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My own breathing sounded harsh in the hallway.
20
Cole
Now, we had a problem.
Not just what to do with Kie.
But what to do about Annie, who thought so little of the contract she'd signed that she refused to follow orders to stay behind. That she'd followed Jason and me into the maze.
That she'd been right.
21
Annie
That evening there was a round table of sorts. Six guards, Jason, Theo, four I didn't know – for all I knew, St. Martin had recruited them from Kie's crew. I didn't know what had happened to those men and that seemed dangerous enough for me to ask.
When the time was right.
St. Martin sat at the table with us. Everyone had a beverage, though most chose water or at most a Coke Zero. For all that there's an obesity epidemic in the US, it was a healthy, fit, fantastic looking table.
"I have been planning to take her to Hennings," St. Martin said.
It was the first I'd heard the other billionaire's name, but it did me no good. Even this far into the game I didn't know the names of all the billionaires in the world. I didn't even know the names of all the kinky ones in the valley who got together with St. Martin.
He was waiting for input and the men at the table were waiting for direction. When St. Martin lost his patience smacked the flat of his hand hard on the table and demanded they give him ideas, all of us jumped.
"Why not send her where you meant to, Sir?" I asked. It had been the plan. A complete sexual sadist with a desire for his own sub who'd put up with everything. Sounded like a match made in – well, hell, but like they'd both enjoy it.
Like I'd enjoyed hitting Kie. Had to admit it. I hadn't liked St. Martin cleaning the wound with straight rubbing alcohol, the scrape I'd gotten from Kie's teeth, but he was right to do it.
For a minute I thought he wasn't going to answer me, and I could feel the blush trying to creep up my neck from his ignoring me. But after a second he said, "She's a liability. She's dangerous. How in good faith do I send her to someone? Even with a warning?"
His eyes met mine and stared me down.
"Because that's what the other person is looking for," Jason said, an unexpected ally. He met my eyes across the table, expressionless. "You need her gone. Hennings needs a sub. Send her with full warnings and tell the truth. I don't see the problem."
St. Martin looked like he saw a problem, but he'd asked for input and he was getting it. Not like he could complain.
Over the next twenty minutes plans were made and scrapped. There was talk about what had happened to Vincent Geddes' estate and whether a talented hacker could claim it for her. Insanely, St. Martin was considering whether setting Kie up with her own place somewhere in France, hiring guards to stay there and "make certain she didn't leave" but allowing her a life of her own – lonely but taken care of and autonomous.
"You're kidding, right?" It was out before I even had a chance to think of stopping it. When they were all looking at me, I went ahead and sealed my fate. "You might as well trust a scorpion not to sting you." Everyone knew that story, right? "Or – or a wasp or – or – " Everything I was thinking of was a stinging thing. Like a jellyfish. I was looking for something else and not coming up with it.
The guards were watching me like I was an amazing talking houseplant.
St. Martin was watching me like I was an amazing idiot. He was probably closer to right.
That was the difference, I thought. Between me and the billionaires. Between me and St. Martin or even me and Cole when he wasn't the new and terrifying version of himself.
Contract or not, this would remain a game to me.
Maybe not a game. But nothing real, either. To me, it was part time. Or at least, dependent on logic. I wasn't ready to look at the equation as in Say St. Martin wants to hurt, and say I, just for shits and giggles, want to be hurt. Surely in the event of an emergency –
But I couldn't look at it that way yet. He believed that he owned me. I believed that for reasons I did not yet understand, I wanted to be here. I found this to be more home than Seattle and the people I had there. As a result, I was here, under his control.
But it didn't spread farther than that for me. If the house was burning down and we were both in it, I wasn't going to wait on some stupid, make believe protocol before I was "allowed" to raise the alarm. If the house was burning down, I was going to scream bloody murder, wake everyone, grab things that needed to be kept safe, like St. Martin himself, whose self preservation I was beginning to question. If it came to that, I'd throw off the mantle of sub, or slave, or property. I thought logic and life outweighed a game of make believe.
