We negotiated the washed-out rocky part of the road and stood before the help as the doctor shook their hands and greeted them, then introduced us. In my flustered state, I barely heard his words.
There were two men and one woman. The woman was the chef for the doctor’s house. It seemed very patriarchal until the doctor went on: “They are all qualified bodyguards and Margaux is ex-intelligence agency. Roland doubles up as the librarian. Treat them well, and they won’t throw you over their shoulder and karate chop you. That includes you, Cassius.”
Cassius remained silent. Did he feel insulted? Probably not. The man seemed a professional at keeping his cool.
The two cars waiting for us were open-sided and a better class of golf cart. Their headlights illuminated a rough but sealed road that weaved along the coast of the island, until a squat, square tower revealed itself above the pines, dominant and ominous, and perfect for the next chapter in my horror story. All I needed was an Igor, and a guy with a hockey mask and an ice pick.
The house we arrived at was large, and the two doors were propped open. Eroded and barely readable letters curved above the arched sandstone lintel. The floors were irregular stone or new terracotta-hued tiles. The doctor and Cassius vanished elsewhere.
In a whirl of ancient stairs, muted lighting, and my groaning and panting due to the exercise, I was led to a bedroom on the third floor by one of the casually dressed male helpers. This one was not the librarian or the cook, but a cross between a guard and a man who did whatever needed doing. His name was Inigo and he seemed of Spanish heritage—from his name, accent, and his thick, black hair.
I decided a sword at his belt would have satisfied my inner Princess Bride. Humor is the first resort of the what…an intrepid girl? Yes. That sounded good. Intrepid was better than foolhardy.
On the trek up the stairs, I had learned the five staff currently here rotated, once a week, to the mainland. At which time they swapped with another five people, by boat. The boat part piqued my interest. So did the limited staff.
This island looked huge. Escape must surely be possible with some planning?
Hand on the outside door handle of the bedroom, and ready to close it, Inigo smoothly rattled off more facts.
“We use a mix of solar and fuel-generated electricity, miss. Please be sparing of the power using. You are to shower, dress, and then knock on the door when ready for the meal.”
He eyed me, uncertain if I’d comprehended, I guess.
“Sure. What was your name again? Igor?”
He rolled his eyes and shut the door.
Mission accomplished, annoy the help.
I showered and dressed.
On the bed, above where the gown was laid out, was a perfect circlet in silver links. I knew what that was and ignored it.
The white gown was light, gorgeously fluted, and figure-worshipping. The back was cut-away down to my waist. The hem reached to the floor where my toes dabbled on the cool timber. The lacy bra beneath was transparent enough to show my nipples through the lace and probably through the fitted bodice. The strap was pretty enough to look a part of the dress, where it ran across my bare back. I had tiny bows on the bodice. I frowned at my toes. I had no shoes except my sneakers. How did the doctor know my dress size?
His research, no doubt.
“To hell with shoes. They can suck my toes or find me some diamond-encrusted high heels.”
Not that I’d want to walk those stairs in heels. Making jokes was my only way to lower my fidgeting ways. I put a finger in my mouth and chewed the nail. They were expecting me downstairs, dressed in this seductive thing, and nothing seemed safe anymore.
A glass of wine waited for me on a small table, in a huge fat goblet. Should I? I lifted it and sniffed the contents. A white wine? No, it was sweeter, more of a golden color, and thicker. Why not? I had need of this.
“Down the hatch.” I upended it and skolled the lot, then waited for a few minutes, breathing in fumes thick enough to sear my lungs. Not wine. It was a potent liqueur. The rapid buzz that funneled into my veins and swamped my brain, agreed with my verdict.
The chain circlet taunted me.To abandon it or to wrap it around my neck, that is the question.
I dangled it off my fingers.
The silver links were heavy, but the catch was a simple one I could undo with a press of my fingers. This was a slave collar, or a submissive collar, and if I left it here, I had zero doubt that it would be retrieved, brought to me, and placed on me anyway.
I picked it up and fastened it around my neck.
Better it be of my own volition than his.
I knocked on the inside of the door, and Inigo arrived. We descended and found the dining room. Luckily, the floor in here was warm.
“Good evening, Charity. Please, take a seat beside me.” The doctor stood, his tall-backed chair scraping the floor. He indicated a seat to his right. His spot would be the head of the table. The table was a long, skinny rectangle, a ten-seater at least. Brass-like metal ran along the sides, just beneath the top. At the opposite end, Cassius sat, stoically frowning at me then at my bodice, as if he were a banished toad. The cool, suave security man looked rather uncool. For some ungodly reason that pleased me.