by Piper Stone
And he’d been taken from me. What was the last gift I’d given him? Humiliation.
I closed my eyes, trying to shove away the despair. I was all alone.
When Stephen finally sat down, in addition to his briefcase, he had a folder in his hand. His expression was stoic, a sneer on his lips. What was going on?
“Is something wrong?” I whispered.
“Not necessarily. Ms. Toro, there might be a way for you to remain out of prison, but you’re going to need to decide within minutes.”
“What are you talking about?”
Before he had a chance to answer, the door behind the bench opened, the judge walking in.
“All rise.”
I was lightheaded, my eyes still locked on the folder. Stephen had assured me there was no possibility the judge would let me go with just probation, the recommended sentence six to twelve years for a crime I didn’t commit. I was nothing more than a scapegoat. My world was swirling, my mind unable to understand what Stephen could mean.
“This court is now in session, the honorable Judge Michael Taylor presiding.”
I heard the words of the bailiff, but his voice echoed, matching the hard hammering of my heart.
“Sit down,” Stephen hissed, finally forced to grip my arm and yank. “Don’t say anything yet.”
What the hell could I say? If there was a chance to remain out of prison, I would listen to the man my father had trusted. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend years behind bars. Tears threatened to form, giving away just how terrified I actually was.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
The judge smacked his gavel, shifting his harsh gaze in my direction. “We are here for the formal sentencing of Ms. Alessandra Elizabeth Toro for attempted murder.”
No. God. I’m innocent! Please. Please...
“Judge Taylor. I’m sorry to interrupt but may I approach the bench? I have some information that may alter the outcome of your decision.” Stephen rose halfway from his chair, his look conciliatory.
Judge Taylor hissed through clenched teeth then nodded once. “Make it quick, counselor.”
“Yes, sir.” Stephen said nothing to me before walking in front of the judge, the file firmly clutched in his hand. Whatever they were discussing was in whispered words.
I stole a quick glance as the main door just as another bystander hungry to see justice served walked in. The older man I’d seen with Stephen was waiting in the hallway. My nerves were on edge, claws of terror digging into my neck.
As the judge took the file, flipping through several pages, I felt a wave of nausea. When Judge Taylor glared at me again, I could tell me was sizing me up, seeing if I was worth whatever was the offer on the table. I’d never felt so small, so damn insignificant in my life.
He closed the file, whispering only a few words, obviously dismissing Stephen before motioning for the bailiff for another hushed conversation.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the bailiff stated. “The court will take a five-minute recess.”
Stephen sat down, fingering the file before turning toward me. “We only have a few minutes. You need to listen to me and you’re going to have to make a very tough decision in a short period of time. Do you think you can do that?”
“What are we talking about?” I wanted to rip the goddamn file out of his hands.
“I already told you that since you’ve been found guilty, there is absolutely no chance to avoid spending years in prison. There’s just too much evidence against you.”
Bullshit. Bullshit!
I leaned forward, clenching my hands together. “Except?”
“For a deal that was just presented to me.” Given his tense body language, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with what he was prepared to offer. What difference did it make as long as it gave me time to incriminate the asshole who’d been responsible for shattering my world?
“If there’s a way to exonerate myself, I’m going to take it, no matter what it is.”
Stephen took a deep breath, sliding the file in my direction but keeping his palm firmly planted on top. “I’m sorry, Alessandra, this isn’t about proving your innocence. You need to understand that clearly.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?”
“Penance.”
“Isn’t that what a prison sentence is all about?” The way he muttered the word, rolling the two syllables across his tongue in a husky voice insinuated dark and dangerous punishment.
He released his hold. “This is a very... unusual offer, but I respect the people involved.”
“Who are they?” He respected them. Was that supposed to make me more comfortable?
“As I said, you have about three minutes to make your decision. This won’t be offered a second time. I assure you that if you accept the contract, you will never spend a day in a state-run prison cell. However, the terms are very strict, including your level of employment.”
Employment. Penance. The two words didn’t work within the same contract. “You think I should do this?” I searched his eyes for even a glimpse of an answer. As usual, they were cold and all about business. This was crazy. Who would offer a last-minute deal and why would the judge even consider it?
“This is entirely your choice to make; however, if you want my professional opinion, I see no other options for you. I also believe this is what your father would want you to do. The party involved was your father’s employer.”
Jesus. He was pulling out all the cards.
A trickle of fear slid down my spine, but what the hell choice did I have? Maybe this would be okay. Maybe his employer believed in me like my father did. I couldn’t even remember anything about who they were, my father never mentioning more than a few words about his work. My mind was muddled, trying to remember any details. What could I do? Even if I filed an appeal, that could take two years. While my father had obviously paid Stephen well, I had nothing to my name including money, which meant zero incentives to push to prove my innocence. I slowly pulled the file closer, holding my breath as I opened it.
Within only a few seconds of reading, all sounds were shoved into a vacuum, my vision cloudy. The terms weren’t merely strict. They were ridiculous.
Harsh.
Permanent.
Unforgiving.
And there was no other choice.
