could only eat a quarter of the delicious breakfast before I was stuffed.
When the woman—Ms. Vera—came back in from the bedroom, she eyed my tray disapprovingly.
“I’ll eat the rest for lunch,” I said automatically, not wanting to piss anyone off. Realizing my response made it seem like I’d still be there in a few hours, my tone was hopeful and nonchalant when I added, “I’ll take it home with me.”
My hope was quickly dashed when Ms. Vera said, “You’re not leaving.”
“For how long?”
“Until Mr. Maximo says you can.”
I was supposed to be playing it smart, but I couldn’t stop myself from shouting, “That’s kidnapping!”
Again, she shrugged like it was no biggie that she was an accomplice to kidnapping and unlawful holding and whatever else it was.
“I’ll scream until someone calls the cops.”
“No one will.”
Disappointment sank like a boulder in my belly. “The other hotel guests?”
“Mr. Maximo owns four hotels, but this is not one of them.” There was no anger, ridicule, or venom in her voice. It was matter of fact. “And no one will help you.”
He owns hotels?
And this isn’t one?
Then where the hell am I?
Pulling out a little drawer in the coffee table, she grabbed a remote and turned on the TV before handing it to me. “I’ll be back with your lunch in a few hours.”
“Wait!” I stood up. “What am I supposed to do?”
She tilted her head toward the TV. “There are hundreds of channels, I’m sure you can find something to watch.”
As she approached the door, I readied myself to bolt. But when the door was opened, two goons were there.
I may have been able to knock her over, but I had no chance against them.
Flinching as the door clicked closed, I scanned the room, zeroing in on the little drawers I’d missed during my first inspection.
I pulled all three completely out, turning them over as if I was in an escape room and needed to search for clues. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Only, instead of fighting the clock, I was fighting for my life. I went into the room and checked the armoire and nightstands, feeling around the back and under the drawers.
Empty.
Shit.
I was well and truly trapped.
Conserving my energy so I was ready when the opportunity arose, I went back to the sitting room, grabbed the remote, and flipped through the channels.
Hundreds and hundreds of channels.
CHAPTER THREE
And The Oscar Goes To…
Juliet
“HAS HE SAID when I can leave?”
I didn’t speak his name. I never did.
Two full days.
I’d been there for two long, boring days. That might not seem like long, but when being held captive and waiting for my fate to be revealed, it was an eternity.
In my real life, I worked at the gym. I kept the house running. I did chores, ran errands, and then worked at the gym some more.
I didn’t watch TV for hours on end. I didn’t nap. I didn’t eat huge, gourmet meals three times a day.
They were playing some kind of game with me, I knew it. Lulling me into a false sense of security with relaxation and beauty before pulling the rug out from under me.
What other explanation was there?
Each time I saw her, I asked if he’d said when I could leave. Each time the answer was the same.
“No,” Ms. Vera said simply.
Damn.
Weighing my words for fear of losing what little entertainment I had, I asked, “Can I have something else to do? Some books or magazines.”
“I’ll ask.”
“Did he say if I could have real clothes?”
When she’d brought me breakfast the day before, she’d also dropped off toiletries and a new set of clothes. Unfortunately, they were oversized PJ pants and a tee that fit like a dress.
As comfy as they were, there was no way I’d be able to run in them.
And I needed to be able to run.
“Yes,” she said.
That was something.
“Now eat.” She removed the dome from my breakfast tray.
It wasn’t my leftovers. It never was, no matter how many times I insisted on eating them.
Instead, there was a slice of thick bread covered in smashed avocado and a poached egg with fresh herbs. As always, there was a big bowl of fresh fruit salad, but only one glass of OJ.
Someone paid attention to what I ate and how much.
I sat and began eating the fruit. Ms. Vera shook her head, muttering that I was too skinny, but she otherwise left me alone as she went about her daily task of cleaning what was already clean.