30DaystoSyn

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  She took a deep breath. “Yes Sir.”

  “And you will abide by my rules?”

  She frowned. “That depends on the rules,” she replied.

  “Fair enough,” he said.

  He leaned forward in chair. “From this moment forward you will not speak unless you are asked a direct question and then you are to answer either yes sir or no sir. If I require a longer answer, you will be told. If I want your opinion I will ask you to make an observation. You will do what you are told, when you are told and how you are told to do it. There will be no crying and there will be no hesitation on your part. I assure you there will be none on mine. You are to look me directly in the eyes at all times. No matter what is happening to your body or mine, your gaze is not to waver. If you can live with these stipulations either nod or shake your head.”

  She slowly nodded.

  “All right,” he said and seemed to be relieved that she had agreed. “Within the next few days I will call you with the time when we will meet. You are to be on time each night. If you are not, you will find the deadbolt engaged and our arrangement will cease at that moment.”

  He stretched out his leg and fished a hand into the pocket of his pants. He withdrew a key from which dangled a small silver disk. He put the key on the desk and flicked it toward her across the sleek top. She snaked out a hand to cover the key before it could slide off the edge.

  “That is the key to the room you will enter. Do not lose it, you’ll not be given another. When I phone you, I will give you instructions on what—if anything—you need to do to prepare for our session. You are to ask no questions. All I want to hear from you is hello. Is that clear?”

  Once again she nodded.

  “Upon arrival—not a minute before the appointed hour nor a minute past that hour, you are to enter the room with your key. On the floor you will find a mark. You are to stand on that mark and await further instructions. Is that clear?”

  She nodded, feeling her heart racing in her chest.

  “At the end of each session, you will be told to leave. You will do so immediately without hesitation. Are we clear on that point?”

  She indicated she was.

  “Now, if you can live with those rules, you may leave now.”

  Feeling as though she had placed her life into his hands, she got to her feet. He sat where he was as he watched her without blinking. She felt snared in the trap of his bold blue gaze and it was all she could do to tear her attention from him. As she walked to the door, she could feel the heat of his stare boring into her back. Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob.

  “Melina?”

  She looked around to find him standing behind his desk with his doubled fists braced on the top. She did not speak.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “That is my solemn vow to you but don’t lose your virginity between now and the end of our time together. I would know. After putting in the time I intend to take with you, I would not be pleased to discover you aren’t as I need you to be. I would be irritated to learn what I am paying an unseemly amount of money for isn’t in the pristine shape I expect it to be. I don’t like damaged goods. Used items are worthless to me. Then there’s the fact that I am a greedy man and when something is snatched from my grasp, I get very angry. You really don’t want to see me angry, Melina.”

  She licked her dry lips, saw his eyes lower to her mouth before flicking back to hers. She nodded and opened the door. All the way to the elevator she felt as though he was watching her though the door between them was firmly closed. She pressed the button and the doors to the cage slid silently apart. She stepped inside, pushed the first floor button and felt her legs grow weak. She grabbed the safety bar and clung to it as though it were a lifeline.

  His head was lowered as he stared at the computer screen embedded in the top of his desk. The moment the door closed behind her, he reached under the desk to press the button that slid the covering panel from the screen. He watched her as she stood at the elevator and he saw the exact moment she steadied herself inside it.

  A slow, wolfish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “Baby, I’m going to rock your world so you better brace yourself,” he whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Night One

  Lina sat staring at the telephone in her apartment, waiting for it to ring. She was still amazed both that bill, as well as the utility bill was being paid for her every month. Neither the phone nor utility company would or could tell her who was shelling out the money to make sure the services weren’t disconnected. Even her cable and internet services had been turned back on and paid for a year in advance. To her complete astonishment, she now had every available premium channel and the highest internet connection speed to be had.

  She knew who was responsible for such luxuries.

  He’d called once to tell her their sessions would be delayed for a while. He was returning to New Zealand but would return by the end of October. He had instructed her to be home every evening from October twenty-seventh on.

  Getting up to pace, she kept eyeing the phone, willing it to chirp. Her palms were sweaty again and she rubbed them down the side seams of her jeans. The waiting was wearing on her nerves and every little sound made her jump. She had a bad case of indigestion and a slight headache. She was getting a lot of those lately.

  Tonight would be the night, she thought. It was the first of November and she’d been waiting since September second to hear something from the man to whom she was to hand over her virginity. The longer she waited, the more nervous she was. The day she’d been interviewed by the mysterious stranger she knew only as Sir had begun a countdown that had her tossing and turning every night since. Her performance at work left something to be desired and she had pulled her head in like a turtle every time Rachel suggested they get out and do something.

  “I don’t have the money to spare, Rach,” she’d told her friend and that was true even though three thousand dollars had magically appeared in her bank account a week earlier. It was money she had no intention of touching until after she’d fulfilled her bargain with Sir.

