Secrets: Web of Sin

by Aleatha Romig

  A young man joined us on the sidewalk. “May I help with the luggage?”

  Through the small office and out to the tarmac, Patrick, the young man, and I walked. “Looks like a long trip,” he said, commenting on my bags.

  “Packing light has never been my thing,” I replied as my feet stopped and mouth opened at the sight of the large plane before us. A bird was painted along the side. Unlike its real-life equivalent, the caricature made the creature artistically fierce. With the gray head, white cheeks, and a black bib, it appeared more predator than prey. The open beak covered the very front while its piercing dark eye surrounded the window to the cockpit.

  This wasn’t a for-hire charter. This aircraft belonged to Sparrow.

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Araneae

  Patrick stopped at the bottom of the stairs, motioning me upward. Each step was harder than the one before. As my stomach twisted, I decided finding a restroom was my first priority before we took off. What little breakfast I’d eaten many hours ago was moving precariously upward as the taste of bile bubbled in my throat.

  “Welcome, Ms. Hawkins,” a woman in uniform said as I stepped inside away from the sunshine. “I’m your pilot today, Marianne McGee.” She lifted her hand to the right, away from the cockpit. “This is Jana and Keaton, your attendants for today’s flight.”

  “Hello,” the two said in unison.

  I barely heard them as I took in the opulence of the aircraft.

  It was nothing like the one I’d flown on before. There was a shiny round table, large by any standard, with six seats as well as two along the side facing one another. Beyond the table was a wall with openings on either side.

  As I gazed the direction she’d pointed, Jana spoke, “May I show you around?”

  Swallowing the bad taste, I nodded, afraid to open my lips.

  Walking a step behind, I followed her as we passed through the opening that led to what appeared to be a living room or perhaps a theater room. I turned, seeing the large screened television on the wall we’d passed.

  “The first area is where Mr. Sparrow conducts work and conferences when flying with his employees or clients. In this area...” She waved her hand. “...he relaxes or teleconferences. Beyond is a bedroom, bathrooms, and a small kitchen.”

  “It’s...” I shook my head. “I don’t seem to have words.”

  Jana smiled. “Mr. Sparrow travels frequently and prefers to do it in comfort. I’ll say he works more than he sleeps, but the bedroom is there if you’d like to rest.”

  “I think I’d like to find one of the restrooms.”

  She nodded. “Follow me. And after you’re settled, let me know what we can bring you.” She pointed to a keypad and screen on the wall. “You can reach us there.”

  I turned a circle. “Where will you be?”

  “Out of sight. There’s an area off the kitchen.”

  “Ms. Hawkins.”

  I turned to the sound of Patrick’s voice. “Yes?”

  “Would you like any of your luggage in the main cabin?”

  “I-I...my carry-on, please.”

  He nodded and turned away.

  Jana’s hand landed on my arm and her smile grew. “I believe the gift on the bed is for you as well.”

  My stomach knotted as I feigned a smile.

  I wasn’t up for another empty box or veiled threat. I was here. What more did he want?

  My first stop was the bathroom. While not large—I’m in a damn airplane—it was regal, complete with a golden faucet in the sink and lever on the commode.

  I leaned on the edge of the sink and stared into the lit mirror. My brown eyes gazed back at me as the color drained from my cheeks. “This isn’t good,” I said softly yet audibly. “Normal people don’t own a plane like this. Fuck that. Normal people don’t own planes. There’s more to this man than you know. You may have been named after a spider, but never forget, birds eat spiders.”

  That thought was the last straw as my head grew heavy, the small room blurred, and my legs turned to jelly. Falling to my knees, I managed to get my head over the commode as the bile I’d been fighting won the battle. I should have eaten lunch. My empty stomach contracted as I spat the nasty-tasting liquid, emptying the contents of my mouth. Closing my eyes, my body shivered as I laid my head down, my arms resting upon the toilet seat—my pillow.

  Time passed, but I wasn’t sure how much or how long until a knock on the door caused me to open my eyes.

