Surrender Your Heart

by Raven J. Spencer

  With regret in her expression, she lets go. “You should put on some clothes then.”

  “Why do you care?”

  A wry smile curves her lips. “I don’t, but we might run into someone. I don’t want them to get the wrong impression.”

  “What is the right impression? What do you want them to think—or me?”

  Carter answers my question, this time leaving no doubt as she steps into my personal place again and kisses me, spiraling me even deeper into confusion. Her lips are warm and soft, mine opening to her instinctively, a split-second, before I tear myself away.

  She was right. There’s nothing of much worth in my apartment, or my life for that matter. Detours, stories that ended or stalled before they began for real. An uncertain future. Would it be any better if I just give in?

  I avoid her gaze as I grab a shirt and pants and slip into a pair of flat sandals. “Okay. I’m ready. Now where’s that library?”

  My cheeks are still burning. I need to see this through though—the more I learn about the layout of the house, the better. It will serve me sometime soon.

  * * * *

  The surprises never end. This time, she leads me deeper into the maze of rooms, and after a few minutes, I give up every hope I could remember the way. In fact if I tried to escape in here, I’d probably get lost and die.

  The library is a thing of stunning beauty, something, under normal circumstances, I would have drooled over. Dark wood, floor to ceiling shelves with ladders, a spiral staircase leading to the upper level.

  “The sociology section is up to date,” she explains. “There’s some psychology, women’s studies, literature. I know you’re interested in those. There’s a bit of everything. If you’d like some fiction, I can give you an e-reader on which you’ll find classics, contemporary and all kinds of genre fiction. Please understand I can’t allow any internet access.”

  I can’t even find a sarcastic comeback, staring in awe at the many shelves going up to the ceiling, some leather-bound collections. This is only the non-fiction section? If I’d known this she wouldn’t have had to go to all this trouble to get me here. Why, a ticket to a private retreat on the beach, complete with a library, I’m there! This is not how it happened. I drank a glass of wine on my couch and woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom.

  It’s not romantic.

  It’s a crime.

  I turn to her, see her watching me with a proud gaze. No doubt it takes someone clever—and crazy rich—to come up with all of this. I’m sure she’s proud of herself, and the way I nearly caved a moment earlier.

  “What if I say no to all of this? I mean…It’s great. You have a beautiful home and obviously, lots of money to spend. It’s a dream, but what if it’s not my dream?”

  “Give me time,” she says, “I’ll show you.”

  The warm inviting tone sends a shiver down my spine. I want to leave this disturbing fantasy, and I don’t. My mind is not my own anymore, and it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced.

  “Maybe you will.” I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. Her smile tells me that in her world, maybe is not an option. It’s the world I’m living in now—if I don’t find my way out of this castle. Enchanted or cursed, I have yet to determine.

  “It’s been a long day,” Carter amends. “We’ll talk some more tomorrow. You need to rest now.”

  What I need is to memorize every step we are taking between this room and “my” bedroom. It might come in handy sometime soon. My lips still tingle.

  * * * *

  The nightgowns, like the underwear, aren’t exactly practical, but deceptively and irresistibly pleasant on my skin. The black satin comes down to my knees, lined with lace in all the right parts.

  One year. I can’t disappear for a year, just like that, and who guarantees that Carter Forbes will keep her promise?

  I can see the disbelief in my face as I stand in front of the mirror once more, unable to look away, unable to deny the sensations that come with the feel of high quality clothes, the memory of her lips on mine. I shouldn’t yield like this. It’s true, I haven’t dated in some time, always busy with classes, tests and the job, but that’s only supposed to be temporary. There’s a life waiting for me after my degree—isn’t there?

  I can’t think about this now. I have to clear my mind, start over. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.

  The pillow is incredibly soft when I press my face into it, my body sinking into the mattress. Uncertainty is exhausting. Soon I’m on the verge of falling asleep, so I’m not sure whether or not the sensation comes from a dream, or my new surreal reality. There’s not much of a difference anyway. Fingertips brush along my calves, so lightly it could be the breeze coming through the window…wait. The window isn’t open.

  “Don’t move,” Carter whispers, keeping up the light caress. Only this time, her fingers wander higher, underneath the fabric. I hold my breath. They move back down slowly, all the way to my feet. She begins a gentle massage. I can’t hold back the gasp.

  “Does that feel good?” She knows damn well it does. I’m overly aware of her touch, and everywhere my skin touches fabric, my nipples tightening. One sensation blurs into another, arousal pooling between my thighs, warm and liquid. Every time her thumb presses into the sole of my foot, there’s an answering jolt of pleasure, irrational and undeniable. Right, it makes total sense that the villain in this story has knowledge in the area of sexy acupressure. Carter moves to my other foot, giving it the same loving attention—sorcery. I can’t tell if she’s really that good, or if I’m too impressed with the setup, her coming to my room in the dark of night, starting the process of—what?

  I’m in her hands. She loves it. I’m not rejecting the idea like any sane person would, which leads me to the inevitable notion that perhaps neither of us was sane to begin with. Why, it seems like the perfect match.

