“Yes!” I interrupt him, unable to stop myself. “I tried to explain to Kaito, but he wouldn’t listen. I didn’t agree to this. I agreed to work off my debt in London, where I live—I have to go home. Please, let me go. My brother needs me—”
“Non.”The one word, uttered swiftly, coldly, in French, brings everything to a screeching halt. My mouth drops open, and I stare at him, but Alexandre’s gaze is unflinching.
“You are my gift,” he repeats as if I simply didn’t understand the first time. “You are mine now, Noelle. My pet.”
“Yourwhat?” I exclaim, but he continues as if I hadn’t spoken at all.
“If you are a good pet,” Alexandre says, “I’ll allow you privileges. But bad pets are punished, Noelle. There are rules in this house, and I expect you to abide by them. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard, feeling confusion wash over me.Apet? What does he mean by that?
“I will explain more once you’ve bathed and had something to eat.” He gestures towards a narrow door in the far right corner of the room. “The bathroom is that way. There are some clothes in the closet that may fit you. Once you have bathed, I’ll bring you food, and we can talk further.”
Without another word, he turns to go, closing the door sharply behind him. I’m not surprised to hear it lock. I wait a few minutes to make sure he’s not coming back immediately, and then I slowly slip out of the bed, my heart racing.
London to Tokyo to Paris.I’m closer to my brother than I was before, but it still might as well be a million miles away if I can’t leave this apartment. I still don’t have money, a passport, or any way home. I’m still trapped, even if I’m much closer than before.
What did he mean anyway, apet?The word makes me cringe. I’d been prepared to service some men in a speakeasy basement a few miles from home, to let go of my dignity in order to do that and clear the debts hanging over our heads. I hadn’t been prepared to be shipped all over the world, only to end up with a strange man who seems to intend on keeping me.
That last thought sends terror bubbling up in me.A person can’t keep another person, I tell myself, but I know very well that’s not true. Girls disappear all the time, especially in the part of town we live in. I’m not so naïve that I didn’t know about human trafficking, about sex slavery, about all the terrible things that can happen to a woman who walks into the wrong room, who trusts the wrong person, who lets down her guard at the wrong time. I just hadn’t expected it to beme.
I’d thought I could waltz in and offer up my terms, and that those sharks would be happy to accept them.
In short, I’d been a fucking idiot. And now I’m paying for it.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to keep a leash on my fear. Panicking won’t help. Lashing out won’t help. Angering this strange man who I’ve been gifted to won’t help. I can’t lose control.
I have to get back to Georgie, and if that means pacifying Alexandre Sartre, then that’s what I’ll do.He’d saidgood pets get rewards. So no matter how much those words make me cringe, I decide as I step into the bathroom, that’s how I’m going to face this. I’m going to try to pacify him, to please him, and then maybe he’ll reconsider.
If I can get him to trust me, maybe I can convince him to reward me by letting me go home to visit Georgie. And then I’ll go straight to the police.I don’t doubt this man is rich, but surely no amount of money can keep him from being arrested with the evidence staring them in the face. Maybe he, or Kaito Nakamura, is even on some Interpol list somewhere. Men of interest, whose names are already known. Maybe it won’t be a surprise when I go to the police.
I tell myself all this as I bathe, trying to calm myself down. I’ve always felt better when I have a plan, and that’s what this is. A plan to keep myself sane, to hang on to some small fragment of hope.
It’s not as luxurious as Kaito’s mansion, but my bath is still a sight better than anything I had at home. The entire bathroom is dusty and disused, like the rest of my room. Still, the toiletries are all in French, smelling of lavender and rose, and I pour some bath oil into the clawfoot tub as I sink into the steaming hot water. The lingerie is crumpled in a corner, tossed aside, and I wonder if I can find some way to throw it out without him noticing. So far, he hasn’t made sexual advances toward me, and I don’t want him to.
Noelle, you little idiot. If he wants to fuck you, lingerie isn’t going to make a difference.
Part of me still thinks about what I had back at Kaito’s—that I should remain stubborn, fight back, be obstinate. I don’t want to give in to him in any respect or take any pleasure in any part of this, but the logical part of me knows that will only help, not hurt. He’d said quite clearly that bad behavior would result in punishment, and I don’t want to find out what that punishment would be.
Angering him isn’t going to get him to let me see my brother. It isn’t going to soften him in any way. I know, deep down, that it will only make things worse.
If I’m pliable, I can see what kind of man he is. If he’s disposed to gentleness at all, and if so, how I can use that to my advantage.
I don’t linger too long in the bath, not wanting to be naked when he comes back. I towel off, wrinkling my nose at the slightly musty smell of the towel, but I wrap it around myself anyway for modesty as I go to look in the closet.
There are, in fact, clothes. They’re a bit dusty, too, and smell like mothballs, but they’re mostly clean and in good repair. I don’t find panties or bras, but there is a drawer with a few shirts and pairs of linen pants and dresses hanging up in the closet.
Have there been other women here?Something tells me if there have been, they’re not here any longer, and that makes my stomach twist with a sick anxiety.What happened to them?I can’t pretend the clothes were bought because he knew I was coming here; it’s clear they’ve been here for some time.
I hear footsteps in the hall and grab the closest dress, a blue linen wrap dress that’s a little big on me, but not uncomfortably so. I manage to get it belted just in time for the door to open and Alexandre to step in with a plate of food, still wearing the dressing gown.
“Thank you,” I manage, realizing with a start how hungry I am. I see bread and some cheese peeking out on the side of the plate, and my stomach rumbles instantly as I reach for it, only for him to shake his head and pull it back.
I stare at him, confused, as Alexandre sets the plate on the dusty hardwood floor between us.
“Come,” he says simply. “Eat.”
It takes a moment for what he’s saying to register. My instinct is to grab the plate and retreat to the bed, but I know that will piss him off.Bad pets are punished.This is my first test. He wants me to kneel on the floor and eat off of that plate like a dog, and god help me, I know I’m going to do it.