Her lips thinned into a straight line. “I love you, Patrick. I never stopped. I just put you away in a safe place. I loved you every day by loving Ruby.”
“She’s amazing. You have done a fantastic job.”
“My pride and joy and reason for living,” Madeline said. “She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
I took a step back, releasing her. “Get dressed. I’ll take the other clothes out and off the plane, and I’ll meet you at the table.”
Madeline nodded as she stepped into the new panties.
“Damn,” I said, “I told them to forget those.”
Her green eyes snapped up to mine. “You did not.”
“I never stopped loving you either,” I confessed. “I don’t know what exactly Sparrow has planned, but know I’m there for you.”
“And him,” she said.
“I am, Maddie. Don’t make me choose.”
“You’d choose him?”
“Either choice would break my heart. You already did that once.”
She nodded, fastening the bra behind her back. “I didn’t do it willingly. I won’t now.”
Opening the door, I stepped out, closing her in, and with her dress, panties, and shoes in my grasp, I made my way toward the front of the plane.
Madeline
Now fully dressed, the woman in the mirror caused me to still as I gripped the vanity.
How often did people see themselves and not really look?
The months I was deprived of the opportunity created an undeniable need to assess myself while at the same time, I didn’t want to see. I used to wake to a nightmare of the bathroom in the house with the cell. In my nightmare, when I first entered the bathroom with the warm shower, the mirror was present, yet I barely recognized the girl in the reflection. It was as if I possessed someone else’s body. She wasn’t me, not any longer. Her eyes were dead, devoid of emotion, her hair dirty, tangled, and matted with customers’ semen, and her skin was filthy from the cell’s cement floor.
It was as if the inability to ever see that girl—not until after the sale at the senator’s home—cemented her within my subconscious.
As I’d put Patrick away, so too had I that damaged girl.
My hair and skin were now clean. My eyes were revived by the resuscitating birth of my child. To the world, I was a renowned poker player and to Ruby, I was her mom. Staring at myself, I wondered what the men around that table in the front of the plane would see once my mask of normalcy that I’d fought for so long to maintain was ripped away.
Would they see me as I was—a commodity to be bought and sold?
Would they consider me culpable for my life in the Ivanov bratva?
Would they see me as Andros and Marion did—an indebted person who had traded her freedom for a life with her daughter?
On the exterior, I appeared as I portrayed myself to be.
With the green dress disposed of, a white sweater and black slacks were now my clothes. My dark hair shone, flowing over my shoulders and down my back, maintained with expensive shampoos and conditioners, as well as healthy nutrition. My eyes were still as green, now appearing more dramatic with eyeliner and mascara. My skin was clean and soft, courtesy of soaps and lotions. My shell—my mask—was intact.
What would happen when it wasn’t?
I reached for the doorknob, still thinking about Patrick and his friends.
The hardest part was almost over, waiting for their reaction.
Memories flooded my mind.
The dam I’d created no longer existed, smashed to shreds by my reunion with Patrick as well as the shock of Andros and Marion’s transaction. Everything I’d buried was raw and alive within me, prickling my skin, causing the small hairs to rise upon my arms. It was as if I were back in time.
Waiting for the door to open after being left alone by Miss Warner.
Waiting for the auction, my eyes blindfolded and wrists bound.
Waiting for Andros’s approval or permission.
Waiting.
I either wasn’t good at waiting, or I excelled. No matter my proficiency, it was the time my mind filled with endless possibilities.
What would the kingpin of Chicago say about our recently discovered connection?
How would Patrick react if Mr. Sparrow indeed saw me as a threat?
My neck straightened as I inhaled, gripping the doorknob tighter. No matter what was said, I wouldn’t make Patrick choose.
Opening the door, I stepped into the aft cabin, moving toward the front of the plane.
“Mrs. Kelly?”
I turned toward Millie. “Yes?”
“It’s none of my business, but I want you to know that Mr. Kelly is a good man.”
I felt my cheeks rise. “I agree with you.”
“I’m not blind. I respect the choices and decisions they make. Nevertheless, he’s different than the others. He sees things the others don’t. He comments. He follows through. This job is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I owe that to him, too. I suppose ultimately the gratitude belongs to Mr. Sparrow, but my friend Jana told me it was really Mr. Kelly who secured it.”
I peered over my shoulder toward the closed partition. Smiling back at Millie, I said, “Sometime, I’d like you to tell me more. I believe they’re expecting me, and I get the feeling these men don’t like to wait.”
She smiled. “You’re right. I just wanted you to know that I’m happy that he has someone. He deserves the best.”
As if she’d flipped a switch, my smile dimmed. “I’m not sure that’s me.”
“If he thinks you are, I believe that’s what matters.”
“Thank you. I better go.”
“We’ll take off as soon as you’re seat-belted,” she said.
“I’ll hurry.”
I went closer to the partition and stilled as my heart rate increased. The swishing of my pulse muffled the voices from the other side of the door. I didn’t need to hear words; I was confident their topic of conversation was about to enter.
“Gentlemen, your attraction has arrived.”
Shaking away a shiver, I took a deep breath and knocked. The deep voice bidding me entrance wasn’t Patrick’s. I now recognized it as Mr. Sparrow’s.
Sliding open the partition, I scanned the men.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the plane’s ventilation. Their conversation ceased, whatever had been on the large screen disappeared into darkness, and their body language gave no clues. Well, Mr. Sparrow’s and Mason’s didn’t. Patrick’s blue eyes shone as he took me in, scanning me from the top of my head to the toes of the boots.
Smiling, Patrick stood.
“Oh,” Mason said, unbuckling his seatbelt and presumably remembering his manners.
“No,” I said, waving Mason off. “Millie said it’s time to go.”
“Past,” Mr. Sparrow interjected.
I could have mentioned that it was his decision for me to change clothes. I didn’t. Instead, I walked around the table to the seat beside Patrick. “I’m sorry for the delay.”
As soon as I was seated, the plane began to move, resuming its drive to the runway.
Mr. Sparrow leaned back, his dark eyes fixed on me. “Patrick said you know. How long have you known?”