She’d been swept up in a fairy tale, convinced somehow that things would be wonderful, that he was some sort of prince. Her mind went to the after party. She felt so confused by everything that had happened all the way from Sergio at the theater, to the very end. How had she slept with two strange men? She’d done it, and she’d liked it. She wished more than anything she could say that she hadn’t.
There was no morning-after regret except perhaps for the regret that she didn’t feel like she thought she should feel. Dirty. Maybe all the phone sex really had desensitized her to this sort of thing. Maybe she’d been lying to herself all this time. Maybe she’d really been a whore on the phone. Or maybe it was the fact that she knew her relationship with Anton was permanent. Despite whatever weird games he’d been playing with her—the opportunities she’d been given to escape—by the time of the party, she’d been sure Anton was done with that suicidal mission.
The most upsetting part of the night had been when Anton had started touching Katya. It hurt. Rationally, she knew it shouldn’t. They’d just met, and he’d made no promises to her. But jealousy was an involuntary emotion. It wasn’t a rational thing she could control.
Annette heard the balcony door click open. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and was surprised when arms wrapped around her waist and lips found the side of her throat. He kissed her like they were old lovers, like they’d known each other a hundred years. As if nothing had happened. As if she weren’t his slave. As if there was no tension and bad feeling between them.
“I brought you some breakfast, kiska. Would you like to eat it out here?”
She heard herself say, “Yes, Master.” It was easier. He left her and went back inside for a moment, but a moment was enough for her mind to scurry down a rabbit trail.
What if she just did everything he said? What if she didn’t fight him on anything? Didn’t tell even the whitest of lies? What if she just buried any feeling of jealousy and was absolutely compliant? What then? He could still be evil. He could still hurt her, and he probably would, but it was the only option she had. She couldn’t figure out another course of action she had available. Appease and hope. That was it.
This felt like an abusive relationship. Annette had known girls like this. Friends even. It always followed the same pattern. She does some minor thing to upset him. He flies off the handle and shouts and hurts her. He comes crawling back and apologizes. He gives her presents. He swears it will never happen again. Until it does. Each time it gets worse. And each time the girl thinks if she just doesn’t set him off… if she can just be perfect… if she can just avoid making him mad, things will stay good. Because the good times are so good. It’s such an addiction. It’s so hard to leave when it’s good. But it can’t work. Because he’s sick. He’s addicted to the cycle of drama, and ultimately, so is she.
But this wasn’t the same thing. Anton was not her boyfriend. He’d made no real promises to her except sparing her sister’s life in exchange for her. He’d made it clear what the rules were from the beginning. She’d agreed to this twisted deal. He hadn’t apologized or promised her it wouldn’t happen again. And there was nowhere for her to go, despite the opportunities she’d had. Those opportunities would never come again—she was sure of it. She’d been foolish, and now it was too late to do anything but try to appease the madman whose power she existed under.
“Kiska?”
Annette turned to find he’d set the table for them from a cart he’d rolled onto the balcony. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him return. This morning he wore jeans and a T-shirt, and looked more beautiful than he had the right to.
She turned back from the railing and sat in the chair he held out for her. They had moved to the gentleman portion of his insane behavioral cycle. She wondered if apologies would come next. Or perhaps gifts.
There was a vase with a single rose in the middle of the table. She wasn’t sure if this counted as a gift or if it was just part of the decorum of breakfast for Anton. After all, breakfast was set with crystal glasses and fine bone china plates. Maybe this was just Anton.
There was sausage and eggs and croissants and fruit and juice.
“Coffee?” he asked, indicating a pot and two saucers and cups on the second row of the cart.
“Yes, please.”
He poured them both a cup and set out some cream and sugar.
Annette ate silently, waiting. From the moment he’d thrown her into the cell the previous night—even though he’d later let her come to bed—she’d seen herself as she truly was. A prisoner. It colored even his kindness in a dark way.
Anton took a sip of his coffee. He drank it black. “I’ve decided to take a few days off from the spa so I can train you.”
She cringed at that. If he noticed, he pretended he hadn’t.
“We won’t be going to the ballet again for a while. I’ll be keeping you at the house until then. It was a mistake to take you out so soon.”
She thought she might hyperventilate. The house was huge—like a resort really, and there was so much space outside. Still, the idea of being stuck in this one place for so long…
“Where is the perimeter?” She held up the wrist with the shiny metal band on it. “How far can I go before I get zapped?” What if the bracelet didn’t even work? Maybe it was just a mind game. What if it wasn’t even real? She was determined to find out if he ever let her out of his sight long enough.
“I’d have to ask Brian. I’m not sure where he set the boundaries.”
Anton acted like the previous day hadn’t even happened. She wanted to lash out, but it would definitely bring a punishment. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing it up.
“Last night you said we’d talk today.”
“What is there to talk about? You didn’t know my rules. You acted out. I got upset. It was too soon to take you out into the world. I forget you have no experience with my world. You will learn.”
He acted like all of this was her fault.
“I thought you said you’d be kind to me.” As if that were something she could trust from a man like Anton.
He’d been calmly buttering his croissant. An eyebrow rose. He laid the knife and the bread down. “I said I would be kind if you obeyed me. You still have much to learn about what it is to be a good and obedient pet.”
He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Call your sister. I told her she would hear from you every day. We can’t miss our check in.”
Annette stared at the phone. Less than twenty-four hours ago she’d spoken to Janette, insisting and believing that things would somehow be fine. She didn’t believe it anymore and her sister was one of the very few people she couldn’t get away with lying to. Maybe it was the twin thing.
“I can’t call her. She’ll know I’m lying.”
“Then don’t lie. I know such a thing seems nearly impossible for you, but the fact is, telling the truth is an option. You should try it.”
“You think she wouldn’t call the police if she knew what you were doing to me?”
“I think if she’s smart she’ll keep cashing her school checks and living her life. Call.”