Page 14 of Sacrifice

Taking in the paintings that line the walls, it hits me that I’m homeless. Do I have anyone to go to? Maybe my friend Janice will help me. That’s doubtful, considering how far Vincent’s reach is.

The women have been with me for hours and I’m exhausted now. They’ve cut my hair to my shoulders and lowlights are everywhere. I liked my hair the way it was.

Johanna, the manicurist, said everything will grow on me. My nails have French tips and my toenails match. I don’t mind; it looks pretty. But the makeup is another story. I look like a hooker trying to be a lady.

I can’t stand red lipstick and of course that’s what the woman used. There’s no reason for all of this. Unless Vincent is going to make me a lady of the night.

Looking into the mirror, I can’t find myself at all. All I can find is what Vincent wants. Taking a deep breath, I count to thirty before I feel my blood pressure calming down. The anxiety, however, is trying to overtake me.

“You need to try on the dresses,” the stylist calls to me without looking up from her phone.

Huffing, I move over to the rollaway closet and when I see the dresses; I know this has to be a mistake. This cannot be happening right now. Most women would feel fortunate and grateful to be pampered, but not like this. Yes, the dresses are fancy, but most are too revealing and very short.

The woman has coordinated panties and bras for each dress. Well, I’ve never worn a thong and by the looks of it, that’s what these scraps of fabric are. Moving around the closet to look at my stylist, I gulp.

“Where are the pants and blouses?” I ask quietly, trying to keep the disdain from leaking through my tone.

“Mr. Domingo told me to bring dresses only.” The woman is snooty.

“I understand,” I say. “But I can’t wear any of this casually.”

She finally looks up from her cell phone and laughs at me. My anger gets the better of me. “Well, I’m your client, right?”

Her perfectly arched eyebrow rises, and she looks at me sternly. “You are, but Mr. Domingo is the one paying the bill. You’ll get what he wants you to have.”

She looks at me with an evil grin before she speaks again. “Besides, a low-life peasant like yourself should count herself lucky that you get to be one of his whores.”

“Alright.” Tears threaten to overflow, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction. I knew she thought I was a woman of the night. Biting my lip, I nod. What good would it do to tell her I’m not a whore? None. She’s already made up her mind about me.

Going back around to the dresses, I pick a blue one, the most conservative of the bunch, and move behind the partition. The dress fits perfectly and I’ll admit, it’s beautiful. The only problem is, it isn’t me.

“Where is she?” I hear Vincent bark, and I sink into myself.

“She’s behind the partition, and I must say, she’s wretched and ungrateful for everything you’ve done.”

Looks like I’m going to be in trouble. What a horrible woman!

“Aribella, come out here.” The frustration in his voice makes me hesitate. I just had a punishment. Could I survive another one?

“It’s not like I don’t like the dress. But—” my words falter as I look at Vincent and see the lust burning in his eyes.

He snarls at me as he comes closer. I thought I had seen him when he was mad. But that was dim compared to everything I see across his face now. Shoot, he’s livid.

“This is not what was discussed.” He walks all the way around me and faces the woman. “Get the fuck out.” He points to thedoor and I watch her mouth open in shock before she flees the room.

“They’ve done more than Ms.Terrington asked.” He touches my cheek. “I asked for you to be pampered. Not to be changed. Fuck.” Vincent bends down and kisses my lips.

“You look beautiful, but this is not what I wanted for you.” His words make me feel better and for the first time, I’m relaxed around him. Maybe... Maybe he doesn’t want to change me.

Chapter Seven

For fuck’s sake!I should have stayed here and made sure they did what I wanted. The way Arabella won’t meet my eyes gives me all the answers I need. This aversion to eye contacts has to do with more than the damn dress.

“Mi reina, look at me,” my voice comes out in a harsh whisper, and I take her beautiful face in my hands. Her lower lip trembles as she finally complies.

“You… You’re going to make me a whore, aren’t you?”

“What!?” I control my features quickly, but my mouth opens anyway.

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