“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to make your decision,” Stephen encouraged, pushing a ballpoint pen in my direction.
My eyes were heavy, my mind shifting to memories of the wonderful life I’d had before. I couldn’t feel the pen in my hand, although I knew I’d picked it up. As I scribbled my name onto the appropriate pages, the judge walked back in from his chambers. The moment I shifted the file in Stephen’s direction, I could no longer remember the majority of details. However, I knew one thing, the most important aspect of the blasphemous contract.
I’d signed away not only my soul to a complete stranger.
I’d sold my body as well.
* * *
Everything was a blur from signing various forms to being allowed to change into my old clothes instead of the horrible orange jumpsuit. Stephen had said almost nothing else, other than praising me for a ‘job well done.’ I couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d been paid to encourage me to accept. Even his friendly handshake with the attorney for the other party represented on the contract indicated a decision made by the ‘old boys’ club,’ as my father would call it.
I stood in a small room, waiting for instructions, trying to keep my shit together. I could still hear the angry shouts of those disgusted that a deal had been made. When the dark-haired man next to Stephen turned in my direction, I concentrated on the flecks of gray mixed in at his temples. I would like to say he was a handsome man except there was no light in his eyes. He walked closer, an echo of his actions pounding in my ears.
“Ms. Toro, my name is Jefferson Williams. I am Gabriel Masters’ attorney.” There was no handshake, no smile, only arroganc
e. He gazed all the way down the length of me before taking a deep breath. “I’ll be taking you to where you’ll be staying. You are to say nothing to the reporters or anyone else about the contract. Am I clear?”
“Uh-huh,” I managed. “Where are you taking me?” Deal or no deal, I wanted to learn the details of what I’d agreed to. What kind of person wanted to hire me and why? Didn’t Mr. Masters know I was supposed to be a killer? I bit back a moan, my entire body aching. The name sounded only vaguely familiar.
“Somewhere safe.” He seemed annoyed at my question, as if I no longer had the right to ask anything.
“What kind of work will I be doing?”
The single flash in his eyes gave me a series of shivers. Was this even about a job of any kind?
“Will I be able to meet Mr. Masters?” I dared to ask. I’d barely noticed and certainly hadn’t recognized the name of the man who was responsible for freeing me before signing mine. Why were all the words a sudden blur? What did this stranger expect me to do? What kind of punishments?
Oh, God. What had I done?
“In due time,” he said as he checked his watch. “We need to get going. Mr. Masters does not accept tardiness. You will be compliant. Put this on and cover your face as much as possible.”
The scarf in his hand would do little to hide me from the gawkers.
The pompous man couldn’t hide his disdain for my presence, or the fact he’d been required to deal with me. A wave of understanding settled in. I’d given up far too many rights.
“No. I can’t do this. I don’t want this anymore.”
I didn’t expect his hand to wrap around my forearm or for the man to jerk me so close to him that I was able to gather a whiff of the stale coffee on his breath. He peered down at me, his eyes even darker than I’d noticed before. “The contract you signed was very clear, Ms. Toro. You gave up your right of choice the moment you signed your name. Now I was hoping the ride could be pleasant, but if you insist on being uncooperative, I will have no choice but to provide your first lesson in conforming. Do I make myself clear? Put the scarf around your head and face. Now.”
“Conforming?” Shivering, I did as I was told, wrapping my head with the scarf.
“I believe you understand the word. Do I have your promise that you will be a good girl during the ride?”
I nodded, unable to put a coherent sentence together.
As he led me out of the courtroom, I was unable to drown out the nasty shouts and accusations, reporters trying desperately to get to me. Two hulking men stopped every one of them, shoving them out of our way before opening the passenger door of a vehicle.
The butterflies remained in my stomach as I was pushed inside a sleek black Mercedes, required to ride in back. I was shocked the man with the five-thousand-dollar suit didn’t have a chauffeur of his own. I studied him after one of the other men had closed the door, taking a moment to press his hands down the length of his straitlaced jacket. Jefferson was stiff, his hair neatly trimmed and his shoes perfectly polished.
He spoke briefly with the two men, easily ignoring the continued shouts.
I’d never felt so waiflike in my life in my well-worn blue jeans and scuffed boots. While I certainly hadn’t grown up poor, my father had insisted on living within our means, savoring the small things in life. I’d adhered to that way of life. My belongings weren’t worth much, but they meant a great deal to me.
He’d loved being an accountant, working closely with numbers. If only I’d asked him more questions.
I settled into the seat, trying to catch my breath.
Just the scent of the rich leather interior was intoxicating. I was obviously way out of my league wherever I was going. He said nothing as he climbed inside or as he glanced into the rearview mirror.
As he drove away from the courthouse facilities, I peered out the window, marveling at the incredible blue sky and white puffy clouds. Even the mountains in the distance were breathtaking. I still couldn’t believe I’d been framed. Nothing could have prepared me for the ugly betrayal. I wanted nothing more than to be angry, vengeful against someone I’d believed to be my friend, but I was far too exhausted from worry and fear.
Now at least I had a chance to right the wrong.
Why wasn’t Jefferson talking, sharing any information?
