Arranged to Him

Trapped

Pulling up to Martin's mansion was tense, and I could see a million scenarios running through his head, worrying about what would happen. We weren't dealing with a normal person here. This was a very powerful and twisted shell of a human who would destroy us at the slightest implication of betrayal.

"I will tell him I need to go to the bathroom, and you have to keep him occupied while I search through the computers. Don't let him take you to a bedroom, though, Anaya, do you understand?" He lectured me for the thousandth time.

"Yes, I know, James." He turned off the engine to the Lambo and sat quietly, a dark look on his face as he looked at the white mansion, lost in thought.

"It will be fine, James. I want to do this. I'm okay with the risks." I reassured him, my voice far more confident than I actually felt. I was a small-town woman from a tiny village and had little to no knowledge of the people who ran trafficking rings. I shuddered, imagining the worst things that could happen to me, the worry and fear overwhelming me for only a moment.

I got out of the car, and he followed immediately, grabbing my hand, and he looked me in the eye seriously.

"I can't live without you, Anaya. If I have to choose who doesn't come out, it will be me." He told me quietly, his seriousness vanishing as the large doors opened, inviting us inside.

It was like he was a movie actor, and a mask fell over his face, his eyes lighting up with excitement as we were greeted by the butler while we waited for Martin.

His mood change was so convincing I questioned if I was walking into a cleverly designed trap to traffic me. I was stupid and believed everything he told me up until that point, but the rapid change startled me.

"Ah, my guests! By all means, come on up. We are waiting for you!" Martin announced from the top of massive stairs that were bigger than my apartment back home. They were white marble and had to have cost a fortune, a fortune paid for in the blood of women.

I tried to school my face, but I knew my acting wasn't nearly as good as James's was, and I struggled to contain my disgust at the statues of scantily clad women we passed down the massive halls into a room that had no reason to be as large as it was. We were led into a room already set up with alcohol and filled with young girls, much younger than I was. I wanted to be sick, but I accepted the vodka drink with a weak smile instead, keeping my eyes down so I didn't overthink things while the men talked.

"So, I know you have eclectic taste, James, do any of my girls fit your needs? Your wife may be beautiful, but surely you are tired of the same body night after night?" Martin asked casually, waving proudly at his selection of women like they were the same as the statues he had collected.

"Is this all you have? They are rather bland for my taste." James said with a disappointed sigh, drinking slowly while looking at the woman lustfully playing his part with too much accuracy for my comfort.

I drank my glass quickly and then held it up for a refill, which was promptly filled by the black-and-white suited butler. James was rich but never indulged in such opulence; his wealth was a quiet understated weatlth. Martin seemed to have made his wealth his entire personality.

"I do have a few younger girls. What race?" Martin asked, waving to an assistant who came over with a tablet ready to get a perfect fit at a moment's notice. The number of girls they had to have was insane.

"I like Asian. They are far more moldable, you see." James said with a smirk in my direction. I drank more.

I had to mentally dissociate before I had a panic attack as they went back and forth discussing such immoral subjects, instead choosing to focus on my drink and the marble floors, the wall-packed walls, and anything besides them.

"I have to use the restroom if you don't mind," James said at last as they discussed the cost of getting a girl that would meet his perverted desires from overseas.

"No problem, Antoin. Show him the restroom, if you will?" Martin asked, waving one of the many butlers over who had led James out. It was just me and Martin, the psychopath. He stared at me for a long moment and hummed critically. I smiled, feeling quite drunk at that point and far less anxious.

"Would you like a tour, perhaps? I can show you around." He offered kindly, his smile light. The alarm bells went off in my head, telling me to stay put and not move a muscle, but my drunk, idiotic body nodded, betraying my mind, and I stood unsteadily.

He grabbed my arm in a split second, not wasting the opportunity to touch me.

"Oh, look at you there, drunk already? Perhaps a lie down would help you?" He asked, leading me out before I could say no. I tugged my arm helplessly as he led me down the hall, stumbling with his rapid pace.