Page 57 of The Woman I’ve Become

I almost laugh. Just like on reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

Only this place is way, way more decked out. I survey the soaring ceiling. Gold trim. Huge paintings on the walls. All the marble and stone. A massive fireplace right here in the foyer or entry hall or whatever. Talk about over the top. This place is something.

I think I was in a museum once that looked sort of like this.

We reach another pair of towering open doors and pass through. To the immediate left is a beautiful decorative iron staircase that descends to a lower level. We take the stairs. The lower level is just as fancy, and the ceilings are still higher than normal even. Seriously over-the-top chic. This is definitely some billionaire’s crib.

The next set of double doors is closed. Casey yanks me around to face him. “You go in and you do exactly what he says.”

I want to ask questions but instead I nod. What’s to ask? I gotta do this. “Yeah, you said that already.”

“Remember,” he reminds me. “You’re doing this for Julia.”

He walks away before I can ask when he will be back to pick me up.

Rather than run after him, I take a big breath and open the door. I tell myself over and over that I’m doing this for Julia.

Inside, an older man, gray hair, thin white face, sits in an upholstered chair that kind of reminds me of a throne. Weird.

The door closes behind me without me touching it. I glance back just as the sound of the lock turning echoes in the silent room.

“Turn around.”

I do as he says. That’s when I see what looks like a remote control in his hand. He presses a button, and soft music starts to play. I wish he would press one to have food delivered by that butler guy. I’m starving.

“I ordered blond hair.”

The way he’s scrutinizing me is unnerving as hell. Casey must have fucked up, cause this guy wanted someone with blond hair. Julia doesn’t have blond hair, and I don’t either. I figure it’s best if I keep my mouth shut and wait for this dude to say more. Maybe he’ll send me on my way.

He waves his hand as if dismissing the issue. “You’ll do for now. Remove your clothing.”

I blink. A shot of uncertainty fires through me. I get it now. Damn. Julia is going to owe me big time after this.

I do as he says. Let the tight black dress I found at Goodwill drop to the floor.

“Everything,” he orders. “I need to inspect you.”

Well, fuck. Okay. I toe the shoes off and then wiggle out of my thong. I adopt the sexiest pose I can think of and wait. I know how to show off my assets. I’ll give this old bastard a time he will never forget.

He smiles. Clicks the remote, changing the music to something with a faster beat. “Now dance for me.”

I smile and do as I’m told.

Hopefully this will be over quick. He’s as old as shit. Probably needs one of those little blue pills to keep it up.

Now

24

Westport, Connecticut

By midafternoon I have prepared as well as I can. I spent a good deal of time in my bedroom pretending to nap. I heard Acacia stop outside the door repeatedly. No question, the girl takes her job very seriously. The problem is her real job is not to assist me but to report my every move to others and then do as she is told for reasons unrelated to my well-being.

I slip into the en suite bath and check my reflection before going downstairs. My root line is showing. I almost laugh. Such trivial things are the least of my concerns just now. Who cares how I look?

Once my enemies close in, all the final layers will fall away. Nothing will conceal me from them. They know at least part of what I have done—possibly not the most damning parts. Just as I know what they have done—to a point, at least.

In the narrow closet next to the tub, I dig through the items stockpiled there until I find the small handgun I purchased nearly a decade ago. It’s just over five inches long, weighs very little, and is top of the line. I have practiced with it a few times. I clean and reload it whenever I’m here. For now, I tuck it into the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back. It will interfere the least with my movements in that position. I have done this before when I needed to hide the fact that I was armed. The sweater I wear over my tee conceals it well.