  My idle musings stop abruptly when she gets up. She leans over me for a brief kiss to the neck. I hear her retreating footsteps and a moment later, the door is falling into the lock.

  Damn her. I was about to fall asleep earlier, but my body is awake now, tingling, longing.

  What if she plans to sell me to traffickers? Make no mistake, there are women who participate in these crimes. I don’t think that’s going to happen, not really, because obviously she wants me all to herself.

  That doesn’t mean she’ll always be friendly.

  Chapter Three

  The house is quiet when I wake up, the sunrise making for a spectacular view when I walk to the window barefoot and peek out between blades. I have to tell her to open the blinds—it’s not like I’m going to throw myself through the window. I try, for a moment, to reflect on my situation, my options, the fact that I nearly came under her hands, from a foot massage no less. It’s too pathetic and embarrassing, I decide. Focus on the small steps. Shower. Find something to wear.

  What if one day, or today, she forgets about me, leaving me locked up in here to starve? If that’s crazy, well, what she did isn’t any less crazy. I wonder who did that, going through my papers to get the ones she ordered, getting me into a car—I suppose—and then a plane when I was unconscious, delivering me to her like some package.

  A mail order bride.

  I can’t help it, I start laughing hysterically as I stand in the bathroom after the shower, wrapped in a pristine white towel. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and then I start to cry, big pathetic sobs. I’ll never see my family or friends ever again. I have fallen into the reality of those romance novels, only it isn’t an alpha male book boyfriend who came for me, but this gorgeous, troubled woman. With some difficulty, I pull myself together, wash my face and head for the closet. Shorts, a shirt, I look for what’s most casual. I quickly comb my hair, brush my teeth and then return to the bedroom to wait.

  I don’t have to wait long, and somewhere in the back of my mind a thought forms: There might be cameras in here. How else does she always know? Something els
e comes to mind: There is no clock. Another little thing obviously designed to keep me at her mercy, off balance.

  Carter walks inside, not the least bit troubled by the questions that haunt me. She’s dressed casually as well, jeans that deliberately look worn and soft, and a tank top. I am angry at her, and at myself for thinking she looks amazing.

  “Good morning, Penelope,” she says, smiling, as if she’s happy to find me still here. Where the hell would I go?

  “Only my grandmother called me that.”

  “Well, I’m going to call you that. Penny is for little girls, and you’re clearly all grown up.”

  “All right then, it’s not like I can stop you, is it?”

  Her gaze softens. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right!” I take a deep breath, forcing the emotions still simmering under the surface, further down. “You owe me some answers. Somebody broke into my home and took me, and I have no idea what else they did to me in the process.”

  There’s a stormy look on her face I’m not sure how to interpret. Her words are clarification enough though.

  “You don’t have to worry. I wouldn’t hire anyone for a delicate job who doesn’t do exactly as I tell them. I only work with people I can trust, but I can assure you, if anyone had touched you inappropriately, they’d be punished.”

  “A lot of good that would do me, after the fact,” I scoff. “You are spying on me in here, watching me naked?”

  Carter’s gaze is devoid of an apology which tells me the answer is yes, and no, she’s not sorry. “It’s for your protection. You never know how someone reacts to—”

  “Taking away their freedom? Imprisonment?”

  “People are different,” she simply says. “You can’t predict everything.”

  “You don’t say. So you’ve done this before?”

  “I know we still have some subjects to tackle, but I’m not willing to do that on an empty stomach. Come on.”

  Just like that, I’m robbed of the opportunity to have a meltdown or try to run away, bang my fists against the door and demand of her to let me go. I am actually hungry. I am worried about…everything, new issues springing up every moment. Will everyone in my life accept that I ran away without telling them? Will they be pissed…call the police?”

  I can’t help being impressed by the small buffet that’s waiting for us in the dining room, small if you were going to feed a dozen people, still far too much for two. Rich people, abundance, and more than half of it is going to be wasted. People like her don’t have a care in the world—why would I believe for a second she could care for me? I’m a toy to her, an object, something she bought for her entertainment. With the help of trusted employees. I’m not sure how much longer I can take these mixed emotions, a wild kaleidoscope really, without going insane.

  Her hand is on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. “Take your time. There’s no rush with what we have to discuss.”

  “Do you never think about starving kids?” I blurt out.

  “Sure I do,” Carter says, and I can’t find a trace of sarcasm in her voice. “If that makes you feel better, I can show you my charity expenses. Meanwhile, everyone in this house still needs to eat, including you and me.”

  There’s smoked salmon, fresh fruit, fluffy pastries, eggs and bacon. Juice and champagne. She answers my questioning look with a shrug. “Whatever you want. I don’t start that early on the alcohol when I work, but these are special circumstances.”

  “So you have time to hang out here with me all day? Oh, to be privileged.”

  I sit down with my plate, blushing when I realize how full it is. “Just so you know, I’m still freaked out by all of this, but the food looks amazing. I was brought up to be polite, so thank you.”

  She can’t hide the smile, and I have to make an effort not to return it. It’s too easy, treacherous. I want to believe she’s not some crazy psychopath, but I can’t help thinking it takes one to plan another person’s abduction. The fact that I’m not tied up in a dark basement is what—luck? I need coffee, a lot of it, to even begin to start dealing with the day.

