bring sparkling next time, if you prefer.”
She shook her head. “I like still, thank you.”
Definitely delusional, having a surreal conversation discussing water as if she weren’t wearing a blanket and at Dexter’s mercy.
He placed the dishes upon the table. The cake from earlier was gone. In its place were large grilled sandwiches that emitted the most amazing aroma. A side salad of leafy greens and vegetables sat beside it on the plate.
When she began to reach for the sandwich, he stopped her. “Not yet. Patience.”
Dejectedly, she placed her hand on her lap. Would he again tease her with food and then not allow her to eat?
Dexter plac
ed a mug on the table and poured from the decanter. It wasn’t the dark, rich coffee aroma she’d anticipated; instead, the liquid was lighter in color. The steam filled the air with a familiar scent. Before she could decipher the flavor, Dexter spoke.
“Ginger tea. It should help your muscles.”
“Thank you.”
He took the other seat and scanned their meal.
“Tell me, bug. What do you want?”
Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips together and compiled. Her list was simple and yet comprehensive: her life back, freedom, outside, her family, sunlight, clothes, a shower…
The movement of the other chair caused her eyes to open. Dexter was no longer across the table, he was directly in front of her, his face in hers. She gasped.
“Don’t hesitate.” His harsher tone was more commanding. “When I ask you a question, don’t overthink. Answer immediately or lose the opportunity until I feel generous again.”
“To eat. I want to eat.” It was the obtainable goal. There were bigger wishes she wanted granted, but at this second, as her hands shook with hunger, food was paramount. She scanned the table. She also wanted the ginger tea.
It had never been her favorite flavor, yet she knew the Chinese believed it to have healing qualities. While her legs were better, the muscles were tight. “And drink, tea…please,” she added.
Slowly, his chest expanded and contracted and nostrils flared. It was obvious that he was thinking, contemplating. She just didn’t know what he’d decide.
How does one predict the moves of a madman?
“No more warnings,” he said. “Keep rule number one in mind.”
“You don’t repeat yourself,” she said, remembering his rule.
Her breathing stalled as he tugged the top of the blanket, lowering it from up around her neck to below her collarbone and lower still. Natalie’s eyes closed. She wanted to stop him, to scream or reach up and scratch his hand, but she knew that none of that was within her power. When she opened her eyes, in her current seated position with Dexter standing, she couldn’t help but notice his arousal. As his hand lingered, her skin chilled.