Page 5 of Skin
Make hermine.
It would be a beautiful sight to behold.
“How much to buy her out?” I ask.
Her eyes widen and her mouth pops open slightly. I’m already thinking about what I could do to her mouth, what I would tell her to do with her lips.
“What?” she asks quietly.
“She’s worth more than her contract,” the man says, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t think I want to sell. She’s more valuable to me here than the money in my pocket would be.”
“I’m not for sale,” Avery protests, shocked, her mouth agape.
“Excuse me,” I say, stepping toward her. “I’m not trying to buyyou. I’m trying to buy your freedom. Now if you don’t want that, I’ll leave. But I won’t leave unless you tell me to, in no uncertain terms. You just say the word, and I’ll go. You can stay here without me, and you can work off the debt you’ll owe in accordance with your contract. Or you cancome with me.”
Her jaw tightens slightly and her fingers come up to her lips, tracing the edge like a goddess dragging a lazy finger along the edge of the ocean’s shore.
Avery
My head is spinning.
I noticed him when he came in from the cold. God, I noticed himrightaway. How could I not have? He brought the cold with him, but he also brought something else, too. I don’t think anyone else noticed him, or if they did, they pretended not to. But I heard the pounding of the ice pellets on the asphalt outside when the door opened. I heard the chime of the bells over the door, heralding his arrival.
Dark leather, deep whiskey. Tobacco leaves and spearmint. His scent was more intoxicating and intense than his appearance.
His energy is as intense now, standing before me, as it was when I first saw him. Not quite menacing, but it could be. Not quite frightening, but almost.
But I’m not scared.
I don’tthinkI’m scared.
Not of him, at least.
“I’m not a slave,” I say, “so while I understand your position - that you are looking to purchase my freedom, not purchase meper se- my freedom isn’t for sale. It’s mine. I possess it. I’m already free.”
“You might think so,” the man towering over me says, “but the way I see it, if you leave this room without me, the man who owns this place will have recourse to force you to repay what you owe. And how are you going to do that, sweetheart?”
His voice now darkens, tempting me toward it. Toward the edge, where darkness and light collide. That line of difference where light bleeds into the darkness and darkness infiltrates the light.
“Are youthreateningme?” I toe the line. I allow myself to go right up to the edge.
I don’t know if this man wants to rescue me or ruin me.
Either way, he happens to be correct about the money. HowwouldI repay my advance? It is alotof money.
If you complete your contract, it is retroactively a gift, and you are free to leave without repaying it. Of course, I know that many of the girls working here have been here for quite a few years, much longer than the one year that’s required. Other girls, though, leave abruptly, suddenly. I’ve only been here a few months and I’ve already seen a score of us leave.
If you do not complete your contract, the advance is retroactively a loan.
The contract is not vague. It is crystal-clear, and iron-clad, and contained within it is an NDA that we are required to sign upon our hiring.
What the contractdoesn’tmention is the exact requirements of the job. It doesn’t go into any level of detail about the expectations. What the clients want. What we are assumed to provide.
“I am not threatening you,” he says. “I’m asking you a serious question. How do you think you’re going to repay what you owe if you don’t allow me to buy you out?”
Heat rises through my body, through my core, flipping over inside my stomach. Deep inside...lower. Heat swims through me. Somewhere I can’t name.
Do I have any other choice than to go with him?
