“You resigned,” he says. “I already gave up your lease and took care of your outstanding bills.”
“You can’t do that,” I exclaim. “My plant… the cats… nobody else will feed them.”
“Your neighbor kindly took your plant, and I’m paying for the food he’ll feed the cats. He also promised to return your library books.”
I jump to my feet. “You went back to see Bruce?”
“He sent a text to your phone to tell you what happened. He wisely thought he should warn you about the thieves targeting your building. I explained you were with me and wanted me to check on him.”
“You told him I was going away with you. Is that the lie you told him?”
“He was happy for you. Oh, and you’ll also be glad to know I replaced his phone. He was very grateful for the gesture.”
I swallow down my tears. I can’t believe this is happening. “You drugged me.”
“It was easier that way, less stressful for you.”
I curl my hands into balls at my sides. “You don’t know what’s easier for me.”
“Sit down and finish breakfast. We have work to do before I can show you the city.”
“You want to go fucking sightseeing?”
“Mind your tongue, Zoe. We’re really going to have to do something about your language.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” Every muscle in my body is trembling in rage. “As payoff for borrowing me?”
“No,” he says softly. “Not for that.”
“How long exactly is this borrowing supposed to last?”
“Three, four years. It’s hard to say. It all depends.”
Four years? I place a hand over my stomach, feeling sick again. “On what?”
“I can’t say.”
His calm indifference infuriates me. I want to slap him. Kill him. My gaze darts to the teapot. If I throw it into his face—
“Don’t even think about it,” he says. “Gautier and Benoit are right outside. I really don’t want to punish you, but I will. I’m not going to threaten you with Damian again. The next time you disobey me, I’ll put those threats into action.” He gets up and walks over, stopping close to me. “This,” he waves an arm around the room, “is not going to happen every day, maybe never again, so I suggest you make the most of it. Enjoy the food. Enjoy the trip. I went to a lot of effort and spent a lot of money to make this happen for you. Whether you hate it or set aside your pride to enjoy it won’t change your fate. You may as well make the wise choice and make the most of it.”
With his speech done, he watches me with a raised brow, waiting for me to make my decision. I want to fling myself at him in a fit of fury and punch him in his ugly face, but I can’t surrender to my anger. That’s not an option he gave me, not unless I want to suffer the consequences of getting my brother hurt. The wiser option is to tamp down my bitter anger and mad rage, and to obey like a dog.
It takes all the strength I possess to sit back down and fold my hands around the teacup. It hurts. It hurts my self-esteem and my pride, but I swallow it with my tears, not only for Damian, but also for myself.
“Good decision,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.
My body stiffens under his touch. Thankfully, he pulls his hand away.
While I force pancakes and strawberries down my throat, washing it down with rose petal tea, he makes phones calls in French. He stays on the far side of the lounge, as if giving me space would help to keep down my food.
When my plate is empty, he calls me over with a flick of his fingers.
I stand and walk over like the obedient dog he’s making of me.
Approval softens his features. He likes my obedience, or maybe it’s just easier for him not having to fight and threaten me constantly. “Would you like to have a shower? I’m having clothes sent over for you in a while.”
“I have clothes.” Which I love.
“They won’t serve you here.”
I give him a hateful look.
His smile is patient. “The weather here is much less forgiving than in your country.”
“I’ll have a shower,” I bite out.
“Another good choice.” Another mocking smile. “You’ll find everything you need in the bathroom.”
I go to the bathroom and lock the door for good measure. As he promised, the cabinet is stocked with cosmetics and toiletries. I even find my normal brand of shampoo as well as the conditioner I could never afford.
Opting for the shower instead of the bath, I quickly wash and dry off. I apply some body lotion to alleviate the dryness of my skin. I don’t know if it’s a side effect of the drugs or the flight. I’ve never travelled. I do know from reading that Venice is a fourteen-hour-long flight from Johannesburg. The surrealism of it all still shakes me to my core. When I’m done, I pull on a clean robe with a hotel logo.
Maxime is waiting in the lounge when I step out. There’s a rail with dresses, jackets, and coats. Several pairs of boots are displayed on the floor. A box with underwear stands on the coffee table.
“I think this is your size,” he says.
Despite my resolution to take as little from Maxime as possible, I can’t help but go over to admire the clothes. My fingers itch to touch the fabric. I lift a tag and nearly faint at the price. It’s Valentino. I’ve never shopped in a department store, let alone a boutique. My clothes are either self-made or bought at the flea market. Owning a piece from a world-renowned designer has only featured in my dreams, which is why I drop the tag. I’m not giving Maxime more of my dreams.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Don’t you like the clothes?”
I turn to face him. “No.”
He shrugs. “Then I’ll choose what you wear.”
I watch with mounting anger as he takes a navy wool dress with white sailor collar and matching coat from the rail.
“I think this will look good on you.” He pushes the items into my hands. “Go put that on.”
I jut out my chin. “No.”
“You prefer to go out naked?” Something sparks in his eyes, something dark and demented, as if the idea appeals to him. “Maybe I should let you walk around without clothes. I could put a collar and chain on you instead. Would you like that? Would the way people look at you make you wet?”
“You’re sick,” I spit out.
He puts his nose inches from mine. “Right now you still have a choice. Remember what I said about not wasting the little you have.”
Dumping the blue set on the couch, I back away. “Fine. You win. You can have your way in this, but you’ll never have a piece of my soul.”
He smiles. “I never asked for your soul.”
Seething, I spin away from him and flip through the clothes with more force than necessary. My hand stills on a beautiful pink coat with a scrunched collar. The matching dress is a fitted cut with puffy sleeves.
“Good choice,” he says.
Grabbing the box with the underwear, I escape to the room. The dress fits perfectly. I finish off the outfit with nude winter tights and boots.
A knock falls on the door just as I finish drying my hair. I pull a brush through it and reluctantly open the door.