Page 23 of Tarnished Reign

“To my place on the mainland to collect my car and then for a drive.”

“ So just a trip out? Are we going to stay on the mainland?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m thinking about what we will do next. We need to talk. I want to ask you some questions, and a drive and a change of scenery will do you good.”

“Is it safe?” I ask.

“We’ll have armed guards.” He runs his hands through his hair and glances at the men gathering their weapons.

God, is this really my life now?

“You ever been to wine country?”

I shake my head.

“Well, that’s where we’re going.”

I nod numbly. I have no money. No phone. Nothing a grown human should have for a drive into wine country. All I possess now is my physical body, the clothes on my back, and my name. And the clothes on my back are more of a hire situation.

“I’ll just nip to the cabin,” I say.

I slip inside and head to the room I’ve been given. I’m going to be in a car with Dimitri. Up close and personal with the man who makes me shiver with one look, even though I should hate him.

Betraying my inner feminist, I spritz on some perfume. There are makeup items in the bathroom. I look at the sealed products. Many of them are for skin darker than mine. The foundation is an olive shade, but there’s a blush and a bronzer, so I just apply a light dusting of the bronzer to make me look a little less exhausted. I open and swipe on some mascara and finally apply a little pale nude-pink gloss and a touch of the pink blush on the apples of my cheeks. I’m not doing this for any of those pigs out there. I’m doing this for me, so I can reclaim a tiny speck of dignity and feel like myself.

Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself. I tell myself I don’t care if Dimitri finds me attractive, and that’s a lie as well.

I look more alive. I also feel fresher with the light scent wrapped around me.

Stepping into the room, I automatically reach for my bag. A bag that isn’t there. A bag which would contain my phone, keys, and cards.

I have nothing.

It’s such a strange feeling. The things that give me personhood are gone.

Father must know by now that something awful has happened, surely. Is he frantic? Or is he knee-deep in his whiskey, staring morosely at the fireplace as he drowns his sorrows?

I examine myself in the full-length mirror. This dress is not flattering. I chose it on purpose because I feared being amongst all those men looking as if I was vying for their attention.

Somehow, I still managed to garner it.

Sticky gazes watched me. They undressed me and ate me up. God, I wish sometimes that I found women sexually attractive because men really are pigs. Even Dimitri looks at me with that hunger, but in him it’s different somehow.

Perhaps it’s purely because I find him attractive too, so the interest is returned.

My gut tells me it’s more than that. He looks at me with desire but also something else. There’s a depth to his gaze that both entices and deeply alarms me.

We’d be dangerous together even if we’d met, say, in a bar or a club.

Closing my eyes, I imagine a different life for a moment. One where my father didn’t become an alcoholic and my stepmother didn’t sell me. I’m in a bar, and I glance to my right, as I nurse my drink and see him.

Tall, dark hair, broad shoulders, impeccably fitted suit. He’s gorgeous. His gaze lifts slowly, and as our eyes lock, there it is.

That incredible, indefatigable moment when two worlds collide and life changes.

I’ve never experienced it, but I’ve seen it happen to others. I’ve read about it and watched movies about it. People wrote sonatas to romantic love and painted some of the world’s best art because of it.

It is the driving force of human life. That and the opposite side of the coin—hate.

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