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I supposed it wasn’t easy to watch while being unable to stop what happened. That was the point, of course. It was all about power, and putting us in our place.
I nodded. "Yeah, thanks." What I wanted right now was a few minutes to myself. Although, if Dagen was going to watch, we should give him a show. On the other hand, I did my share of touching another person for a while.
I loved nothing better than a long shower, but this time, the one I took was quick. I washed everywhere, taking special care with my face and my knees. I rinsed my mouth several times. It would never get the taste out of my memory. On the day I died I would remember. My stomach turned again.
When I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body and another round my hair, I smelled the evidence that Asshole actually followed through with his promise of food.
"Is that…bacon?" Maybe I misjudged his evil just a little bit.
"Yeah, but it's undercooked," Ben said.
Or maybe he was as evil as I thought.
Before I ate, I stepped into the wardrobe and rifled through the clothes. Most of it looked like things I would wear: dark skirts, white or red blouses, even heels. A shelf contained several different sizes of underwear. The fact he didn't know what size I wore was perversely satisfying. Clearly he hadn't broken into my house and gone through my underwear drawer. That was good to know. No, it wasreallygood to know. It meant his creep factor was ninety-nine point nine percent, rather than one hundred percent. A small but significant difference.
It didn't make him any less of an asshole.
There was even a box of makeup tucked away in a corner. Rude. What made him think I wore makeup?
I opened the lids of a few of the pallets of eyeshadow, and tested the mascara. None of it was my preferred brand, but it would do.
By the time I stepped out of the wardrobe, I was looking and feeling myself again. For now.
"Did you leave me anything?" I asked.
Ben paused with his fork half way to his mouth. He glanced down at his plate, then back at me before he realised I was teasing.
"I left plenty," he said before he shoved his fork into his mouth. "I tasted a bit of everything. Just to make sure it was safe to eat."
I slipped into a chair. "That's good thinking. Unless you died."
"At least we wouldn't both be dead," he pointed out. He didn't seem the slightest bit concerned at the idea of eating poisoned food to save me. I guess that was the job he signed up for as my bodyguard.
Still, with this—whatever this seemed to be growing between us—I wasn't sure how I felt about him risking himself. Losing bodyguards was part of the job. Losing people I cared about…not so much. Under the circumstances, it might be safer not to care. As if I could switch that on and off like a tap.
I grabbed two slices of bread and put bacon, cheese and all the greens onto my sandwich. Jake would almost approve. I thought about taking off the bacon, but he wasn't here to see it. And, you know, I am actually an adult.
In theory.
In spite of the persistent turning in my stomach, I bit into my sandwich and ate. It would suck if I saw the opportunity to escape, but didn't have the energy to do it.
The moment the food hit my stomach, it wanted to bounce back out again. My hands trembled. I tried to force them to stop. My heart raced, vision blurred. All I could see was his cock in front of my face.
It was suddenly incredibly difficult to breathe.
"Have they cut off the oxygen in here or something?" I tried to sound light, but failed. I wanted to run to the window and suck in a bunch of air. He said it wouldn't open, but I could break it. Maybe a chair through the glass…
"Ivory? Ivory. The air is fine. You just need to breathe." How did Ben sound so calm?
"Look at me," he insisted.
"Who is the boss here?" I managed to say. My heart pounded, but it slowed a tiny bit at the sound of his voice. I looked straight at him and breathed in and out through my nose.
He smiled. "Still you. It looks like bacon doesn't agree with you. I better eat yours." He pretended to reach for it.
At least, I assumed he was pretending, because he seemed relatively attached to his hands.
I slapped one of them lightly. "If you touch my bacon, you won't need to worry about whatever Dagen might do to you," I mock growled.
