“Why?”
“Because—” I was caught off guard by the sound of the doorbell.
She turned to the entryway, her eyebrows raised. “Who is that?”
I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Miranda. Come up. “My property manager. Assistant. Whatever you want to call her.” I grabbed the mug and took a drink as I stood at the counter, listening to the elevator hum as it brought her to our level.
“Should I leave?”
“No. You’re the reason she’s here.”
The elevator doors opened, and Miranda came into the room, carrying a long plastic bag to protect the dresses underneath, along with a few bags for the shoes and other accessories. “Good morning, Magnus.” She was a few years older than Raven, always dressed in heels and a skirt, even when she brought me heavy groceries and everything else I asked for. She moved to the couch and laid down the hanger over the back, placing the extra bags on the table.
Raven was quiet, like she didn’t know if she was allowed to talk.
Miranda unzipped the covering and then pulled out the two dresses. “I’ve got two. Pick the one you want, and I’ll make the alterations.” She turned to Raven. “Raven, right?”
Raven stepped forward and extended her hand. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. So, what do you think?”
“About what?” Raven glanced back at me, like she had no idea what was going on.
I stepped forward, holding my mug in my hand. “You need something to wear on Saturday, so Miranda picked out these gowns.”
“Oh…” She looked at the two gowns spread over the back of the couch. “Sorry, I just… It’s been a long time since I tried on clothes.”
Miranda held up the first one, classic black, which hung down to the floor with a slit that went all the way up the thigh and had an interesting array of straps at the top. “You can’t go wrong with black, and while it’s a simple dress, the unique array of straps the designer created for this piece really makes it stand out.” She laid the dress down again and grabbed the other. “This is the total opposite. The purple color is perfect for a summer event, and the subtle texture in the fabric will give it a slight sheen under the light of a chandelier. Either one will look great on you, so there’s no wrong choice.”
Raven continued to stand there and stare, like she didn’t know what to do. “Uh…” It seemed to be overwhelming to her.
I made the decision for her. “Black.”
“Alright.” Miranda returned the purple dress to the protective cover then held the black dress out to Raven. “Try this on for me with these heels so I can put the pins in.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of black high heels with satin bows at the backs.
Raven took everything then walked into her old bedroom and shut the door.
Miranda turned to me. She hesitated, like she wanted to ask about Raven’s peculiar behavior, but she didn’t. “Is there anything you need me to do while I’m here?”
“No.” I drank from my coffee. “Raven doesn’t get out much, so she’s not used to this sort of thing.”
She nodded. “You don’t try on designer gowns every day.”
Raven returned minutes later in the tall heels and the tight dress. She was petite, so it was a little long on her and it could be taken in around her waist, but it already looked stunning on her, especially that slit up her thigh.
Miranda got to work and put the pins in place so she could alter it and sew it back into place. On her knees, she worked, clipping it in all the right places.
Raven stood there, balancing in the high heels, looking out of place in a dress that cost me €5,000. She was confident in the uniform she had to wear at the camp, but in a Paris apartment in a designer gown, she was uncomfortable.
Miranda stood up when she was finished. “Great. Now, just take it off, and I’ll be on my way.”
Raven went back into the bedroom, changed, and then returned with the dress.
Miranda gathered everything, said a few final words to me, and let herself out.
When she was gone and Raven was back in the dress she’d put on that morning, she returned to her usual self. “I’ve never worn anything like that in my life. This is going to be a fancy party, isn’t it?”
“Very.” I stood at the counter and continued to drink my coffee.
She stood across from me, just the way we did in her apartment. “You think I’ll have a chance to talk to Melanie in private?”
“Not sure.” Whenever I saw Fender with Melanie in public, she was always right at his side. “But I’m sure if Melanie asked, he would give her whatever she wanted. And it’s a big place…easy to duck into another room.”
She gave a slow nod. “I haven’t seen her in so long… How is she?”
“She’s treated very well—from what I’ve gathered.”
“That’s good.” Her gaze shifted to look out the window, the natural light coming in and lighting up her face. Her hands rested on the edge of the counter, and she got lost in her thoughts.
I drank my coffee and studied her. “What are you thinking?”
She shook her head slightly, her gaze still out the window. “That I want to see Melanie, but I don’t want to spend my evening with a bunch of rich people when I can be here…with you.”
Being stripped down naked and dragged into the open by a madman hadn’t changed her desire for me. Her nails sliced into my skin, she breathed into my mouth, and she whispered my name like it would live on the tip of her tongue for the rest of her life. I preferred to be on top because I liked feeling those nails carve my back, liked pressing her into the mattress underneath me as I claimed her as mine, liked feeling those sexy legs around my waist. But every time she got on top of me, I couldn’t believe how good it was.
She fucked me good.
That night, she moved off me then turned around, on all fours, her back arched, her ass up.
The moonlight outlined her sexy curves, the deep curve in her lower back, the perkiness of her cheeks. Her long hair stretched down the center of her back, the curls falling out as the day progressed.
But all I could see were the scars.
Even in the darkness, I could see them…because I knew exactly what to look for.
I’d held that whip in my hand and beat her with it. I’d sliced open her skin, made her lose enough blood that she almost slipped under. I’d hit her again and again and watched her body grow weak then hang from the branch. It was one of the worst moments of my life. The pain and the shame made me sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t handle the sight, so I looked away.
When I didn’t move behind her, she looked over her shoulder. “Magnus.”
I wouldn’t look at her. “I told you I don’t want to look at it.” My gaze was turned to the window, partially obstructed by the curtains. When we were in bed together and I opened my eyes to her bare back, I always turned the other way. I did whatever I could to pretend the scars never happened, and the only way I could do that was by not looking at them.
“Magnus…” She turned her body so she was back on the bed, lying down with her body propped up, looking at me.