I’d played the whole conversation out in my head, again and again, everything Georgie might say, every question he might have, every suspicion. I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if I simply was unable to go home.Thatoutcome had never crossed my mind.
Don’t panic yet.I don’t know for sure where I am or how bad the situation is. My gaze flits around the room, looking for other details. I see on the side of the room with the open doorway a silky robe hanging up, and a low table with what looks like an assortment of toiletries.
I hesitate, running my fingers through my hair. It feels oily, clinging to my scalp, and I can smell the hint of my own body odor, fear, and sweat in my pores. There’s no doubt I could use a bath, but what comes after that? I look around the room for some sign of cameras, that someone might be watching and waiting for me to bathe so I can be taken to whatever happens next.
There’s nothing to indicate that. I bite my lower lip, feeling a scab there as if it’s been bitten numerous times since the events in Harry’s back room. There seems to be no one here, no one watching, and now that the thought of a bath or a shower has entered my mind, I can’t shake it. I feel itchy and dirty, and water sounds heavenly.
I’m hungry too, and thirsty. There’s a side table next to my bed, and as I slowly pivot my legs off of the mattress, still keeping the duvet clutched to me, I see a glass pitcher of water. There’s a bowl of fruit next to it, too, melon and strawberries, and my stomach clenches so tightly with hunger at the sight that I feel faint.
With shaky hands, I pour a glass of water. The cool liquid tastes like heaven, fresh and clear, like what I imagine drinking directly from a stream would taste like. I force myself to drink slowly, in sips, and pick at the fruit the same way. It tastes equally incredible, fresh, ripe, and chilled. The last brings me up short, because it must have been brought into the room recently, while I slept. Someone had some idea of when I would wake.
I remember the needle in my arm, a cold shiver going down my spine.How many times have I been drugged between then and now?The thought brings a cold wave of anxiety. I’ve never done a recreational drug in my life, only ever had sips of wine, never even taken an offered puff off of a coworker’s cigarette. The thought of all those unknown chemicals in me now makes my skin crawl.
The bath.I look around the room for some sign of an entryway into a bathroom. Other than the door at the far end of the room that I suspect leads out into the rest of the house or hotel that I’m in, there’s only the open doorway with the blowing curtain that makes me think it leads out onto a porch or balcony of some sort.
There’s no option but to look around. I slip out of the bed, horribly aware of my nakedness, but I don’t want to put on the robe while I’m still in desperate need of a shower. I hope that I was right about there being no cameras, no way for anyone to see, as I pad across the wooden floor, heading towards the far door first.
It’s locked. I’d known it would be, if it led out like I’d thought. I turn away quickly, not bothering to yank at it or bang on the door. The chilled fruit is enough to let me know that someone knows I’m here, that they have plans for me, down to leaving food because they knew I’d wake up soon. I don’t want them to come, whoever they are, while I’m still naked.
Unless I can find some means of escape.
I walk quickly towards the open doorway—and stop short at what I see.
It does lead out to a balcony—a huge one. A portion of it is taken up by a large wooden outdoor bath fitted into one corner, filled with water, steam curling up into the air. Beyond that, as I peer over, I can see the view of a huge courtyard and gardens. Small black-suited figures are below, and I catch sight of peacocks wandering around, a sight so unexpected that I blink for a moment and wonder if the drugs haven’t completely worn off.
I’mveryhigh up.
I hover at the edge of the bath, looking frantically for some route of escape, but I know there’s none. I’m too high up to risk jumping, and the only other way out of the room is locked. I’m trapped, and I know it.
The cold bubble of fear rises up again, threatening to spread through me, and I fist my hands at my sides.Don’t panic. Wait and see if there’s a way out. There must be.
From behind me, there’s the sound of the door opening and soft footfalls, and I let out a squeak of fear as I whirl, covering my breasts and the apex of my thighs with my hands. The moment that I do, I realize something else—at some point, Harry made good on his comment about removing my pubic hair. I’m smooth as a doll now, and I flush with shame and horror at the thought of someone shaving me bare while I was unconscious.
I hope it wasn’t him.
“Miss?” A light, accented voice drifts towards me. Afemalevoice, which calms me slightly, and I step hesitantly back into the room, still doing my best to cover myself as I look to see who’s come in.
The owner of the voice is a pretty Asian woman, a bit shorter than me, dressed in a simple blue kimono, her black hair bound up behind her head. She smiles faintly at me, her eyes kept carefully on my face.
“I apologize for frightening you, miss,” she says softly. “Is everything to your liking?”
I blink at her. “I—my—who are you? Where am I? What—”
“I apologize,” she says again. “You are at the Nakamura estate. Kaito-san has been waiting to see you, once you awoke. He wishes you to be brought to him as soon as you have bathed and dressed.”
“Nakamura—” I stare at her, unable to allow myself to believe what everything is pointing to, that I’ve been taken so far away. “Whereisthe Nakamura estate, exactly?” I demand, as politely as I can manage.
The woman looks slightly confused. “We are just outside of Tokyo, of course.”
A sick, dizzying wave washes over me, and for a second, I think I’m going to pass out. “Tokyo—” I whisper the word faintly, feeling the room tilt. I’m so far away from London, from Georgie, that I might as well be an entire world away. “Why am I in Tokyo?”
“That’s not for me to say, miss,” the woman says gently, and I think I see a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “I only serve the Nakamura family. Kaito-san wished for me to express to you that he is in a hurry to meet you, so you should bathe and ready yourself soon. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
There’s a hint of warning in her voice, and I can’t help but wonder if there have been other girls like me here, if she’s had to give this same speech before.
“Please,” she says, gesturing at where the toiletries are laid out. “The onsen has been prepared for you. If there is anything you need that has not been provided, please let me know, and I will bring it to you.”
“No, I—” I swallow hard, looking back at the array of items left out for me. A disc of soap, cloths, small bottles of what must be shampoo and conditioner, and maybe even lotion, a hairbrush, and other assorted items. “I’m sure it’s all fine.”