Tight (12 page)

I didn’t respond, my eyes avoiding his, focusing on the pad of paper he held on his lap, his pen tapping the surface with a quick rat-a-tat-tat that was driving me crazy.

“They say that if the ethnicity of the victim and abuser are different, then the crime seems less severe. It’s a mental Band-Aid, really, to the victim. That’s why I was so pleased to get you, Kitten. To see if I felt less empathy for you. Now, I’m wondering if it works in reverse. If you feel less empathy and connection to me, as your Master.”

“You’re not my Master.” The words spilled out before I could contain them, and I watched his pen as it stopped its tap and swiveled upright.

“Well then, what would you call me? The majority of sex traffickers in the United States are prostitution rings, in which the Master is called ‘Daddy.’ Would you prefer that name, Kitten?”

I looked up from his pen, into his eyes. “No. And I’m not Kitten.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth drawing up as if pulled by a thread, his eyes tight on mine like he found me fascinating. “I use the nickname to help you forget your old life. Also, it is a form of endearment. Most slaves embrace their new names.”

“How many have you dealt with?” I asked the question quietly, unsure of his reaction, my hate of this man one-upped by my fear of him.

“Well ... just you so far. If you don’t give me what I need, then I’ll have to get another. Which takes me to the second part of today’s training.” He set his clipboard aside and my breath stalled, my chest tightening as I prepared for the unknown.

5 months, 1 week before

The man had the art of courtship down. I wondered, as I sat at my desk and opened the box, how many times he had done this. How many women he had courted from afar, how many companions he had flown to every Caribbean island. Wondered, not for the first time, if I was a mistress and playing second fiddle to a Mrs. Jacobs.

The box was chocolate brown, with a red satin ribbon, and had arrived at the bank this morning via UPS. I’d cut open the ordinary brown box and there sat this, nestled in a sea of Styrofoam peanuts, its bow perfectly in place despite the shipping. I’d shut the box before anyone saw it and carried it into my office, kicking the door shut and bumping it with my butt until it clicked into place.

Now I pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid, with no idea of what it could contain. I laughed when I parted monogrammed tissue paper, the top item being a pair of slippers, much like the ones he had first given me, but these were embroidered with my name, in delicate script along the top. I set them aside and reached deeper, pulling out a matching robe, “Riley” also present there, on the breast pocket, a pale blue card peeking out of it. I pulled out the card, Betschart Yachts embossed in gold at the top.

You seem to be fond
of robes and slippers.
Hoping to see you
naked of both soon.

I blushed and set aside the robe, my eye catching on a gold-wrapped package at the bottom of the box. A gift inside a gift. I reached in and pulled it out, the box small and rectangular. Too big for jewelry, too small for a book. I ripped open the packaging and found a phone, a brand I’d never seen. An Iridium, black and bulky, with actual buttons instead of a touch screen. A post-it was taped to the box’s front with
Call me, I’ll explain
written in what I now recognized as Brett’s handwriting.

I picked up my desk phone and dialed his cell. Swiveled in the chair so that my back was to the branch and flipped the phone box over, reading its features on the back.

“Hey beautiful.” His voice was warm, the background quiet. I smiled.

“Hey. I just got a box of gifts.”

“You deserve them every day. I’ve been slacking off. Didn’t want to scare you off.” There was a smile in his words, and I laughed.

“You do know that I have a phone already.”

“And you should keep it. That one is for when you travel. It’s built for international use; it’s a satellite phone.”

“Meaning…?” Two weeks earlier, I’d have hidden my ignorance. Now, I felt at ease.

“Meaning that it’ll pick up a signal anywhere. I don’t want you to be out of touch with your friends and family.”

I blinked. It was, for a guy, surprisingly … thoughtful. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.” I had actually planned to refuse the gift. I did, after all, have my own phone. A perfectly nice iPhone, which – twenty minutes earlier – had seemed overly adequate for my limited needs.

“You’re welcome. Don’t give me too much credit. I do have ulterior motives.”

“Don’t all men?” I teased.

He laughed. “The second weekend of July, there’s a fishing event I’m attending. I’d love to take you there by boat. It’ll be in the middle of nowhere; you’ll need that phone.”

The middle of nowhere … it sounded so ominous. I’d never fully gotten over a stranded-at-sea movie I’d watched in fifth grade. “We’d boat from Fort Lauderdale?”

Another chuckle. “No, you probably don’t have enough time for that. We'd fly into Puerto Rico. Take the boat from there.”

I spun to my computer. Pulled up Google Maps. Quickly realized why boating from Fort Lauderdale would be impossible. Then I moved to my desk calendar and looked with despair at my schedule. Even nine weeks out, it was full.

