have to, or Malin will die, and they will take you tonight to the whorehouse."
"I... I..."
"Malin will not let him touch you. Gustave will be watching, too." She pulls me off the ground. "Shower, now. When you finish, I will fix your hair."
"Malin...has he…he..."
"Changed?" She raises her eyebrows, but the look in her eyes already tells me my answer.
"He has, hasn't he?"
"As have you."
What have we done? Why did I ever push for this?
Malin said no. I didn't listen to him.
There was no other choice.
Wasn't there?
She guides me into the bathroom and turns on the shower. "Remove it all." She pulls a razor out of her pocket.
I don't have much hair. She makes me shave daily but never without her watching. I asked her why she doesn't leave one day.
"So you don't harm yourself."
I shivered at the thought. But several days later, I understood when I could hardly get myself off the couch.
I finish, dry off, and she fixes my hair in long curls. She applies makeup to my face. My cheeks are contoured and highlighted to perfection but look natural. Mascara, grayish-blue eyeshadows, and eyeliner make my eyes pop. She uses a nude lip pencil to outline my lips. Clear gloss accentuates their fullness.
We go into the bedroom. A white, silk slip dress lies on the bed. Six-inch stilettos with diamond stud heels shine next to it.
She unzips the dress and has me step into it, with no undergarments. She fastens it on me then helps me into the shoes.
I've never worn anything so luxurious or expensive. The silk is cool against my hot skin. The shoes should be uncomfortable but fit like a slipper.
"Do not sit." She walks to the closet, removes two hangers and a bag. She strips and puts on a red open-cup bra with only a thin strip of mesh crossing her nipples, matching crotchless panties, then attaches a lace garter belt. She rolls black stockings to her thighs and connects them. Her dress is a black, spaghetti strap minidress. It, too, is made of silk. She steps into it and spins. "Zip me, please."
I do it, and she gets red stilettos out of the closet. They are as high as mine, and she slides into them.
"Wow. You look..."
"Like sex and sin."
"Yes."
She smiles. "Tonight, and in the future, I am your friend again. Remember, everything we have practiced. Tomorrow, or in a few days, when you leave this room, we will talk."
"I'm not allowed to leave this room when I come back?"
"It will be up to Malin."
"But—"
"He owns you now, Emilia. You are his property, just as I am Gustave's. In time, you will come to understand it all, but my guess is Malin will behave like Gustave did after we had to prove ourselves."
"What do you mean?"
She shakes her head. "You will see. Do not worry about this right now."
I blink hard, not wanting to break down. I whisper, "I'm scared."
She puts her hand on my cheek. "You are strong."
"But he's going to break me, isn't he? I... I heard it in his voice."
"The President will do anything to get you. You must not forget it at any time. Tonight or tomorrow."
"Not him, Malin."
Compassion fills her eyes. I have not seen it since the plane. "Yes."
"I don't want him to," I blurt out. Something in me wants to prove to everyone in that room that I am stronger than they believe. That no matter what they do, I will not submit to his touch or be property. That Malin and I are equals and by some miracle will only be together as such, as we were before this nightmare ever started.
Two weeks ago, my faith in us was unwavering. But I'm not sure anymore. If we've both changed to get out of this alive and with each other, have we destroyed everything that made us in the process?
She stands straighter. "Then don't let him."
It hangs in the air. We both know at some point, he has to. But I also have to be determined not to let him.
The mental exhaustion of the previous days has left me confused, emotional, and feeling defeated but also wanting to fight. I crave Malin. I hate Malin. I want to hide my head in the sand but also want to be the brave, courageous woman I felt like when it was just Malin and me. It makes no sense, and I wonder if Bernadette screwed me up more than the Global Leaders ever will.