Page 35 of The Favorite Girl

“Just clean and keep your mouth shut, Demi,” I told myself as I looked at the wrapped plate sitting on my small vanity. Peeling the wrapping back, I couldn’t help but smile. Grilled chicken, roasted asparagus, a sweet potato with a dollop of butter, and on the side, a bottle of water and piece of dark chocolate.

If I left this place, I’d die anyway—likely starving to death. Grabbing my plate, I sat on the edge of my bed and began to eat. When you’ve been on the verge of starving to death, you know that you can never let food sit. You eat it because you simply cannot believe you actually have it. Or before someone takes it from you.

After inhaling my dinner, I took a hot shower, brushed my teeth, used fancy creams and lotions all over my body, and slid the small white gown on. Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn’t have that glaze of dirtiness anymore, and I didn’t reek. I didn’t have this strange taste in my mouth that made me nauseated.

Yes, I was terrified… but in some sick way, I was also thankful. The Ivory family wanted me here; they needed me. Dr. Ivory clearly had some kind of OCD with cleanliness. Now that their last housekeeper had either left or died, that meant they wouldn’t hurt me. They needed me. I just had to trust Bradley had some kind of plan brewing because tomorrow, I had to wake up and see things I knew would change everything.

Tomorrow I had to be a happy little housekeeper and pretend to be completely content being trapped in a dangerous house with dangerous people.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

I tossed and turned all night, contemplating all the ways I’d escape. I could sneak out of my room, unlock the front door, or climb out of a window. I could pretend to meet Raina and leave. But Bradley’s words coursed through my mind, and I wasn’t too sure I was willing to risk my life.

I got dressed in my uniform, slid on the ridiculously padded shoes, tied my hair up, and left my room. I started to walk toward the end of the hall until I recalled the turn and luckily, Bradley appeared pushing an all-white cart.

“Good morning, Demi.” Bradley paused and waved at the cart.

“Morning.” I grabbed the cart handle from him and began to push it behind him.

“Today you’ll be cleaning the Ossis floor rooms. There are very strict rules, Demi. You must not speak or make any noise, and you must not make eye contact with anyone you may encounter. Before we go in, you’ll need to stop in the dressing room.”

“The dressing room? And eye contact with who?”

“Lower your voice, now!” Bradley shushed me with his finger, and I noticed he wore long sleeves and white gloves.

Walking quickly, we eventually ended back up on the Ossis wing, and Bradley swiped his gold card in front of the door.

“Are you helping me clean?”

“No. I have to make sure you don’t screw up.” He gave me a pointed look. “Now go into the dressing room; Becca’s in there with your breakfast. She’ll help you, and then come right out so we can get started.”

“Hi Demi.” Becca bowed slightly, then pointed to the salon style chair. Sinking into it, I looked at my reflection and Becca quickly draped a cloak over me.

My eyes widened as she reached for the scissors, and I jerked back and quickly put my hands on my hair. “Oh, no, I don’t need a haircut.” I laughed awkwardly.

“Demi, you must. Your hair is too thick and there is no way it’ll fit in the wig.”

“Wig?” I turned and looked at Becca.

“Oh honey, you can’t go to the Ossis floor with all this unruly, black hair.” She clicked her tongue and immediately grabbed a handful of my hair.

“I said no.” I slapped her hand off me.

“Don’t be difficult, Demi,” she said with a chill in her voice that had my heart racing. “You either put this on or you let me cut and dye it. But there is no way they’ll let you in there with black hair.” She lifted a short blonde wig, and I couldn’t help but break into laughter.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Disbelief was clear in my tone.

“No,” Becca replied dryly.

“Well, I’m going to wear the stupid wig, because there is no way I’m going to go blonde. It wouldn’t work for me.” I rolled my lips together tightly.

“Fine. I’ll try to fit it in there, but if it falls or moves at all and the caged girls see you, then that’s between you and Dr. Ivory.” She tugged at my hair, balling it up and brushing it aggressively.

“This is going to take ten pounds of gel,” she muttered as she began plastering the goop in my scalp and didn’t even try to brush it lightly. Once in a tight bun, she paused. “Well, I’m a magician.” Fastening the blonde wig on top of my head, she tilted her head and studied me carefully. “You kind of look alright as a blonde.”

Running my fingers through the soft hair, I didn’t disagree. Surprisingly, it didn’t clash completely with my olive skin. “Yea, I guess.”

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