  When the phone rang, she cried out, spinning around to stare at it with wide eyes. Her heart lurched in her chest and the lump in her throat threatened to cut off her air.

  Of course, she thought as it rang again, it could be Rachel but she knew it wasn’t.

  It was him.

  She knew it was him.

  Steeling herself, she walked slowly to the phone—eying it as though it were a coiled rattler. Her fingers hovered over the receiver until the fifth ring. Her hand shook as she brought the receiver to her ear.

  “Hello?” she all but whispered and when his voice came at her from the other end, she slowly closed her eyes.

  “From now on, you will answer by the third ring, Melina!” he said in a nasty tone. There was a pause as though he expected her to say something. When she didn’t, she could hear him heave a harsh sigh. “The car will pick you up at precisely seven forty-five. You are to be waiting at the curb no later than that time. Between now and then you are to shower, wash and dry your hair but apply no makeup or perfume. Wear your hair loose. Dress in a skirt with pockets and a plain button up blouse, bra and panties only. Sandals with no stockings. Do not bring a purse with you. Bring only the keys to your apartment and the key I gave you. When you arrive at the building, you are to proceed inside immediately. You are to take the elevator to the second floor. The room number is 202. Beside the door is a digital clock. At exactly eight p.m.—not a minute before, not a minute after—you are to insert the key into the lock. Open the door, enter, close the door and engage the deadbolt. Go to the mark on the floor. You cannot miss it.”

  The phone went dead.

  Her mouth dry, palms wet, body trembling, she clutched the phone to her face. There was a lump forming in her throat and a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders. Slowly she turned her eyes to the clock on the kitchen wall. It
was six fifteen. She knew she was about to experience the longest hour and a half of her life.

  He stepped over to the windows, used the backs of his fingers to push aside the drape. A thin sliver of light spilled from the crack. Behind him the Room was dark, bare save for two chairs—one straight back and one overstuffed wingback—a desk upon which sat a closed laptop computer and a cell phone lying at a precise ninety degree angle to the laptop. The straight-back chair sat behind the desk and the overstuffed one was positioned in front of the bank of heavily draped windows. The floor was thickly carpeted and the walls richly paneled in polished oak over cinder blocks. The Room was soundproof. Upon the carpet near the door was a large X made from red duct tape. Above the X was a can spotlight. Another was positioned over the overstuffed chair and another above the desk. Each light was controlled by a small remote nestled in the pocket of his jeans.

  Turning, he slipped his hand in his pocket and activated the spotlight over the X. A bright light fell from the ceiling to encompass an area about two feet in diameter. He walked to the X, stood there surveying the room in all directions, content that once she took her place on the mark, she could see nothing around her.

  He looked down at the fifty-eight thousand dollar watch strapped to his left wrist. The rose-gold perpetual-calendar watch with its alligator band glowed softly when he pushed in the winding stem. The watch was the most expensive thing on his body. The denim jeans had been around since his high school days in Auckland. He had paid three dollars at a secondhand store for the twenty-year-old jeans that now had ragged holes in both knees and were worn so thin in the seat the fabric shone. The black T-shirt worn hanging free of his jeans had set him back another ten from a specialty store. The black jandals—what they called flip-flops in his native New Zealand—had been a gift from his best friend. Worn jeans, T-shirts and jandals were all he ever wore away from the office where custom-made Italian-designer suits, French silk shirts and English handsewn fifteen-hundred dollars-a-pair split-toe shoes were expected. Beneath the jeans he was commando and that was the way he preferred it. The only other thing he wore was his father’s signet ring but he had no idea how much it was worth.

  He looked at his watch again.

  It was 7:50 p.m. She would be there in ten minutes. He thought it might well be the longest ten minutes he’d ever endure.

  He ran his tongue along the edges of his bottom teeth—a nervous habit he had—then walked purposefully to the overstuffed chair. He sat, crossed his right ankle over his left knee, curled his hands over the end of the chair arms and tried to steady his breathing. He was as nervous as a green youth and twice as anxious.

  Sitting in the back of the black sedan, Melina could feel sweat gathering under her arms. Though it was a cool night, she felt overheated. She’d tried to lower the window beside her but the control didn’t work. As soon as she sat down in the backseat, the door locks had engaged and she’d wanted to scream. She was locked inside the vehicle with a strange man she suspected was of Māori descent, headed toward an unknown destination. No one knew where she was or who she was with or who she was meeting. She was completely off the grid.

  “You are to tell no one of our arrangement,” he’d warned her.

  Fear lanced through her like summer lightning and she twisted her hands in her lap.

  “There is no need to worry. You’ll be fine. He is a good man,” the driver said, glancing at her from the rearview mirror. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Miss Wynth.”

  “He didn’t tell me his name,” she said in the hopes the driver would.

  “If he wished you to know it, he would have done so,” the man replied and returned his attention to the road.

  She turned her head to look out the window. She knew she’d get no information from the driver.

