Keep(Romanian Mob Chronicles 1)(6)

I let my eyes touch everything except the huge bed that took up one corner of the space. Silly really, because people like him, dangerous ones, didn’t need beds to inflict their damage. But better to not even give him the reminder.

He went through a door, and I heard water turn on.

I stayed still, but when the faucet clicked off, something inside me bounded to action, and I moved back as quickly as my heels would allow, arm outstretched as I groped for the door handle.

“You don’t want to do that. It will make a loud noise. And then my men will come and kill you.”

His voice was ice cold, the truth of his words clear. And the calm with which he spoke, the absolute certainty I was completely at his mercy, had my heart pounding so hard all other sound was drowned out.

He walked toward me, the black T-shirt that he wore doing more to emphasize his massive chest than it did to cover it.

He reached out a hand. “Take that off,” he said, gesturing toward my face.

“Oh…” I said and then trailed off.

“Oh” had been the best I could come up with. Fucking great.

He stuck his hand out again, and I grabbed the wet cloth he held, not wanting to anger him.

I started to wipe away the thick coat of makeup, peeled off the false eyelashes. And despite myself, I felt relief. I hated the makeup, but like the heels, the dress, David required it, and I did what I was told or faced the consequences.

After I wiped my face as thoroughly as I could, I lifted newly lightened eyelids and looked up at him. He stared at me, assessing, his height and heavily muscled body making me feel insubstantial, something I was not accustomed to.

“That too,” he said, nodding at the long tendrils of hair that trailed over my breasts and down my back.

“Okay,” I said, hoping my voice was calm and placating, not wanting to set him off.

Like the makeup, I had no love for the wig, so I loosened it and then tossed it aside with no qualms, the brush of cool air against my scalp a relief. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how I looked, almost me above the neck, below still purely David’s creation.

He stared, glass-shard eyes revealing nothing as he took in every inch of me.

The confusing tumble of emotions that ripped through me left me almost dizzy. His gaze was mysterious but not shy, and I sensed no threat in it at the moment, not that I trusted my evaluations. But still, it felt like he was seeing me. The real me. Something no one had seen for years.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought.

Then he turned abruptly, and I jumped ever so slightly as if awoken from a dream.

He went to the small dresser, removed a black T-shirt that seemed identical to the one he wore, and walked back over to me, arm extended.

“Wear this.”

I looked at the garment, the huge tattooed hand that held it, and then those green eyes, wondering where this was headed. His eyes still revealed nothing, but so far he hadn’t harmed me, had been almost gentlemanly. But I knew well how that could change in an instant and hoped my next question wasn’t a turning point.

“Is there a bathroom?” I asked timidly as I took the shirt.

He inclined his head to the left, the room where he’d gone before, and I toddled toward it, my heels clicking loud and uneven on the floor. I couldn’t tell whether it was concrete or marble in the darkness of the night, but each little click-clack seemed louder than the one before it, though all were still drowned out by the pounding of my heart. I felt his eyes on me as I walked, tried to keep steady, not show the fear that coursed through me.

When I went into the bathroom, I took a chance on closing the door. And then I locked it. Standing in complete blackness, my heart pounding, I imagined he’d come rushing in, rip the door open as he raged about me doing something like that without permission, about me keeping secrets, trying to hide things from him. But I heard nothing and as I stood in the darkness for long moments, my heart again slowed.

Groping at the wall, I searched until I found a light switch, lowering my lids when I flicked it on to combat the harsh glow.

Then I set about my task, pulled off the dress and then stepped out of the heels and garter David had insisted I wear. I kept the bra on, though the flimsy material showed my nipples, and did little to support the weight of my breasts, something that was apparent when I pulled the black T-shirt over my head.

It pulled snug over my chest, then bunched at my waist, pulling tight over my hips and thighs. I tried to tell myself that it was no more revealing than that dress, but it was a lie. The man was much taller than me, but my curves shortened the shirt and put what little of my body had been left to the imagination completely out in the open.

I tugged at the hem, trying to make the shirt as long as I could, and then I flicked off the light and exited the bathroom.