Page 30 of Bottoms
“Right,” I breathed. Grabbing the outfit bag, I slid it across the table to look at what was inside. Fynn wouldn’t provide me with options to choose from. He would have one vision inside his mind for how I would look tonight.
The dress was black, and it honestly surprised me that it hadn’t been blue. It was made of a silky material that looked like it would mold to my new curves. There was more in the bag after I set the dress to the side. My hands reached in to pull out a cape. It was black and felt thick despite the silky-smooth fabric it was made from. The inside panel shone out in a bright blue.
There it was.
I set the cape down on the table as my attention caught on one more item inside the bag. Nestled on the bottom was a black mask; made from thin, intricate metal. It looked like a butterfly.
“Not very discrete,” I said, pointing.
“Does that mean you decided to watch them rather than showcase your transformation?” Fynn laughed like he knew I wouldn’t wear it, but he had wanted to try, regardless. Pulling the bag with the mask, his hands delicately removed the intricate piece. He placed it on the table, winking at me as he came prepared, before reaching around into his back pocket. He tossed a thick strip of black fabric into view.
I picked it up from the table, inspecting the lace patterns weaved tightly together without any specific openings for my eyes. Holding the material up, I found my vision slightly darkened, but otherwise, I could see fine. Getting up from the table with the mask in my hand, I headed for the bathroom to see what it looked like to others.
Tying the mask, my hands trembled as I watched the girl in the mirror. The bright red of the wig I had chosen to wear today shone out like a beacon, but the black strip of fabric hid so many of my features it was hard to tell what I looked like. My body was different, too. Muscles were starting to become visible in my arms. Ones that weren’t earned for their aesthetic qualities. All my curves were born from training and regular use.
I felt confident none of them would recognize me. The vision in the mirror was as much a stranger to me as it would be to them. The only thing that could give me away would be my voice, but I smirked at my reflection, knowing that wasn’t an issue. I learned long ago that when you want to be invisible, all you have to do is be quiet and listen.
Fynn was awaiting my verdict as I walked into the dining room, still wearing the mask.
“I’ll go as long as you promise me no one shoots me, attempts to rape me, or lights me on fire tonight,” I announced with my hands on my hips.
“It wasn’t my fault some of the fire got on you,” Fynn said pointedly. “You would have cleared the alley had you not gotten shot.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing that he couldn’t tell under the mask from that distance. A smile broke out across my lips, and I started looking forward to attending the party with Fynn. He hadn’t promised my safety, yet I knew he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt me.
Safer than the guys managed.
Like a thousand butterflies in my stomach, a fluttering sensation crept in as I carried my dress up the steps to my bedroom. My mind attempted to settle on something to worry about first. There were a million ways I could react when I saw them again, and there were consequences attached to each scenario.
Fynn was my owner, and there wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do to keep me in his clutches.
I spent the day thinking about the most likely scenarios. Running through general dialogue prompts and ways to respond or deflect. My mind didn’t want to answer any hypothetical questions the imaginary guys asked in the versions where I approached them.
“Are you okay? Where have you been? Why won’t you leave with me? Did you fuck him?”
I imagined Colten’s voice for the last question. The word fuck came out as sharp as any blade Fynn owned. The only answer I could give him would be the truth.
No. But I will.
The other questions left me too confused to answer, so I decided that avoiding a reunion was how I wanted the night to play out. I slipped the weightless black dress over my head, watching as it floated to my bare feet. A slit in the side of the dress would show the scarring on my legs unless I wore tall boots. At least my throwing knives remained secured to my thigh without being visible. They had become a security object since Fynn taught me how to throw them. From a short distance, my groupings were better with a knife than they were from afar with a gun.
I didn’t have a holster for my gun, and I gave it a sad look as I passed by where it sat on my dresser. Fynn hadn’t included any undergarments in the bag, and I took that as his suggestion not to wear any. My eyes scanned the myriad of colored wigs inside my drawer, trying to decide which one to go with. Settling on the long, straight, black wig, I pulled the red one free before replacing it with the ultra-dark look.
I went over to the small white table beside the bed, one I had when I was a child. The contents were different now, but traces of my early attempts at art still clung to the sides. I opened the drawer, knowing that was where Fynn had put the clutch I had dropped in the parking lot. My nipple shade lipstick was in there, and tonight felt like that kind of night.
I applied the lipstick and a little eyeliner to help define my eyes beneath the mask in the mirror in the bathroom. Tying the mask overtop, I took a moment to appreciate the version of me that was about to wreak havoc tonight. The dark, mysterious goddess smirking back at me would be a contender against Hannah.
Fynn still hadn’t emerged from his office as I sat at the dining room table and poured myself a shot of bourbon before reaching for the pack of cigarettes. I didn’t have one very often, and the whole-body buzzing sensation no longer happened when I lit the end and took a drag. It was still calming in its own way, something my mind could focus on while I anxiously waited to see what Fynn would look like cleaned up for once.
I heard the door to his office open, and I turned to look at him. Nothing could have prepared me for the stranger standing across the room. Fynn had shaved most of his beard off, leaving only short stubble. He had cut the hair on top of his head, too. It was styled back, like Colten’s, but shaved to the skin on the sides.
Fynn wore a black suit that was tailored perfectly for his body. Every one of his hard-earned muscles was highlighted as he stood just beyond the doorway, fastening cufflinks. He wasn’t wearing a mask, but the trimmers had made him look like an entirely different person. Someone a little less unhinged.
“I will say, you clean up nice.”
I watched him flash a quick smile with the compliment. The butterflies started in my stomach again, and I realized I was much more nervous talking to Fynn when he looked like this. I could see the part of him that was raised amongst the rich and powerful elite of New York City.
He could have owned the whole city if he had wanted to. Instead, he chose to own me.
