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He called for me midafternoon.
We hadn't been allowed to sleep in, so our abbreviated night had caught up to all of us. We yawned our way through desultory workouts and through coffee and through normal daily prep. The showers weren't forced. We showered in our room. That had been, it seemed, the novelty of the new girl.
Go, me.
By midafternoon in the somnolent heat I was almost asleep, the classes not due to start for another blessed 90 minutes, when the guards came.
They didn't give any instructions other than he wanted me brought to him. He was in the living room. He wanted me there. End of discussion as far as the guards were concerned.
Maybe it was the late night and nagging exhaustion. Maybe it was feeling too much like things were going to change, so soon, we'd get the information out, and then we'd get ourselves out, and everything would be great.
Whatever it was, I didn't ask the guards to wait while I got ready, which I thought they would have more than willingly done, and I didn't put on makeup the way I'd been shown. Or at all. I didn't dress up or down. I had on the shorts I'd been wearing and a t-shirt, bare feet because there was nowhere to go and so shoes didn't seem necessary.
His rage was the first thing.
"They're supposed to prepare you. That idiot bitch! She knows what I want. What am I paying her for?"
I'd only just stepped free of the guards. They were two I didn't know, both men, both large, both dark. I hadn't seen a single female here except the harem, which didn't surprise me, even with Raven and Evie being the ones to procure Bevington's meat. This pair of guards would have looked comically cast as villains had there been anything comical about the situation. They were almost generic. Committing them to memory meant looking for scars, for moles, for birthmarks, for things other than facial hair or hair cuts. Committing them to memory meant looking for things that wouldn't change. I'd seen six different security men since coming here. So far, they were all distinct in my mind, especially the one who assaulted me in the shower room.
These two were doing nothing more than their job. Transport the new girl from the harem room to Bevington's bedroom. That was all they were told to do and all they did. In my opinion that made them every bit as culpable as Bevington himself. Just doing my job would never be an excuse.
I listened as the two of them moved away, despite Bevington already beginning to rage at me. I wanted to hear if two sets of footsteps actually moved off away from the door and out of earshot.
They did.
Bevington was very arrogant and very sure of himself. Unless he had mad martial arts skills – or a weapon – I thought his confidence was overrated.
"You wanted to see me?" He'd said he didn't want to be called Sir. I'd be happy to oblige.
The room was sunny, the sun coming through filmy curtains. Heavier curtains were open, letting in the light, but I could see where they could blackout the room when he had his migraines.
I thought he deserved migraines.
Everything in the room showed his money. The huge four poster bed, of rich dark wood, with leather and chains and handcuffs hanging from it. If I was going to get what I needed here before I tried to make a break for it, I wasn't going to enjoy the next hour or two.
I gritted my teeth. There was an expensive desk beside the windows, with very little on it. An umbrella stand beside it held a variety of canes, from natural wood to those made of manmade materials. I had no doubt the desk in here was used more often to stretch girls across for their canings than for any kind of work. Did he role play? Headmaster and naughty schoolgirl? The uniform I'd been given probably meant yes. The innocent girl framed by her peers, sent for her reckoning with the headmaster, he who wielded the cane. Whatever else was in the desk I didn't want to know.
What I didn't like was the smell in the room. There was something metallic or like the inside of a mechanic's garage. It almost registered on me but Bevington interrupted.
"This is how you come here?"
I blinked, almost said I didn't understand, and realized I was not made up and was wearing shorts.
"I – I thought – " I didn't think. But telling him that would be a bad idea. Bevington thought he should be top of everyone's minds in this house and not for the reason he thought, but yeah, he should be. It would be safer.
I'd made a critical, stupid mistake. Evie had packed the bag and shown me how to do makeup and dress. Theo had carried my bag inside after searching it.
Something tried to click there, but failed, because Bevington had just reached for me. I flinched back away from him, but he grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the floor. My knees hit and because he kept pulling me, stronger than he had any right to be, I half crawled, half staggered on my knees.
At the bed he pulled me up by my hair, threw me onto the bed. "There are security all over this house." His breath was cold and smelled like garbage. "They are loyal to me because I pay them and I pay them well and because I brought them here from poverty." He leaned in close and licked the inside of my ear.
I shuddered and pushed against him but he lay on me now like a heavy blanket. I struggled and felt the knife against my neck and stopped.
It wasn't the worst thing that would have ever happened to me. Another 48 hours at most and I'd be out of this place. I needed the time. I wanted the time in his office to take him down. Then I'd contact Cole. Then I'd find the way to get the information to the feds. Then I could knee Bevington in the groin and break his nose. And his fingers.
But not his neck. The best way to torture Bevington would be to take away everything he had, sell it all off and use the money to support women in every way possible.
Fight human sex trafficking.