  “Ms. Hawkins, Marianne has completed her checklist. She’s ready to take off if you are?”

  On shaky legs, I stood. Surprisingly, my reflection looked better. Though my makeup was smudged and hair tousled, there was once again natural color in my cheeks.

  Was I ready?

  Could I say I wasn’t? Could I get off this plane?

  Cupping some water into my hand, I rinsed my mouth. Another splash on my cheeks and I wiped the dark mascara smudges from beneath my eyes. After smoothing my skirt, I took a deep breath and opened the door to Jana’s smiling face. I peered over her shoulder toward the front of the plane. From the angle and distance, it was difficult to see into the table room. Nevertheless, I could see that the door to the outside was already closed. My escape route was gone.

  I inhaled and exhaled in submission. “Where should I sit?”

  “That’s up to you. Your carry-on is in the bedroom. However, for takeoff and landing, you must be seat-belted.”

  I made my way to one of the theater-like chairs facing the large television and sat.

  “May I bring you a drink?”

  I thought how wonderful it would be to have wine or perhaps a martini. Would she have whatever I ordered? By my surroundings, I was certain she would. Patrick could deliver me to Sterling Sparrow passed-out drunk. That would show him.

  Then again, the thought left me with a sinking feeling. It would be better to have my faculties about me when we met again. I looked up at Jana’s expectant expression. Oh, that’s right; she wanted me to answer her question. “Water would be nice.”

  “As soon as Marianne clears me to walk around, I’ll bring you some. Ice?”

  “Just a bottle is fine.”

  “Have a nice flight, Ms. Hawkins. And don’t forget your gift.”

  My gift.

  Another empty box or a threat?

  Who was left for him to threaten?

  My gift could wait.

  Whether it was Marianne’s skills or the plane itself, I barely noticed the smooth takeoff as we left the ground and glided through the air. Soft white clouds appeared out the window as we flew through them and above. Blue sky shone with the evening sun’s rays. A few moments later, Jana appeared with my water as well as a plate of cheese and fruit. Though I didn’t want to accept, my empty stomach churned and grumbled, telling me that food was welcomed.

  “Would you like to watch a movie or listen to music?”

  “Music would be nice.” My voice was barely my own as I obediently answered, returning her kindness. Was it kindness? Did she know she was transporting someone against her will?

  Yet it wasn’t.

  Sterling Sparrow had orchestrated the whole thing. He wasn’t kidnapping me—not technically. I had willingly packed my belongings. I’d walked to the car and been driven without complaint. I’d climbed the stairway entering this gilded cage and played the agreeable participant.

  If Jana or even Patrick would ever be questioned, they could honestly say I’d traveled willingly.

  Soft music filled the air. At first, I was surprised by the selection; it was one from my work playlist. And then so was the second. I reached for my phone. It was still with me. How did he continue to know so much about me?

  My nerves pulled tighter with each mile. Alone in the cabin, I had time to allow my mind to wander. I tried to concentrate on the music, yet with each note, all I could do was contemplate my questions and worries. I looked about, wondering where Jana, Keaton, and Patrick wer
e. Shouldn’t I at least be able to hear them? It wasn’t like they could go far.

  With my water gone and most of the food consumed, I settled back and continued listening to the familiar songs. Though I knew them all by heart, my mind didn’t register the lyrics. More questions came, each one more imperative than the one before.

  What would happen when we landed? Would I have my own room? Why had he even mentioned that? What did he expect? My gut told me I knew the answer to that question. He had been very direct about what he expected—sex.

  What did that make me? Was I his whore, girlfriend, or fiancée?

  I’d been promised to him.

  For what?

  To be his wife?

  The cheese and fruit stewed and churned with each question. And then I recalled what Jana had said: Don’t forget your gift.

  My head said not to go in the bedroom, to stay where I was. “Don’t go,” I said softly in the lonely cabin. Yes, I could talk to myself. There was no one else to talk to, making even my own voice comforting. I could use the box on the wall and call Jana. Maybe she’d tell me more about Mr. Sparrow.

