Page 32 of Caging Liberty
What is going on?
“I want to go,” I tell him, my eyes still closed. I open them and spin toward Mr. A. “I want to leave.Now.”
“Ivy…”
“Please,” I beg, my throat clogging.
He stares into my eyes a moment and must see the turmoil raging in my mind because his face softens with pity as he nods. “Okay.” He takes my hand and leads me through the crowd until we’re out into the hallway. Light blinds me, and when the doors shut behind us, it’s uncomfortably quiet.
Mr. A guides me down the hall and up a flight of stairs. It seems like we walk for a long time before he opens a bedroom door and steps to the side.
“What are we doing?” I ask, hesitant to step through the threshold.
“This is your new bedroom.” He gestures inside. “It’s okay. Go.”
I step past him and am relieved when he follows behind me, kicking the door shut once we’re both inside the large bedroom. Six beds total line the walls, only a couple of them made. Women’s clothing is strewn about, and the surface of a dresser off to my right is caked with makeup and has a mirror attached to it. A curling iron rests haphazardly on the end, still plugged into a wall outlet.
He guides me farther into the room with his hand on my lower back as I let my gaze roam over the cream-colored walls with magazine clippings tacked to them. When we come to one of the beds, Mr. A lifts a pillow as if to inspect it before tossing it down.
“I don’t know if this one is taken, but it’ll do for tonight. Sawyer will show you your permanent bed tomorrow.”
I squint with confusion and look around. “That’s it?” I ask, turning to look at him. “That’s all I had to do?”
“Well,” he drags out the word, “I had intended to stay longer than that, and it would’ve been nice to find Sawyer so he could see your obedience for himself. But yes, that’s it.”
I spot an open book, face down on an accent chair. “Are you sure Sawyer is going to be okay with this?”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I hold my breath while staring at his blank expression, trying to gauge what he’s thinking. I didn’t know how badly I wanted to be with the other women until it became a possibility, and now that it has, the idea of going back to that bedroom by myself is suffocating.
I’ve done nothing for who knows how long, and the thought of returning to that crippling boredom hits me all at once. The book laying on the chair is more tempting than any carrot they’ve dangled in front of me.
I could read. I could talk to someone other than myself and Mr. A. My eyes drift to a door opened a crack, white tile and porcelain visible through the sliver.
I couldshower.
“Do you think he will be?” I ask again, trying to keep my voice as indifferent as possible, though the desperation is evident to my own ears.
Mr. A steps up to me and slowly reaches his hand toward my face. He stares me in the eyes like he’s waiting for me to jerk away or hit him or something. Before I saw this room, I probably would’ve. Before I saw Anna come, Idefinitelywould’ve.
I swallow and close my eyes, trying not to hate myself as his hand brushes my hair back behind my ear.
I don’t want to fight. Not this. Not right now. Not with him.
So, I stay still, and when he brushes his knuckles over my shoulder, I shudder.
“Do you remember when you asked me if I have much influence on Sawyer?”
I nod, not opening my eyes.
“I do. I can’t promise I’ll grant all your wishes, but I won’t ever make a deal with you that I can’t follow through on.”
When his touch leaves me, I open my eyes. His expression tells me he’s serious, yet I can’t read what he’s thinking. I lower my eyes, biting my lip when I take in the erection bulging through his pants.
“Take off your shoes.”
I hesitate a few seconds, unsure if I really want to go down this road. He clearly wants me. What’s the next thing he’ll have me take off?
I shudder, the thought both terrifying and exciting. I should be repulsed, but I’m not. He’s… I don’t know. He’s different.