“Suits you.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“The closest I came to wearing anything like this was when I was in high school.” At my last performance.
“For the prom?” he smirks.
When he says things like that he makes me forget reality for a fleeting moment. I look at the beautiful design on the dress and guess it would definitely be suited for the prom or the red carpet at the Oscars. I wish I could have done either. The Oscars is a dream for every actress. The prom is another dream, every girl should have. I didn’t have that dream though. Instead, I fell down the rabbit hole and landed in the infernal hell I’ve been in since.
“I never went to my prom,” I tell him.
“Really? Don’t tell me no one asked you because I won’t believe it.”
I wish it was that. “No, I had stuff going on so I couldn’t go.” He knows about Mom but he doesn’t know the horror that happened after her death or that I couldn’t finish high school properly.
“That’s a shame. Come on, let’s start packing.” He hands me a box and I take it.
While he goes over to Scarlett’s main wardrobe, I stay here and pack away her costumes.
We spend close to three hours in the room packing everything with care and cleaning before his phone rings.
Every time his phone rings or he gets a message I think it’s something to do with Robert. When he pulls it out from his back pocket and answers, speaking in Russian, he gets that dark look in his eyes which confirms I’m right.
I don’t understand a word he’s saying, but I don’t think I need to, to know he’s talking about Robert. Whenever he talks about him, I catch glimpses of the man Eric is underneath the charm.
He hangs up and his hands tighten around the phone.
“Sorry, Babydoll. We have to go,” he says.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Don’t worry we’ll come back another day. Take what you have there.”
“Has something happened?”
He holds my gaze when he reaches out to touch my cheek. The warmth of his touch soothes me again and I realize I shouldn’t be seeking this.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But—”
The words are stolen from my mind when he plants a soft kiss on my lips. The kiss is too soft for him, or maybe it’s better I say too soft for us. And not the sort to give to someone like me. It’s the sort of kiss I’d imagine him giving a woman he loves as they took a leisurely lover’s walk through a beautiful garden or meadow.
When he pulls away, he looks like he even surprised himself.
“Don’t worry,” he says again. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now let’s go.”
I grab the box and we leave. He said don’t worry but now I am because just now he was so unlike himself. So now I think there must be something to worry about.
I won’t lie to myself. I’m scared of Robert. I’m scared he might still try to kill me and I don’t want to die.
I never want to die. But, maybe one day I won’t have a choice.