Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(34)

She smiled, dropping her arms to clap. “Super. Now, have a shower and dress so we can begin the day.” Her eyes dropped to my dirty sweater.

I hated the pleasure beaming in her eyes, all because I agreed to give Q a chance. She bounced with happiness because I allowed the horrible new existence to rule my life. Terror iced my spine. Why her vested interest? Mental note: never let my guard down around her. Whatever I said would most likely get back to Q.

“I don’t have anything else to wear.”

Suzette clucked her tongue, striding toward the free standing wardrobe. “You obviously haven’t looked at what Q bought for you.”

Q bought me clothes? Creepy bastard. First, he forced me to admit I belonged to him, then expected to dress me like a Barbie doll.

I climbed off the bed and looked over Suzette’s shoulder. She was shorter, but her personality made up for her pigmy stature. She pulled out a gorgeous slinky, silver gown with diamantes across the bodice. “Fantastique, this would look amazing on you.”

I snorted, forgetting for a moment where I lived and indulged in talking clothes with another female. “There’s no way I would wear that.” I shuddered to think of the elegant material whispering over skin, enticing men’s attention—Q’s attention.

Reaching over, I grabbed a pair of fitted jeans and knitted cream sweater. They were the least blingy clothes available, but screamed designer and money.

“These will do.” I cuddled them, anxious to change the Mexican sweater-dress for new clothes.

She shook her head, giggling. “If you’re trying to hide your figure so Q doesn’t want you, it will never work. You don’t know him like I do. He’s… different around you.”

My heart swooped and stomach rolled. I hated her tone—the almost maternal love in her voice. What did she mean, different? Perhaps he wasn’t normally a horny bastard—just my luck to bring out that side of him.

Before I could ask, she brushed past and hovered by the door. “Come down when you’re done. I’ll give you some privacy.” With a kind smile, she shut the door, leaving me with my thoughts.

Not wanting to be alone to wallow, I quickly grabbed a white lacy bra, and matching knickers, and headed to the bathroom. Funny how, over a week ago, I dressed in expensive purple lingerie in the hope to catch Brax’s eye. Now, I wanted a sack to hide in.

The shower helped settle my nerves somewhat. I should’ve taken one last night after Q manhandled me, but the thought of being naked in the house, with him lurking somewhere… well, I couldn’t do it. I’d rather reek—maybe he’d be repelled.

But showering in the daytime made me comfortable. Q seemed to leave during the day, and for that, I was thankful. I had alone time—away from his prying fingers and eager mouth.

Once dressed, I headed downstairs and found Suzette in the lounge. The weak winter sun shone patches of brightness on the white carpet like golden pools. Everything about the house looked as if it belonged in a waxworks or museum. Too perfect. Too neat. Where was the haphazardness of life: the pair of shoes by the door, a dirty glass on the coffee table? It was sterile.

I ached for home with Brax. The roughness, the texture, but most of all the happiness. I’d never find happiness here. Perhaps Suzette was right. Maybe playing a part would be easier until I could be free again.

Shutting my feelings off, I asked, “I’m here. What did you need me for?” I hoped she wouldn’t lock me in the library. Q hadn’t ordered me to breakfast, but who knew what rules he left her to follow.

Suzette stopped cleaning the windows with a bright pink rag and smiled. “Nothing. I didn’t want you upstairs all alone, that was all.” She stuffed the rag into her pinafore pocket, coming closer. “I do know what you’re going through. You can talk to me. I won’t betray your confidence.” The look in her eyes wavered with pity and understanding.

Her kindness, and offer of friendship, wrung my heart dry. Tears sprouted, unbidden. How desperate was I for a friend? To have someone to talk to would be beyond wonderful.

You can’t. She belongs to Q.

Suspicion replaced hope and I glared. “What did Q order you to do? Befriend me so I’ll tell you my name? Tell you things I’ll never tell him? Strip me of my only defence?”

Her mouth gaped, face twisted. “No, not at all. I’m only trying to be nice.”

Her reaction caused doubt and I slouched. I was a bitch. When I didn’t reply, an uncomfortable silence fell.

A woman called from the kitchen, “Suzette, arrêter de parler à l'esclave et vener aider à faire le d?ner de ma?tre Mercer. C'est dimanche; je ne vais pas faire le canard à l'orange par moi même.”

I strained, deciphering the long string of French. Something like: stop talking to the slave and make dinner for Master Mercer—my torturer. He didn’t deserve food.

I raised an eyebrow as Suzette smiled. I’d give anything to know what she thought—it might help figure out what the hell my future held.

“Do you want to come help us cook? Ma?tre Mercer has duck à l'orange on Sundays. It takes a while to prepare.”

My mouth hung open. She honestly thought I wanted to prepare dinner for the bastard who fingered me last night? Did she know what happened in the gaming room? My cheeks flushed. Q hadn’t exactly been discreet, dragging me down the stairs.