Page 23 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
A frown takes over my face. “My mom? How did you—”
“Mr. C says you can speak to her. Only five minutes. Make the most of them.”
The moment turns surreal as Ms. Poitier passes me the phone and then stands back to wait the conversation out.
It takes me another second to grasp what’s happening. I wasn’t aware Caelian had the means to contact my mother nor that he would care to. My phone and laptop were both confiscated once I was brought here. Is that how he got a hold of her number, or was it through other means?
Ignazio and the dance company? The Vorones?
I bring the phone up to my ear with distrust laced in my voice. “Mom?”
“Nevaeh baby,” comes her achingly familiar voice. “I’ve been so worried about you. How is your new arrangement?”
“Fine,” I answer carefully. My eyes flick across the room to where Ms. Poitier stands. A constant reminder I’m not alone and can’t speak freely. “How did you get a hold of me?”
“Never mind that. I’m just glad to know you’re in one piece.”
My brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know what I mean. I heard about your escape attempt. It was reckless of you—what have I told you about fleeing from your contract?”
“I was bought out of it.”
“But until ownership was transferred, you were still beholden to it,” she scolds. “It’s only due to kindness on your husband’s part that you’re unharmed for what you’ve done. Tell me about what you’ve brought with you.”
My posture goes rigid, though I try to act natural. Ms. Poitier wears a soft, almost motherly expression as she hovers near the door and eavesdrops on the conversation. The contrast is so strange it becomes unnerving—listening to my real mother, who’s almost impersonal, while staring at a woman I’ve only known for a few days that fits the maternal role perfectly. Yet neither woman truly feels like an ally.
Both women carry an undercurrent of ulterior motives.
Ms. Poitier works for Caelian first and foremost. Mom has always been obedient, and even a proponent of the system we’ve found ourselves living in. The flesh trade she and Dad signed my life away to in the name of our family’s self-preservation…
I clear my throat and choose my words carefully on both fronts. “I have everything that’s important with me.”
“Oh, good,” Mom says. The relief’s imbued in her tone. “For a second, I thought you’d forgotten what was key.”
“I never would…”
“Your father would be upset. It meant the world to him. It’s very important you have it with you.”
“You sound more concerned with my things than me.”
Mom clicks her tongue in a sound of offense. “Of course not! My baby girl comes above all. You’re unharmed and that matters most.”
Ms. Poitier taps her wristwatch to let me know time’s winding down. Surprisingly, I’m grateful for the cue. I’ve had enough chatting with Mom to last me for a few days.
“Time’s up. I’m not sure when we’ll talk again.”
“I was told weekly. Remember we love you. Take care of yourself and what’s ours.”
The coded language only frustrates me further. We hang up with me doing my best to keep from rolling my eyes.
I’d assumed talking to Mom might lift my spirits. Instead, all it’s done is put me in an even worse mood. I’m sick and tired of being everyone’s pawn.
Ms. Poitier comes over to collect the phone. “I’m sure she was happy to hear from you.”
“Where’s Caelian?” I ask.
“Mr. C is unavailable at this time.”