  I realized she’d been the first person to willingly give me information: he traveled frequently. He spent more time working than resting. He transported clients and employees. Maybe she could tell me who he really was.

  My fingers found their way to the buckle, undoing my seat belt as I stood.

  I eyed the panel on the wall, but that wasn’t where my feet were taking me.

  How in the hell did Sterling expect me to follow his directions when I couldn’t even follow my own?

  Steely determination mixed with unhealthy curiosity pushed me toward the aft of the plane. To the left was the hallway that contained the bathroom where I’d vomited. Farther down was another door, but something told me that wasn’t where I wanted to go. The length of the wall to the right of the hallway made me think there was the bedroom. Slowly, I turned the handle on the door to whatever was beyond the wall.

  I was right.

  As the door pushed inward, I took in the room complete with a king-sized bed. A fucking giant king-sized bed on an airplane. Ignoring the large gift box on the bed, I opened a sliding door to a mostly empty closet. There was a suit hanging inside along with a white shirt. I lifted an arm to my nose, inhaling the spicy cologne. Quickly I dropped the material and closed the sliding door. There was one more door. I opened it to a second bathroom, complete with a shower.

  Of course. Every airplane needs a private en suite bathroom.

  For some reason I recalled a television show called Pimp My Ride or was it Truck? The point was that truckers made the personal area of their semi-trucks amazing. Most had bedrooms, but I remembered one with a pinball machine. In a truck.

  That was how I felt in this plane. It was as if Sterling had instructed someone to pimp his plane with the best and most outlandish accessories. I half giggled, wondering if I searched long enough, I’d find a pinball machine.

  Taking a deep breath, I went to the bed and sat on the edge. The mattress was unusually high. The cover was plush beneath my touch as I stared at the gift. This box was black and the bow was white and black. I recognized the Saks Fifth Avenue packaging. They were one of Sinful Threads’ distributors.

  Untying the bow, I lifted the lid and pushed back the tissue paper.

  A gasp came from my lips.

  This box wasn’t empty.

  The small card atop the contents had Araneae on the outside of the envelope.

  Before opening the note, I reached into the depths and removed a spectacular dress. It was a deep ruby red, and judging by the designer label, it cost more than anything Sinful Threads sold, and we priced our merchandise high.

  Sheer, silky thigh-high stockings were held together by another black and white bow. And at the end of the long box were two smaller boxes. Inside the larger one was a stunning pair of Saint Laurent red patent-leather sandals. I didn’t need to read the sole to know the brand. The sandals had the signature logo heel that was at least four inches high. I opened the smallest box to a long platinum necklace and dangling diamond earrings.

  Lifting one of the earrings from the velvet box, I inspected the quality.

  Surely these weren’t real?

  Right, Kennedy. Saint Laurent shoes and cubic zirconia earrings. Damn, if they were, he’d dropped some serious money on this outfit. But from the looks of the plane, serious money wasn’t an issue.

  He must sell a lot of real estate.

  My hands shook as I reached for and opened the envelope.

  * * *

  Araneae,

  In this box you’ll find the wrapping for my delivery. The bathroom has been supplied with everything you’ll need to prepare yourself.

  As with any gift, I am counting the minutes until I can tear the wrapping away and reveal what is mine.

  Sterling

  * * *

  Was I going to do this?

  As panic and uncertainty flooded my circulation, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my skirt. We’d been in the air for over an hour and a half. How much time did I have? Why hadn’t I opened this sooner?

  I rushed into the bathroom and began opening drawers. They were filled with cosmetics—all high-end. In the shower were shampoos and conditioner as well as perfumed soaps and lotions. I opened more drawers to other items: brushes, combs, hairdryer, curling wand, straightener, and even a razor.

  Was that for my legs or somewhere else?

  Oh hell no.

  I’m a real blonde, and I had no intention of erasing the evidence.

  I stared at the supplies. There was no way I had enough time to do whatever he wanted me to do.

  Did I even want to?

  I didn’t.

