Page 31 of Sinful
“Don’t touch anything. Don’t make a mess,” he instructs like he’s talking to a petulant child. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do. It’s almost laughable how precious he is with his parent’s stuff, but uses women he hardly knows to advance his career as though they are worth less than the crap he surrounds himself with. Expensive crap though it may be.
I try to calm my panic by listening to the sounds outside and trying to follow the route we are taking. It doesn’t really matter. There’s no way I’m going to try to walk back to the apartment. If I do manage to escape, I’ll run in the opposite direction from him, from Mercier, from Josh, but it’s ingrained in me. I can’t see where I am or where I’m going, so I feel it. A left turn, a right, another left. We are zigzagging across town, and when we finally come to a stop, I feel confident I know where I am in relation to the apartment. I might never want to go back there and it’s inconceivable that I’ll ever talk to the police because they’ll invariably give me back to my father, but just in case, I store the information in my mind, taking up space next to all the other nuggets of information I’m keeping safe about my three kidnappers.
Dacre opens the door for me and takes my hand in his. I grip it as I step out. The cars whizz by so quickly, each one sending my heart pounding. I adjust the glasses and, keeping a grip on his hand, let him lead me. Beneath my feet, the floor is soft like carpet. It doesn’t make sense, as I know we are still outside. I stomp my foot in the shoes Dacre gave me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dacre hisses in my ear while squeezing my arm.
“We are on carpet. Are we inside?”
His voice is low when he answers. “It’s a red carpet event. Stop stomping. Everyone is looking at us. Look up and smile, for fuck’s sake.”
I hate that I need him to make sense of it for me. I should know. I should understand, but I don’t. I feel hopelessly out of my depth and any thoughts I had of escaping are laughable. People are watching us, though I don’t know why. I do as he says and give them my widest smile.
“Better,” he snaps. His fingers thread through mine and he rests his other hand on my arm as if to guide me. I’ve never felt so exposed in my life before now. The sounds of the traffic mesh into sounds of people speaking and other sounds I can’t place. The air is thick with cologne and perfume and a hundred other smells that swirl into one, making me feel nauseous. He pulls me close and hurries me along. “There are steps.”
I lift my foot and step up, gauging the height and breadth of them before stepping onto the next. All the while, I keep my head high and my smile wide. Then we are inside. The blare of traffic falls away, and the cold is left behind. In the distance, I can hear the sound of an orchestra or a string quartet.
“Mr. Dacre. So glad you could make it with such short notice.” A man, an older man by the sound of his voice, speaks up. He’s shorter than I am judging by the direction his voice is coming from.
Dacre moves his hand to the curve of my back and swings me round toward the voice. “Mr. Letterman. Thank you for inviting me, sir. I didn’t expect to get an invitation, being only an intern, and one that hasn’t even started yet.”
The older man laughs. “You aren’t only an intern. You hold a prestigious family name. Your father was one of my colleagues at Harvard. Besides, we had a last minute cancellation, and I thought you might like to see how things work.”
Dacre stiffens beside me and the hand around my back squeezes me tightly. “Well, that’s lucky for me. May I introduce you to my cousin, Kiranna.”
Kiranna?
“Wonderful to meet you Kiranna. Reginald Letterman at your service.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir. Alexander has told me so much about you.” I think I’ve pulled off the lie quite well, but then there’s a pregnant pause. I wonder if I’ve said something wrong.
“She’s blind,” Dacre says, taking my hand in his and guiding it forward. “Mr. Letterman wants to shake your hand, Kiranna.”
A huge meaty hand takes mine. Instead of shaking it, he pulls it up and kisses the back of it. I have to hold myself straight to not squirm as he slobbers over the back of my hand. Plastering a fake smile on my lips, I hold my breath until he finally lets go. Dacre’s mom’s shawl comes in handy as I surreptitiously wipe Letterman’s spit onto it.
“I was hoping to talk to you about some ideas I have, sir.”
Letterman laughs again, showering me with even more spittle. “Monday is for work. I invited you here to have fun, but I do admire your spirit. Come find me later after the canapés and we can talk shop.”
“Thank you sir.” Dacre’s hand gently guides me away from Letterman and toward the music. I latch onto the melody and let it fill my mind as I struggle to keep up with Dacre’s pace. The noise is confusing. Dacre hurries me past so many people having discussions about business, but the music is something I understand. I don’t care about Dacre’s friends and I don’t care about Dacre, but if I have to be here and play a part, I’m going to do what I can to enjoy it.
“Sit here,” Dacre grunts, almost forcing me into a chair. “I’m going to network. Don’t even think about moving. I expect to see you here when I get back.”
I grip the chair to control my fear of being left alone. I can’t expect Dacre to understand how terrifying this is. I don’t know where I am and I’ve not been given a chance to scope the venue out. Thoughts of fires or other emergencies fill me with panic, so I breathe in and out slowly to calm my nerves. Once again, I fixate on the music, holding the tune in my head like a life raft in a sea of business talk.
Next to me is a table, but there are no plates, nor anything else on it, at least not within reach.
“Can I help you with something, my dear?” A friendly older woman’s voice sounds out, but I don’t know if she’s talking to me. It’s hard to hear anything with all the inane chatter.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, because what can I tell her? That I’m here against my will? That I’m terrified out of my wits and that the person that’s supposed to be looking after me dropped me at the first convenience?
“It’s all rather dull, isn’t it?” she continues. She’s closer now, in the seat next to me?
“I don’t have the first clue what’s going on,” I admit, feeling a little easier.
“Don’t worry,” she replies. I like her voice. No nonsense, but with a sweet edge. “I’ve been coming to these things for years and I still don’t care one jot about what they all talk about. You don’t work for my husband, do you?”
I shake my head slightly. “I don’t work for anyone. I’m here with Alexander Dacre. He’s my cousin.” I let the lie slip out easily.
