Bound To You

Chapter 7- Clara

"Who are you?" I asked obnoxiously, letting any bit of attitude I've had all day slip through my voice.

"Oh honey, that tone won't work for me." The woman I'd just bumped into spoke to me as if I were a child disobeying their mother. Now that I was able to get a better look at her, I could see in detail how beautiful she was. The strange woman had long black hair that ended at her slim waist. Her eyes were large and dark, with makeup that complimented her brown skin. She wore a red silk button-down blouse and black, wide-legged trousers. This woman was potentially one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen, which made me even more suspicious that she was sleeping with Mr. Bettencourt. "I'm Nikita Gupta, but you can call me Nikki. You must be Ms. Walsh."

"Yes." I took a hard swallow, "I go by Clara. Ms. Walsh is too formal for me."

"I could tell you don't care much for formalities." She pointed to my fake designer outfit. "An outfit like that won't do."

I scoffed at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Mr. Bettencourt expects you to look presentable. He doesn't want some girl walking around in cheap clothes looking like a bef0re the makeover Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. He wants to know that he's coming home to the sexiest, classiest woman in the world."

"I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?"

"Nikki, Mr. Bettencourt's personal stylist and, for the foreseeable future, yours as well."

"A personal stylist?" I stared blankly at her.

"I don't know what about any of this you're not understanding."

She began to inspect my body like I was the prized cow at a cattle show. She started at my fingernails and made her way through each one, carefully examining every millimeter of my hands. "Press-ons?" Nikki shook her head, "We'll need to book you for a manicure as soon as possible. French tips, of course."

Then she began to tussle my hair, looking at my dry, split ends and the brown roots poking through my blonde locks. "You're a natural brunette."

"Yes, I am." I said sheepishly.

"That wasn't a question." She responded flatly, "I want you back to your natural color. Imagine how disgusted Mr. Bettencourt would be seeing the clashing brown and blonde. You're going to the salon first thing tomorrow. Now, are you clean-shaven?"

"Excuse me?" Who did this lady think she was asking all these intimate questions? Mr. Bettencourt mentioned nothing of a personal stylist.

"Just answer the question, we're both girls here."

"Yes."

"Alright either continue that routinely or I'll book you for laser hair removal."

I sighed, "I'll stick to shaving for now."

"Good. Let's talk style. I see you've already got a good look at your closet."

"Yes and where's all my clothes I brought over?"

Nikki let out a hearty laugh, "Oh sweetheart, we had to get rid of those. Mr. Bettencourt wants you dressed in only the finest clothes."

"What?" I felt my blood begin to boil. Only six hours into agreeing to become his sex slave and he's already changing everything about me. When I agreed to this, I thought I'd just sleep with him in exchange for a life of luxury and comfort. I didn't want to worry about paying my bills or trying to prove that I was not a failure to my parents. Now, everything I've ever had has been ripped away from me and I wasn't even given a chance to process any of it.

"I promise you, you won't miss any of your old things." Nikki placed her hand on my shoulder, "I know this is a lot to take in, but here's where the fun part starts." She started moving around the closet, sweeping through every article of clothing, and hand-selecting each one she thought was "fit" for the day. It was like watching an artist creating their piece of work. After a minute of raking through different items, she presented me with her artwork: a dark gray three-quarters sleeve cashmere sweater, a leather mini skirt, and a pair of Louboutin patent leather stilettos. "Go put it on." She said, handing me over the outfit.

Without giving me a chance to utter another word, Nikki turned away and walked out of the closet, leaving me to try on the clothes. Reluctantly, I undressed myself and stared in the mirror, examining my body in just my underwear and bra. Was I so ugly that he wanted to change everything about me? I turned to look at myself from all angles and immediately took notice of every little thing that was wrong. My hair did look dirty with my roots growing in. My nails looked cheap now that I scrutinized them up close. My thighs were covered with cellulite and my breasts were beginning to droop. I could see evidence of smile lines, so maybe I should be smiling less or not at all. My body was such a weird shape and I needed to lose, like, 10 lbs if I wanted to be pretty.

Realizing that if I continued to do this Nikki would burst through the doors, I began to put on the outfit. After slipping on the clothes and shoes, I looked in the mirror again. As much as I wanted to hate Nikki for stripping me of my old life, I couldn't help but smile at my reflection. The way the skirt hugged my figure coupled with the fit of the sweater made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Putting on the red bottoms felt like a dream come true. After years of painting red on the bottoms of my thrifted heels, I finally had my ultimate goal on my feet.

I opened the door to find Nikki texting on her phone, tapping her feet impatiently. "Okay, um, I put the clothes on." I said hesitantly, afraid of interrupting her.

She looked up from her phone and smiled, "Alright, that's a big improvement. Now you're starting to look like the kind of girl Nicholas Bettencourt would want to be with. I'll go ahead and make some calls for hair, nails, and a facial. For now, I've been informed there's been a change of plans."

"Change of plans? What-what do you mean?" I started to stutter.

"I mean Mr. Bettencourt wants you dressed and in bed, ready for him when he comes back from work."

"Ready for him?"

"Oh my God, Clara." She stomped back into the closet and opened one of the untouched drawers. She shifted through the items and pulled out a red lacy bra with delicate crystal appliques and a matching thong. She then picked out a black, silk, lacy robe and handed them to me. "Take everything off and put these on instead. Wait in your bedroom for Delphine to get you."

"Who's Delphine?" I asked.

"She's the head housekeeper. She sees that everything and everyone is in their place."

"Where will she take me?"

"Wherever Mr. Bettencourt wants you. When you're dressed, put on these earrings." Nikki handed me a pair of diamond studs. "Get yourself done quickly. I won't have time to do your hair or makeup beforehand."

I gulped, "Thanks, Nikki. I'll be done soon."

With that, she left the room and presumably my suite altogether. I undressed myself once more and put on the new lingerie. I popped out my fake pearls from my earlobes and replaced them with the earrings that probably cost more than my entire old wardrobe put together. Taking in a deep breath, I draped myself in the robe and tied it tight so I wouldn't reveal myself to any member of Mr. Bettencourt's staff. Pleased with my attempt at maintaining modesty, I opened the closet door and sat on my new bed, waiting for Delphine.

It didn't take long for a petite, blonde woman with her hair slicked back into the neatest bun I've ever seen to appear in my bedroom. She looked me up and down and said, "Clara, I presume?"

"Yes." I said meekly.

"I'm Delphine Bardot. You will follow me."

Without another word, I followed Delphine's footsteps out of my suite and into the hallway, feeling very exposed as I did so. I felt like a baby gazelle trying to walk for the first time as I tried to keep up with Delphine's steps in my new shoes. Suddenly, she stopped and looked back at me, "Keep up, we don't have much time!"

I picked up my pace, "What do you mean 'much time'?"

"Shut up, just walk quicker."

We kept walking, or for me, it felt like sprinting, for another three minutes until Delphine stopped at a set of double doors. "This is it. Go in, take off your shoes and the robe, lay down on the bed on your stomach, and wait for Mr. Bettencourt to arrive."