The Mistress ✓

8

Onika
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Keep up the comments like the last update because when y'all finish this you're going to definitely want to know what's going to happen next.💓

I watch from between the slats of my blinds as a black car pulls up in front of my apartment building at nine o'clock exactly. I'm torn between wishing she was late, and knowing I don't need any more time to contemplate what the outcome of tonight might be.

Do I go out? Wait for the driver to come up? It's not like I have experience with this type of situation.

I already know they can get into my apartment, so why make it easy for her?

I wait inside like a girl whose date just honked the horn, urging her to come out so he doesn't have to come to the door. That happened only once to me, and my father wouldn't let me set foot outside the house. No, instead he went outside to scare the hell out of the boy and school him on proper manners. Needless to say, I didn't get asked out a lot after that.

The clock on my microwave ticks over to 9:01, and still the door to the car hasn't opened. In fact, it doesn't open until 9:03 and an expressionless man in a well-fitting suit unfolds himself from the front seat.

He doesn't lock what has to be an exorbitantly expensive car, especially in my questionable neighborhood. For a moment, I assume he's an idiot, and then it occurs to me that I'm the idiot. If Rihanna is everything people say she is, then no one in their right mind would dare steal his car.

I wait another minute until there's a knock on the door to my apartment. I tighten the belt on my lightweight black London Fog trench coat, a bargain I snagged at Costco for under forty bucks. It's probably a mockery of all the expensive couture Fenty sent me, but I don't give a damn.

With a spreading breath, I flip the locks and open the door.

The man gives me a quick survey from head to toe, and then jerks his head to the side. He says nothing at all, just turns and stalks down the hallway to the stairs.

I squeeze my eyes shut and step one stiletto-clad foot into the hallway, knowing that when I return, if I return, I will not be the same woman I am right now. This experience will change me irrevocably, and I already hate Robyn for that.

Although my sense of safety in my apartment is nonexistent, I take my time locking both dead bolts before following the silent man to the stairs. He walks down them slowly, as though he knows I'm not used to wearing heels this tall...or being this tall.

The harsh fluorescent light on the ceiling highlights the jagged scar on the left side of his face. It's old, clearly, but it didn't heal well.

Did she do that to him?

When we reach the ground floor, he opens the front door and once again jerks his head, as if he wants me to go first.

Responding to his silent command, I pick my way down the cracked sidewalk on the skyscraper heels as Scar walks silently behind me. I don't need to hear his footsteps to know he's there. I can feel him.

When I reach the curb, I freeze as some statistic runs through my head about how unlikely you are to survive an abduction once the kidnapper gets you in the car.

The thought of running bursts into my mind again, this time lit up in flashing neon lights.

But every reason that stopped me from packing that bag for the airport follows, along with the more practical reason. There's no way I'll get far in these heels of I try to run.