Page 7 of Red

Other than some shards of glass littering the grass, there was nothing below the window.

“Melinda. Come out. Now.” He firmed up his voice. He wouldn’t be running all over the room searching for her. She was either hiding in the closet or the bathroom, but she would come out to him.

The bathroom door opened, and she stepped out with a towel wrapped around her hand.

“What are you doing in here?” Melinda asked, as though he was the one out of place.

“You could have broken your neck.” He pointed a finger at the glass covering the floor beneath his feet.

She tilted her head with a furrowed brow. “By slamming a window shut? Doubtful, but I’ll be more careful.”

“You slammed it shut?” Erik glanced back at the window. “Why was it open to begin with?”

“I wanted some fresh air.” She kept her head down as she uttered her lie. “Did you really think I’d try to climb out that window?” she asked. After she’d peeked her head out, she would have noticed how high up she actually was. With nothing but the flat surface from the window to the ground, she didn’t have a chance at climbing down.

He grasped her hand and unwound the towel to find a small wound across her palm. Her slender hand was soft against his rough fingers. His thumb caressed along the edge of the wound. Blood trickled from the gash.

“How’d you cut yourself?”

“When I went to pick up the glass, there was a piece sticking up from the carpet I didn’t see, so when I reached down, it cut me.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp and snatched the towel. “I’ll live. Don’t worry.” She wound the cloth around the wound again. Her snark did very little to appease his growing agitation.

“Why did you slam the window?” he demanded. She would have to admit to her childish behavior.

“Are you serious?” she deadpanned. “I was angry. But I didn’t mean to break the window.”

“Do you always act so childish when you’re angry?” He moved the large shards into a pile with his foot.

“Do you always abduct innocent women from their homes?” She held her hand to her chest.

“It wasn’t your home,” he said. “You have an apartment in the city, near campus.”

Her emerald eyes widened. “You really do your homework, I suppose.” She unwound the towel and flexed her hand, wincing at the pain.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Nico, who was no doubt working his way through more of his whiskey.

“Ask Marianne bring up the vacuum. And we need the glass replaced in the window.” He kept her in his sights as she returned to the bathroom.

“She tried to jump out of that room?” Nico asked.

“No.” Erik followed her to the bathroom and took another peek at her palm. “And call Dr. Abbante. She might need stitches.”

Erik hung up before Nico’s next question came through.

“I don’t need stitches. I just need to clean it again.” She yanked free from his grip.

He leaned a hip against the bathroom counter and folded his arms over his chest. For a woman who should be cowering in fear at her bleak future, she had an overabundance of fortitude.

“The doctor will be here soon. You will let him examine your palm. You won’t fight him, or question him, or ask him to help you in any other way than checking your wound.”

She turned off the water and peered at his reflection in the mirror. “What exactly are your plans for me?”

A typical question, though the other girls had asked with more quiver in their voice. But not Melinda. She shot straight for the truth. He could give her that.

“I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?” she repeated. “Then why take me if you have no plan? Am I to be your—” She blushed, a dark red flame bursting across her cheeks. “Your whore?”

He grinned. “Do you have any experience in that area?”

---