  The neighborhood gave way to interstate. Interstate spilled onto a parkway leading into downtown. The parkway handed them off to a side street running parallel to the interstate where one and two-story office parks dotted the landscape. The buildings all looked the same and nothing was familiar so she knew she’d never been there before. As soon as the driver turned between two sections of offices, she saw a black Harley motorcycle parked in front of one building and knew they had arrived at their destination.

  “He’s a biker,” she said.

  “Collects them,” the man replied. He caught her eye in the mirror. “Boys like their toys.”

  She smiled despite her worry and nervousness. “So I’ve heard,” she said.

  He swung the car around so that it was parallel to the sidewalk. He turned off the engine. Opening his door, he went around the back of the car to her door, opened it and held out his hand.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took his hand. It was cool and the grip firm.

  He helped her out of the car then went to the door leading into the office building and held that open for her as well. When she passed him—mumbling her thanks once again—he smiled.

  “He’s a good man,” he repeated. “Just remember that and you’ll be fine.”

  His words did not encourage her or assuage her anxiety. If anything, they increased the disquiet that made her legs feel like rubber as she walked to the elevator. It took courage she didn’t feel to press the Up button. When the doors closed and the cage engaged, she felt her stomach churn.

  “Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” she mumbled. Her Irish grandmother’s incantation against evil came easily from her lips but the sound of her own voice, the names she spoke did not calm her. Instead, they brought guilty shame at what she was there to do. Her gramma would have been appalled at her actions. Her mother would have told her she’d go to hell for sure.

  When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, she stood stock-still. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her breathing was erratic.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure she could cross over the metal threshold. Looking down at her watch, she realized she had only one minute to make up her mind.

  Drew’s dear face flashed before her eyes.

  The matter was settled.

  Holding her breath, she stepped into the hall and looked down a long, carpeted hallway—staring at it as though it were a minefield along which she must make her way. Screwing up the last vestige of bravery, she released a shuddering breath and headed for the door beside which would be a digital clock.

  The room she sought was halfway down the hallway. It stood out like a beacon as she approached it along the brightly lit corridor. Coming to it, she could hear the blood rushing through her ears.

  Room 202.

  The plain metal door with a copper plate reading the room number gleamed from the overhead fluorescent light, from which came a low buzz. The digital clock read 07:59:25 as she fumbled in her pocket for the key he had given her. She was trembling as she put the key to the lock and waited for the clock to count down to 08:00:00. As it did, she thought she’d puke up the food she’d had at lunch. Supper had been out of the question as she prepared herself to meet with him.

  As the digital numbers rolled into place, she twisted the key, took a deep breath and opened the door.

  He tensed as soon as he heard the key being inserted in the lock. His foot had been bouncing against his knee but that stilled as his entire body became rigid with anticipation. The spotlight over the red X lit the sleek glossiness of her hair as she came into the room. Her head was down as she turned to twist the deadbolt into place. He watched her straighten her shoulders, lift her head. It only took her two steps to enter the spotlight to stand on the mark.

  He said nothing as he watched her eyes shift nervously around the room. Her hands were curled into fists at her side as though she expected someone to pounce on her and beat her to the floor. Her chin trembled but she held her ground.

  Five minutes passed.

  Ten.

  She was beginning to fidget. He saw her lips part several times and knew she wanted to speak but that was forbidde
n. He held his breath each time she seemed about to say something. When she didn’t, he realized she wouldn’t and began to relax. He desperately wanted her to obey the rules. He wanted the sessions to go to the very end. He wanted her more than he had any other woman.

  Fifteen minutes slipped by then he gave his command in a soft, firm voice.

  “You may leave now.”

  He saw her flinch, her lips part in surprise. This time he was sure she would speak but she didn’t. Instead, she turned, disengaged the deadbolt and exited without a sound. The door had barely closed before he was up and at the desk, flipping open the laptop, sliding his fingertips across the sensor to bring the screen into play.

  The screen was divided into four quadrants. One quadrant showed the outside entrance of the building. The second showed the door to Room 202. The third held a view of the elevator doors and whoever might be standing there and the fourth was inside the cage, revealing its passenger. He watched her enter the elevator.

  Shock.

  Hurt.

  Wounded pride.

  Worry that he’d found her somehow unworthy of his attention and was now going to end the deal before it ever began.

  Tears filled her eyes as she stabbed blindly at the Down button.

  She hadn’t even been sure he was in the room. He’d been as quiet as a church mouse.

  Or a leering perverted Peeping Tom.

  Knowing he had been somewhere in the room staring at her, judging her, evaluating her without so much as a sign that he was doing so unnerved her. His low voice had scared her. His command that she leave stung.

  What now? She wondered. Would the car be waiting or would she need to make her own way home? The thought of walking the streets of a place she didn’t know in the middle of the night without a cell phone or her purse was frightening. Horrible images filled her head and she began to sob.

  “The car will be waiting for you.”

  She jerked her head up at the sound of his voice.