  “You’re welcome. While we eat, I can go over the house rules with you. I believe that two weeks will help to ease you into a discipline…”

  I nearly choke on a piece of delicious buttery croissant.

  “What do you mean? If I do or say something you don’t like, you’ll spank me?”

  “Not that kind of discipline.”

  I’m not entirely assured though. I’ve seen the flash of…something, amusement, interest, I’m not sure.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not your scene, and let me tell you it’s not mine either,” Carter says. “What I mean is the everyday life you and I are going to have together.”

  Okay, that’s only marginally better. Is it? “You kidnapped me and locked me up. That’s the kind of life we have together. Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

  The memory comes without warning, last night when she came to my room, the way she touched me. I assumed it won’t be the last time. In my mind, I am at war with a part of me that doesn’t want it to be the last time. I can’t feel this way.

  “It’s a given that you’ll miss classes and tests, but you’ll have the opportunity to keep up so your integration can be seamless if you still choose to follow that path.”

  “How?” I don’t understand.

  “You never liked the apartment anyway, so I paid the bills for the next three months. You won’t have to worry about any of it.”

  Just great. Once I escape from here, wherever here is, I’ll be homeless.

  “Your tuition is paid as well so you won’t be expelled. As I said, I can’t have you go to exams, but that doesn’t mean you can’t study and prepare to take them next year. All the materials you need will be available to you.”

  How? I almost say it out loud, but I don’t want to sound stupid. I assume she’ll reveal the truth to me bit by bit, to keep me on my toes.

  “I told you, there’s an extensive sociology section in the library, but I also have the schedule for the next two semesters for you. You can start whenever you like, except I’d like you to take the next couple of weeks to relax.”

  “You didn’t take me here so I could take a sabbatical and study whenever I feel like it.”

  “No,” she agrees, but doesn’t elaborate. “I want to show you something.”

  I’ve been so distracted by the extensive breakfast choices I paid no attention to the box sitting on the table on the other side of the room, or maybe I did and banned it from my consciousness. For all I know, they could contain sex toys and whips. Even now, I approach it with apprehension. The content is nothing scary, but another reason to be dumbfounded. I get the feeling Carter Forbes enjoys that a lot.

  The box is filled with books, shiny new hard covers, fiction, all genres. I sent a dubious look at Carter who looks pleased.

  “You missed your book club, and I know it’s important to you. This is what they chose for the next few months—I though you might like to catch up on those too.”

  I’m still not sure whether I should be impressed or insulted. She has made an effort of getting to know me within a small amount of time. Frankly, after long nights of studying and extra shifts at the café, I dreamed of a timeout, having nothing to do but put up my feet and immerse myself in a book. Having so little time for anything that was not work or study, even reading the books for the club had become a chore. She offers me a fantasy on a silver platter.

  But nothing in life is ever for free.

  “You buy me books and expect what in return? Sexual favors? Is that why you came to my room, feeling me up yesterday, to start out slow and easy?”

  Carter studies me without a hint of self-consciousness. Her words are a complete contradiction to her demeanor. “We don’t have to start slow and easy.” I haven’t yet recovered from my reaction to this statement when she continues. “I believe though that it will serve both of us.
You’ll see.”

  She takes my hand. I don’t pull away.

  “We’ll figure this out together,” she says, confidently, as if it’s the only way this can go. Maybe she’s right about it.

  “I have to make a few calls,” Carter continues while I’m still pondering her words. Together. “You can start on these if you want, or have another coffee, whatever you like. Maybe we’ll go down to the pool later. Look, you can have a vacation too. There are no classes at the moment, and you don’t need to worry about money anymore. Allow yourself to relax.”

  I want to make a smart comment, but what comes out instead is a laugh.

  “Well, sure. I’ll try that. Thank you for the books.”

  “You’re welcome.” She leans in once more to brush her lips against my cheek, making me shiver, before she leaves. I wait for the sound of the door to be locked, but it doesn’t come. She left the door open for me. I sent another look towards the box, the perfect gift to get someone on my good side, and the table from where the smell of coffee and fresh food is still beckoning.

  Hard choices. As I slip out of the room, I still feel the phantom touch of her lips. I feel like it’s not enough.

  * * * *

  Carter did this on purpose. I believe that with everything she has planned so painstakingly, every bit of freedom is calculated. I try to memorize every corner of the hallways, left, left, right, I think the library must be here somewhere. I feel like Ariadne trying to remember her way out of the labyrinth, realizing I don’t know what happened to her in the end. It doesn’t matter. In mythology, a woman’s curiosity is rarely rewarded, on the contrary. Then again, this isn’t a labyrinth, but a crazy rich woman’s luxury retreat. Chances are there are cameras everywhere. If I get lost, she’ll be looking for me. She’ll find me.

  The thought is comforting.

  I find the library eventually, once again stunned by its beauty. I walk along the shelves, touch the leather-bound volumes. Along with the human sciences and classics, there are dictionaries and encyclopedias. Everything.