And that was it. The only way. No matter how much my brain and my heart churned over and over and tried to work out whatever truth there was in the rumours and the confessions and the rules and the breaking of them, there were no answers that would change a thing for me in this space.
Only time. Taking punishment and orders however they were dished out to me. Counting down the days until my pay day was due and I could get back out into the world on my own to rescue my sister from her bad life choices as I struggled to process whatever bad brain fuck ups I’d made of my own.
“That’s what I’m going to do,” I confirmed. “Focus on the sixty days and forget about all of this from that point on. Just me and Phoebe and whatever pay out is hopefully gracing my bank account.”
“Good call,” she said. “If you have people coming in in a few days’ time, I guess that proves at least you’re popular, right?” Her laugh sounded little more than a sad little giggle. “Miss Popular for the fucked up folk on the other side of webcam, that’s something to mark down for your life achievements.”
I managed a sad little giggle right back. “Just what I always wished for.”
“Maybe he’ll be watching, Mr Perfect,” she said. “Maybe he’ll be tuning in to see how well you’re doing up here now he’s palmed you off to his partner.”
The thought really did give me a shiver. One of those gut trembling ones that shot right up my spine.
Even more worrying was the bloom in my stomach of wanting to please him, even now, despite everything his fucked up business partner had shared with me.
I was contemplating leaning in and telling Rebecca everything, spilling all the crap Mr Sinister had told me and more, just to hear her reaction, but I couldn’t. I didn’t get the chance before the door sounded fresh and swung open with the strength of someone bursting in.
We both flinched. Both stared wide-eyed as Mr Sinister himself came marching in and flicked the overhead lights on.
His eyes were narrow and angry. His brow was heavy. Jaw gritted.
My throat dried at the sight of him, even when he attempted to give a fake easy smile and beckoned me forward.
“Time for your first broadcast,” he said, firmly directed at me. “Only this one is… different…”
“Different?” I prompted, then corrected myself as I got to my feet with my heart in my throat. “Different, sir?”
He didn’t answer until I was next to him, his hand gripping my arm with another thinly masked aggravation I had no idea of the source of.
“Yes,” he said as he closed the door behind us, then pushed me directly in front of him, his eyes burning hard on mine. “I need you to address the viewers. Address your bidders. They need to know you’re ready to do their bidding. That you are ready for the sixty days. They need to know they’re going to come along here and have the best fucking experience ever.”
I nodded, and there was a strange niggle of something. Something at the edge of my consciousness. Something that said there was more going on at the edges of events that was too out of focus for me to make sense of.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I can talk to them. I’ll say whatever you want me to say.”
“That’s not it, Miss Emmerson,” he said, and directed me up and forward. “They have to fucking believe you, or believe me, your sixty days will be pointless. You’ll be back on your backside in regular life with fucking nothing. Forget the contract, forget every fucking thing but ending up back in your sad little regular life without a pay day, because that’s what will happen. We’re not a fucking charity. You earn nothing, you get nothing.”
“But I…” I began. “I thought they were booking up… I thought I had people wanting sessions… I thought people were all booked in…”
He didn’t let me slow down as we headed upstairs, and my heart was pounding hard. Harder than the pace demanded.
“Please,” I continued. “I want this… I need this… I’m committed to my sixty days… I’m committed to whatever I need to be. Just tell me what I need to do…”
“Make them fucking believe,” he said, and shoved me on through into the dungeon room.Chapter TenBrandonIt was done. Notification delivered to the full client base. Irreversible, even if I’d wanted to undo the click of that mouse button.
I didn’t.
There was an undeniable rumble of a thrill running deep as I watched the icons shift from delivered to viewed one by one. A pulse of satisfaction as clients around the world clicked on my message and digested the content. The kind of content I’d never been known to send in my entire business history.