I stared out the back window at the horde of reporters, a lump remaining in my throat. I’d never be considered innocent, able to walk down the street of my own city without fear of reprimand.
Or worse.
“May I ask where you’re taking me?” My voice held an air of defiance, as if I had any right to be angry or even frustrated. I’d been freed from the bowels of hell, for God’s sake.
“To Mr. Masters’ estate. You will be well provided for once there. As long as you obey.”
I’d seen the word obedience in the body of the contract more than once. I’d read there were rules that must be followed, levels of training provided, although there’d been no details. There were so many questions in my mind as I attempted to think about what I’d skimmed on the contract.
“Can you tell me anything about what is expected? I would like to have a copy of the contract I signed.”
His dark eyes shifted to the rearview mirror once again, studying me. I could swear there was amusement in them. “While you had ample time to read over the contract, I’m certain Mr. Masters will explain his requirements when appropriate. I will make certain you have a copy for your records; however, the terms were agreed upon and no additional changes can be made. I had hoped your attorney would have explained that to you.”
Everything was so formal.
“It wasn’t like we had any real time to discuss much of anything,” I retorted, trying to bite back my nasty demeanor. He was just the messenger after all.
“While that is unfortunate, it doesn’t change the outcome. You should consider yourself lucky, Ms. Toro. Mr. Rivers’ family is very influential in this town. Another reason for you to remain obedient at all times. Mr. Masters is very precise with his decisions when he acquires property, so you will be cared for.”
Property. I folded my arms, turning away, my entire body shaking. That’s exactly what I was, a mysterious stranger’s property.
I leaned back against the headrest, closing my eyes, the lull of the motor creating a series of vibrations. A single tear trickled down my cheek and I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. If only I’d made better choices in friends. If only I hadn’t been coerced into going to the bar. If only I’d run away. If only...
The darkness was too tempting to resist.
“Ms. Toro. You should wake up now.”
The husky voice was jarring. I snapped open my eyes, almost gasping for air. As the realization of where I was created a tenuous hold, I was shaken by what I was seeing. The ornate iron gates slowly opening were flanked by massive stone columns, a dense forest on either side. I was still able to see the mountains, but they appeared so much closer, allowing me to catch a glimpse of their snowcapped peaks. How long had I been asleep?
Jefferson gave an approving nod, those same eyes holding no inflection. He drove past the entrance feature, the road winding through a pocket of the most incredible and perfectly aligned trees. A full two minutes later, the estate he’d mentioned came into view.
“Oh, my God.” The whisper tumbled from my mouth before I could stop it. I’d never seen any structure as magnificent as the sprawling three-story home that seemed to follow the rolling landscape almost exactly in line with the bank of rocks and boulders. Water cascaded through the stones, tumbling toward a circular lake. Just beyond there was gorgeous emerald grass, manicured to perfection.
There were at least six chimneys and several outdoor terraces, the dozens of floor-to-ceiling windows only adding to the posh ambiance. In the distance I could see various outbuildings as well as additional acres of rolling green grass, everything surrounded by the mountains. There had to be no less than twenty-five thousand squar
e feet in the main house. Who lived like this?
“Yes, it is impressive, isn’t it?” Jefferson pulled into a four-bay garage, immediately cutting the engine. He wasted no time in escorting me out, his grip on my arm firm as he pulled me toward one of the exterior doors. Before going inside, I was able to catch a glimpse of a more utilitarian-style underground garage facility, a solid ten additional yet less expensive vehicles parked in a neat little row.
A realization hit me. The area was for the hired help.
I had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain, I would read every single word of the contract over several times.
He led me through the glorious estate, allowing me to catch mere glimpses of the stunning commercial kitchen, a living room larger than the house my father had owned, the setting complete with an eight-foot curved staircase, and the spectacular verandas leading to a series of pools.
He continued walking, moving past beautifully decorated rooms. Living rooms. Family rooms. Game rooms. There was even a second kitchen.
This was like drifting into a fantasy.
Only I knew better.
I’d fallen down a rabbit hole, one with no escape.
I’d spent my entire life longing to be someone else; a movie star or a fairy princess, a fashion model or a famous astronaut. Instead, I’d turned out to be the girl next door with a possible career in finance and a penchant for chocolate and Doritos. There was nothing glamorous about my world. There was only hard work and dedication, requirements my father had instilled from the time I was a child.
Now this.
I couldn’t help but feel a little like Alice in Wonderland.
Only I still felt the chains that had been wrapped around me from the moment I’d been arrested. I would never rid myself of the sickening feeling or the harsh flashing lights that would forever burn into the back of my mind.
“Ms. Toro, you’re under the arrest for attempted murder. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”
The words were all a blur, much like the moments leading up to the horrific event.
“Wait here,” Jefferson commanded, literally pointing to a spot on the floor outside a set of wooden doors, the dark stain just as foreboding as the section of house he’d taken me into. All the furniture I’d seen was leather, coffee and end tables carved from some precious wood. Even the draperies in several of the rooms were oppressive with thick material, as if Mr. Masters wanted nothing more than to block out the light.
