over. All I want is for him to come in and hold me. To kiss me and tell me everything will be all right.
But he doesn't.
Every training session I have with Bernadette makes me hate her more. Then she will be nice to me, showing me the woman I met on the plane, and I get confused.
I begin to get angry at Malin. I shouldn't. I insisted on doing this. But the desperation for him grows and hurts deeper with every day that passes and he doesn't come and see me.
He has to hear me.
Every day, I break down and wail for him.
He knows I need him and he doesn't come to me.
I don't know who I am anymore. I learn to control my body better, but it comes with loathing for myself. As much as I hate what Bernadette does to me, the breaking point is an explosion of pleasure I desperately need.
Bernadette keeps asking me if I want to go to the whorehouse to get broken in or if I want them to auction me off. I always tell her no. It still scares me and gives me the courage to continue doing the things she instructs me to do.
My emotions cycle all over the place. Day four is the roughest. I ache for Malin, and I'm exhausted from everything.
Then day five arrives. I wake up with a renewed sense of determination. I'm almost halfway through this hell. Malin and I will get through this and be together soon. But then Bernadette helps put the nail in the coffin. She hands me an oversized photo of Malin. He's at a table with Gustave and several men I don't know. A drink is in his hand, and a beautiful blonde girl in lingerie has her fingers on his chest and is leaning over him. Malin's hands are clasped around her wrists. She's whispering something in his ear. He has a smile on his face.
I'm here trying to save us and he's out drinking with beautiful women who are half naked, fawning over him.
She's younger than me.
He has to play his role.
Has he replaced me?
No, he wouldn't.
What if he has?
Nothing could hurt me more. I want to die. And the hatred I feel at times for Bernadette spirals through my broken heart. Only this time, it's not just toward her. I throw myself on the leather couch, clutching the picture and crying, inhaling its scent and trying to get any piece of Malin I can. I love him and the pain of missing him hits a high. But I'm starting to hate him.
20
Malin
"At least tell me how she is," I say to Gustave for the hundredth time. It's only been a few days. Bernadette has the key to Emilia's suite. I could pick it if I had my tool case.
Why the hell did I leave everything in the jungle?
I'm in a bedroom that butts up to Emilia's suite, but I hear nothing. Every day and night, I listen, hoping to hear something. If I did, I could tell her how much I love her or how this is killing me, even if it's through the wall. But all I hear is silence.
I've not left the embassy building. Gustave and I are in meetings every day, finding out who's on whose side and what role they plan on taking in the shift of power. The only problem is Gustave and I don't know if we're playing them or they are playing us.
It's a dangerous game. Louis is with us the majority of the time. We regain his trust. At least we think we do, but there is no way to know for sure. Gustave gave him Naomi's notes and told him the reason I took Emilia was to get them for him. He doesn't know about the other set in the safe deposit box. When we see him, I give him the hard copies Emilia and I stole.
"Who else has seen this?" he asks.
"No one."
"The President doesn't know you have these?"
"No. I've not spoken to him."
A sinister smile fills his face. "Good. Keep it that way."
How did I never see his evil before?
All these years.
Louis swirls his scotch in the crystal cut glass. "I'm still not happy you tried to play me."
Gustave snorts. "And you weren't doing the same to us?"
"Point taken." He takes a long sip.
"Now we are positive we're all on the same team, can we discuss the important things? Like who we need to eliminate."
Louis arches an eyebrow.