“I’d have to work a full day on Friday.
And
be back at work on Monday,” I said glumly.

“I’ll make it work. The plane can pick you up Friday night and have you back late Sunday.”

“You sure?” I leaned back, closing the browser window. Picking up the robe, I ran my hand over the soft fleece. It would easily be the nicest thing I’d ever worn.

“Absolutely. Is it a date?”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the chair. “It’s a date.”

“Talk to you tonight?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

I didn’t realize until after I hung up the phone, a ridiculous smile still on my face, that I hadn’t thanked him for the slippers and robe. I repacked the box, tying the ribbon back into place, my bow not looking nearly as nice as the original one, and made a mental note to thank him during our phone call that night.

“Ooooh…” Tammy’s squeal could put a pig in heat. I widened my eyes at her, and she went silent, instead waving her hands in excitement. “That is so romantic!” she whispered loudly, leaning forward across the table at me.

“Good Lord, Tammy, he
bought
something, he didn’t slay a dragon and rescue her from a castle,” Jena grumbled, swatting my hands away from the onion ring appetizer she was refusing to share.

“Shut it, Jena. It’s romantic. When’s the last time Matt got you anything?”

Ouch
. Low blow. My wide eyes turned to a warning glare, and I kicked at Tammy under the table. Matt worked on one of the Vance’s tobacco farms. They covered their bills, they didn’t spoil each other with gifts. But Jena only shrugged good-naturedly. “I’m just saying … it’s a phone. It’s not romantic. It’s random.”

“I think it’s thoughtful.” I didn’t bother pointing out the robe and slippers, which I thought were romantic, especially given our history with the items. If Jena wanted to think it was a dumb gift … whatever. She was a big girl with her own opinions, just like me.

“It’s weird. He probably just wants to control you. Be able to see who you call since his name’s on the bill. In fact … wait a minute.” She put down a half-eaten ring, and I swiped it. “Lemme see the phone?”

I raised an eyebrow at her, reaching into my bag and digging around for it. “I haven’t charged it yet. And it doesn’t have Bejeweled. I already checked.” Jena is, and she’ll let you know it early on, the county’s reigning champion at Bejeweled. We all play it; she dominates it. Her high score’s up in the twenty-million-point range.

She looked at the box, pulling out her own phone and searching for something on the Internet. “Ha!” she spat out the word like she’d found the cure for cancer.

“What?” Tammy took the bait, reaching for the box, which Jena held out of reach.

“The Iridium 9555
can be easily tracked
, making it a favorite among survivalists and emergency personnel,” Jena read from her phone with loud authority, the entire right side of Ruby Tuesday hearing every syllable.

“Would you
be quieter
,” I hissed. “Between the two of you, Roy will kick us out.”

“Shut up, he will
not
.” Jena waved her hand in the general direction of the manager, her voice managing to drop to a more reasonable level as she set down her cell. “Did you hear me, Riley? His romantic gift is allowing him to track you.”

“I think half the restaurant heard you,” Tammy supplied the words before I could.

“Did
you
even listen to yourself?” I cut in. “The tracking isn’t for crazy boyfriends. It’s for
emergency
situations. Which is probably why most people have a satellite phone in the first place. I’m not using the thing walking around Quincy. I’m using it when I’m out of town. With him. To talk to you guys.”

“She’s right,” Tammy chimed in. “You’re being crazy, Jena.”

“I’m being cautious,” Jena growled. “Forgive me if I’m not jumping on the I-Love-Brett bandwagon that you all are intent on decorating.”

“Hey, you’re the one who told me to go to Aruba, remember?” I reached out, taking the last onion ring out of pure spite. “You stood in my living room and all but pushed me out the door.”

“For
one
trip! I didn’t think it would
lead
anywhere!” Jena glared at me, and I tried to figure out what she was really saying. Why she was against this … relationship, or whatever you wanted to call what Brett and I were doing. I stared back at her and her eyes softened. Then she slumped back in her booth. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Ril. He
does
seem great.
Too
great. There’s got to be something wrong.”

It was sad that that was how we thought. I
knew
what she was saying. I felt the same way. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be attracted to me. Still interested in me. Setting dates six weeks out. I felt like I was in a glass house and waiting for a giant to step on it. Crush my blissful happiness in a horrific moment that would feel, in small part, like a blessing. Because it would have finally arrived, and the waiting, the horrible anticipation would be over, finally I wouldn’t have to wonder, I would
know
, unequivocally, that this fairytale had ended, and my normal life could resume its plod through normalcy.