  Then again, if my goal was to obtain information from Mr. Sparrow, was it smart to begin this deal by disobeying his instructions?

  What had he said about my library research? While technically not a direct violation of what you’d been told, should warrant reprimand. Again, reprimand? What did that mean?

  As my heart pounded, I went back to the bedroom. On the wall was another panel like the one in the main cabin. I pushed the intercom.

  “Yes, this is Keaton. May I help you?”

  “Um, this is Kennedy...Ms. Hawkins.” No shit. He knew who I was.

  “Yes, Ms. Hawkins. May I help you with something?”

  “I was wondering how much time I have until we land.”

  “You will need to be seated in fifty-seven minutes. We will land in sixty-eight.”

  Well, that seemed rather precise.

  “Is there any bad weather expected?” I didn’t want to be in a shower with a razor and hit an air pocket or some terrible turbulence.

  “No, ma’am. The captain plans on a continued smooth flight.”

  Less than forty minutes later, freshly showered, teeth brushed, made-up, and wrapped in a sinfully plush towel, I approached the bed where I’d left the contents of the box. Suspiciously missing from the collection were underclothes. I wouldn’t need a bra or even be able to wear one with the dress’s plunging neckline, but panties seemed like a good plan.

  It was then that I recalled my carry-on bag. I looked around. Jana had said it was in the bedroom. I hadn’t noticed it before on a stand against the wall. I said a silent thank-you for my traveling routines. Whenever I traveled overnight, especially if my baggage was checked, which is what I’d expected, I also packed a small nylon bag within my carry-on that contained essentials—a toothbrush, underwear, and pajamas. I’d never needed them until now.

  The dress fit like a glove, the bodice tight around my breasts and ribs as the skirt flared at my hips. The coolness of the platinum necklace chilled my skin as it fell between the swell of my breasts and I secured the earrings in place. One by one, I slipped my feet into the heeled sandals.

  I stood motionless in front of a full-length mirror. My reflection was different than it had been when I arrived, and while I didn�
��t like the reason for what I’d done—it felt too much like submission—I nevertheless looked good. The person in the mirror was the woman Louisa always said I could be.

  No, I was the person who would take Mr. Sterling Sparrow to his knees.

  “Okay, Mr. Sparrow. I complied. Now it’s your turn.” I don’t think I said it aloud, but I may have.

  I reached out to the wall, my first step in the tall heels a bit wobbly. “Come on, Kenni. You’re not going to seduce him if you fall on your face.” I took another step and then another. By the time I made it back out into the cabin area and to my seat, I was as steady as the luxurious airplane.

  “Ms. Hawkins,” Jana said, coming from behind. As soon as she saw me, she smiled. “You look lovely.”

  That should have made me feel good—that’s how normal people react to a compliment. Yet it didn’t. I’d done as he said—cleaned myself, brushed my teeth, shaved my legs, styled, and basically prepared myself as a sacrifice for slaughter. I couldn’t think about that. I had to stay strong.

  “Thank you, Jana,” I managed.

  “I was asked to inform you that after we land, Patrick will pull the car onto the tarmac. After your luggage is loaded into the car, you will be ready to go. Before we land, may I get you anything?”

  “Do you have whiskey?” I wasn’t sure where the question came from. Perhaps it was my subconscious knowing I needed some liquid confidence to carry on, to be “ready to go.”

  Her cheeks rose. “On the rocks?”

  “Straight.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As she started to walk away, an image of Sparrow’s dark eyes materialized in my mind. “Make it a double,” I called as I secured my seat belt.

  The amber liquid burned for only a second before numbing my throat as its potent effect slowed my rapid pulse and warmed my circulation.

  “You can do this,” I said aloud, getting quite used to talking audibly to myself.

  I wasn’t certain what made me do it—a sense, a feeling, a presence…

  I looked up to the doorway beside the television and sucked in a breath. The previously open space was now filled with his broad shoulders and height. Like the image I’d had, he’d materialized. Yet he wasn’t an apparition. The mountain of a man was real.