Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
All seems quiet, but I don’t know if we can trust it.
How long is this situation going to keep me under lock and key? What if the days string into weeks and the weeks into months?
I talk to my sister and Cosette and Gwen, my sister’s friend and another employee here.
It’s a small circle of friends but I love them.
I love my new hairstyle, and I am really in love with this club. It isn’t just the luxurious accommodations, or the feeling like I wake up every day in a bed-and-breakfast. It’s so much more.
It’s the deep, intimate, relationships I witness firsthand on a daily basis. It’s the knowledge that Thayer, as master and owner of this club, won’t let so much as a stray mouse inside these premises without permission. And I know deep down inside, above all, it’s the feeling of safety.
But I can’t help but wonder if it’s a false sense of security. Am I only safe if I’m hidden? How long will he hide me?
At first, I wondered with every day that passed if I would feel more secure in our relationship. But it seems to be having the opposite effect.
He won’t take me into a public room. All our meals are ordered and sent to his private suite.
And even though this is a spacious place to be, I miss Paris. I miss who I was in Paris, I miss being a grad student. I miss strolling alongside the Seine. I even miss shopping. Anything I need, he sends here, but it isn’t the same.
And even though being with Thayer is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done, a part of me wants to see what else this club has to offer.
I want more.
I don’t like not knowing where the danger lies, and I don’t just mean the people who are after me. Sometimes I feel as if Thayer paws the ground, like a bull ready to charge.
I don’t know if I want to be the one waving the red flag when he does.
One day, a couple weeks after we arrived, Thayer leaves me for a few hours. When he returns, he doesn’t tell me where he was or what he did. I don’t usually ask questions, but this time I do. I want to know how long this interminable wait will continue.
“So. Do you have any more leads? Any more talk about where I am or who I am?”
“No.”
“Do they still think the decoy was me?”
“I’m not sure.”
I blow out a breath. “How will you be sure? How much longer will this be?”
“Will what be?”
I gesture around the room. “Staying hidden like this. I feel some days like the walls are closing in on me.”
He gives me a long look.
“As long as it takes.”
I sigh impatiently and clench my jaw. I’m not surprised when he walks over to me and makes me look at him by taking my chin in his hand. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to hide anymore, Thayer. I miss going outside. I miss being able to do things like shop, and go to class, and grab some pastry at a bakery. I miss socializing and parties and all the things I used to do.”
I don’t know how to tell him that I fear I’m not enough for him. Will I ever be enough, or am I just a passing fling to him? I still can’t help but wonder if he needs someone like one of those stunningly beautiful submissives, or one of the willing servants.
A part of me wonders what he does when he’s not with me.
“Savannah.”
“I don’t like being here, all alone,” I tell him. “I don’t…” I look away from him then, because I suddenly don’t feel good. I feel like I’m going to cry, and I hate that. I don’t like feeling like my emotions are getting the best of me. I shake my head. “I don’t wanna talk right now.”
I wonder if he’s going to make me talk because he doesn’t allow me to hold anything back from him. I believe that good communication skills are essential in any working relationship, but I wonder if sometimes he needs to respect my privacy.
“Are you okay?”
I look away.
“I have a little bit of a headache. Probably just getting my period.”
Frowning, he takes his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling a doctor.”
And that’s Thayer. He is the most overprotective human I’ve ever met in my life. An utter perfectionist, he dots every i and crosses every t and leaves no room whatsoever for error.
He’s not calling the doctor for a headache.
“I don’t need to see a doctor. It’s just a headache. I get them sometimes.”
He gives me a sharp look. “And you’re just telling me this now?”
I shrug. “Why would I randomly tell you I sometimes get headaches when I’ve been reading too much or staring at my computer screen all day long?”