He’d hoped she could find it in herself to trust him though he knew there was no reason for her to. How the hell was he going to get her out of here? Because he was getting her out of here, or he’d die trying. She might not be into the things he was into, but it didn’t change how he felt about her, how she hadn’t strayed far from his thoughts for one moment since the last time he’d seen her, how every woman writhing beneath him somehow had her smile. He’d wished over and over that he could rewind time and find a way to have something more with her. To make her his.
“C-can I go to the bathroom first?” she asked. Likely anything to buy herself time. Maybe it would calm her nerves and they could speak more reasonably when she returned.
Gabe gestured to the open bathroom door. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”
Julie locked the door behind her and slid to the ground, her head dropping into her hands. She couldn’t believe he was really here. Somehow in her imagination he hadn’t been the bad guy. She wasn’t sure what was worse, that Gabe Griffin—her bad boy crush to end all crushes—had seen her like this, or that he’d turned out to be as bad as he’d implied.
She wanted to believe and cling to his offer of help. She wanted to see something good in him. Maybe his brief, passing interest in her months ago would be enough to gain that help. She’d happily pay him with her body for the freedom so long as it was a one-time deal and not yet another prostitution ring. She was sure she could handle his unconventional desires if it was just once... if it meant getting out of here. Over the past several months she’d learned she could handle a lot of things she didn’t think she could.
She was sure if she got free of this place she’d have a breakdown, maybe stare at a wall for a few weeks straight without speaking as the full realities she’d shoved to the corners had nowhere else to hide and were forced into the stark light of day. But for now she was surviving, getting through each moment and each day. The other women who lived in Dmitri’s basement helped. Having them there made it that much easier to survive because at least someone cared. Someone understood. It wasn’t some distant counselor who wanted to make a difference but had never known any real trauma in his or her pampered, privileged existence.
Even if they couldn’t change their circumstances, at least they had each other. And somehow all the petty snipping back and forth made it all feel normal—or like they were a weird slightly dysfunctional family. When everything felt like that during the day when they were doing chores, or when they’d settled in at night, Julie could sometimes pretend she worked in a high-end brothel of her own free will. Despite this not matching any part of her personality, she would pretend she was a different type of person. Maybe imaginary Julie was into the risk and danger. Maybe she got off on fucking strange men. Maybe they were paying her really well and she lived in a penthouse overlooking a beautiful city skyline. Maybe she was living the dream.
She shook herself back to reality. She didn’t have time to contemplate and daydream and pretend she wasn’t dying inside. He’d miraculously brought her to a room with a bathroom that could give her the smallest window of privacy. She never thought she’d get a second chance to attempt escape... but here it was... and this time, if they caught her, she wouldn’t go quietly, no matter what that meant for her.
Gabe wasn’t here to swoop in like an avenging angel and rescue her from her plight. It didn’t matter if she’d fallen asleep fantasizing about him doing just that every night since she’d been taken. These nighttime comfort stories didn’t suddenly make a safe protective Gabe a real living breathing thing.
Dmitri had been very clear about the honored guest and his intentions. Gabe was one of them. Just as bad, and from all whispering she’d overheard for the past week leading up to this, probably a lot worse. Standard blow jobs and sex with boring mostly old rich guys was one level of ick. But whatever Gabe was into went far beyond that. She’d only gotten the smallest taste of it that night in her apartment. But he’d stopped. He’d shown restraint with her then. Maybe he would again.
No, that wasn’t real. She had to remember that fantasy Gabe and real life Gabe were two very different people. And even if he wanted to help her, what could Gabe do? She couldn’t see any realistic way he could get her out of here. Maybe he could go to the cops but it would only implicate him as well.
If it weren’t for the fact that he’d told her himself he was a bad man, she might have held onto the ludicrous hope that maybe he was part of the sting operation Carmen kept praying for.
There was a light knock on the door. “Julie, are you all right in there?”
“J-just a minute,” she said.
Except for that awful thing he’d said in the ballroom when he’d picked her, he’d been very civil. What if he really could help her and wanted to? But what if he didn’t? She couldn’t imagine being subject to pain and humiliation at Gabe’s hands, not only for him to see her like this, but… to participate in her degradation. She just… couldn’t.
Carefully and as quietly as possible, she unzipped and removed her boots and crept to the window. She ran her fingers over the sill. Her fingertips dipped into the grooves where the bars came up to lock the windows, making escape impossible when they were in the house cleaning during the day. But the bars went down when a client would be using a room—couldn’t ruin the thin veneer of respectability. Bars made it clear that this was prison and nobody wanted to be here.
With the bars down, the windows could be opened. Except for that first night, she’d never attempted it, mostly because she’d never had this much space and time to do it before. When clients were in the house, there were more armed guards. But like the first night, she had to take this opportunity.
Deep down she knew she didn’t have a chance in hell of escaping. There wasn’t a convenient guard shift change she could utilize or some area of the property that was less well-guarded that she could make a beeline for. This was a suicide mission. Not once had she even gotten this close to freedom again, but she wasn’t deluding herself. They would gun her down before she was halfway across the property. At least she’d be outside in the open air when she died and not like some rat in a cage. Not like those blood stains in the basement. She couldn’t take another night of this. Not another minute.
She couldn’t go back out there, not to Gabe. Anyone but him. She was sure that whatever noble intentions had held him back on their date—caused him to spare her—were absent now that she was just some used-up whore.
The window was large enough that it was easy to climb out; the tricky part was the descent. At least it was the second floor and not the third. There was a balcony one door over, if she could manage to cling to the side of the building and edge her way along the thin ledge to that...
She held her breath and moved very slowly along the ledge, every second fearing Gabe would knock down the bathroom door and catch her. What would happen if he caught her? She’d probably startle and fall off the ledge. That might actually be the best way things could end.
After an endless space of time, she finally breathed as she gripped the railing of the balcony as if it were a life raft in a storm-tossed sea. She climbed over it and hid behind a large potted plant to figure out her next move.