Sigma, p.2
Sigma, page 2
Hammond cuts his eyes to Rowan, and something passes between them. The air around us seems to crackle with electricity. The hairs on my arms that were once standing are now being replaced by a zinging under my skin. From the way the girl’s brow pinches, I’m not the only one to feel it.
“I borrowed her from a friend just for you. Hopefully, we can give her back in the same condition we got her,” Miguel goes on to say, seemingly ignorant to the current charge in the space around us.
Hammond swings his head back to Miguel so quickly, he and I both take a step back.
“I’ll do my best,” he says through gritted teeth, but I don’t think anyone believes that.
Rowan steps forward and takes hold of Amber’s arm. He then guides her out of the main room toward one of the borrowed bedrooms.
Hammond looks us over once again before following the other two out.
It isn’t until I can’t see them anymore that the prickly feeling finally leaves.
“That fucking guy gives me the creeps,” Miguel mumbles as he places a hand to my lower back, escorting me away.
We move along to another table where a heavy-set man sits. I’ve seen him on television before. I think he’s a politician. Sitting in his lap is Emiko, another one of Miguel’s girls. Emiko is new to the collection. She’s only been with us a year. She’s half white and half Japanese. Like most of Miguel’s girls, she’s gorgeous. Her monolid eyes look up at me and narrow.
I don’t take offense; they all hate me.
“Estrava,” the politician says with a smile. His double chin hanging over the collar of his shirt. “Thank you again for opening up your home to us.”
“Senator, you’re always welcome.” Miguel smiles down at Emiko, who immediately lights up for him. She melts under his attention. “I see you’ve chosen my cherry blossom for the night. Good choice, her pussy is amazing.”
Emiko looks to me with a smug smile on her face. She tosses her long straight hair over her shoulder and lifts her head.
The Senator’s smile widens. “I’ll have to try it for myself.”
“You know where to pay,” Miguel says applying pressure to my lower back, leading me away from the two.
The moment we are out of hearing range, he wraps his arm around my waist, causing me to stop. He then presses his body against my back; the heat coming from him warms me.
“Are you angry with me?” He whispers in my ear from behind.
This is why the others hate me. It’s why they believe I’m the enemy in this house of horror.
“No,” I say truthfully.
He places a hand on my cheek and turns my face to look at him over my shoulder. His dark brown eyes look down into mine, searching for a truth he won’t find.
“I’m sorry for what I said about Emiko. I shouldn’t have said that in front of you.”
“You were only speaking the truth. It isn’t like you haven’t fucked her.”
Before he can reply, a couple walks by us and stops to speak to him briefly before walking on.
I’m thankful for the distraction. It gives me time to prepare for the bullshit that’s coming next.
“Look at me, Sweets.” I turn back to him, facing the man who took me off the streets when I was just seventeen years old.
He steps into my space, his 6-foot height towering over me. “None of the others matter. I only love you.”
I’m pretty sure I would've believed his words at one time in my life. Most likely when I was a little girl and still trusted that men meant what they said. That trust was shattered in the rain when I was eight years old. It went on to be demolished again when I was thirteen.
At the ripe age of eighteen was the last time I truly trusted a man. I went into the system for a while when in my early teens but didn’t stay there long. I’ve always been a realist. I knew from the start there were only so many ways out of my neighborhood. You either had to be extremely smart, which I wasn’t, or talented. I can’t sing, act, or play a sport. I’m an average girl with slightly above average looks and funny colored eyes. The day I ran from my foster home, I was sixteen, and I’ve been in survival mode ever since.
I got a job at the only strip club in the city that had no problem with hiring underage strippers. It was a shitty and volatile place to work. I witnessed things I should have never seen, but it supplied me with enough money to survive
It’s there that I met Miguel. He saw me dancing and couldn't take his eyes off me all night. Afterward, he approached me and made me the offer to be his personal entertainer. He said he would watch out for me, supply me with a roof over my head and food in my belly. He promised it would never go further, and he only wanted me to perform at his private parties. Even though I had all those lessons on trusting men, like a fool, I fell for it. Back then, I was still holding on to hopes and dreams.
It took him only a year to convince me to join him in his bed with promises of loving me. Even at eighteen, I didn’t fully believe him. I’m not a genius, but I wasn’t dumb enough to believe the man who had plenty of women to grace his bed could truly be in love with me. Again, that word hope came into play. I had hoped that he could love me. However, as I stand here in front of him now eight years later, I know that it isn’t love that Miguel has for me. This is purely obsession.
“I know,” I say to answer his earlier statement. It’s another lie. I will tell many more before tonight is over.
Miguel places a kiss on my lips and then steers us toward the other side of the room. We stop and speak to a few more people before we make our way back to the red room.
The red room is my special room. This is the only place I can dance. It’s given its name because of the deep red wallpaper, chairs and accents.
The place is set up like a castle’s throne. At the back of the room is a gold king’s chair. Smaller chairs and tables circle the main area, and a bar is against the front wall. A stage is in the middle of the floor.
As soon we enter, Miguel leans over and whispers in my ear, “Dance for me, Sweets.”
I never refuse the request. It’s not for him though. Dancing is the only thing I can still control. It grounds me and brings me peace. When I’m on the stage, I block everything else out and feel the music; it’s my one and only escape from here.
I climb up on the stage, and the music changes to a slow song. It’s always something I can slow whine to. Hooking my leg onto the pole, I do a little twirl to start me off. I then shut my eyes and get lost in the music, allowing the slow tempo to take my mind off my situation. Dancing is the one thing I’m good at.
Since the day Miguel took me from that filthy strip club, I haven’t wanted for anything. I live in this mansion where chefs cook three meals a day for me. If I want anything, I only have to mention it to the butler, and it will appear in my room the next day. I imagine on the outside looking in, people will ask why I would want to leave. I’d tell them, a cage is a cage, no matter how shiny it is. And there is no mistaken it, I’m definitely caged.
When I open my eyes again, I make sure to keep them on Miguel. I made that mistake only once. Using my arms only, I hold onto the pole while hanging upside down. I spread my legs into a split. Then, wrapping one leg around the metal, making sure to lock my knee, I let my hands go and hang for a second. This gets a few whistles. Seconds later, I sit up, grabbing back onto the pole, then slide down into another split on the floor. After flipping to my knees, I arch my back like a cat and crawl to the edge of the stage in his direction. He winks, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Damn, she’s amazing,” A man’s voice shouts over the music. I recognized the slurred voice as the same man from earlier. He’s the one that stopped in front of me.
My body tenses as tight as a guitar string. Climbing to my feet, I blow a kiss to Miguel, my signature move that lets him know I’m done.
I go to step off the stage, and immediately one of the guys from the security team is there to help me down. He makes sure only to touch my hand and keep his head down—another one of those unspoken rules. The only person that gets a pass to touch me or look me in the eye is Carlito and even he is limited.
I head toward Miguel's outstretched hand. As soon as I’m before him, he widens his legs for me to stand in between them. He taps his lap, and I take a seat. The knot in his pants tells me he enjoyed my performance.
“You’re my girl. Right, Sweets?”
“Yes,” I answer automatically.
He drops a kiss on my bare shoulder.
“As I was saying,” The man, Benjamin Parks, continues with the conversation they were having. “I need girls. Lots of them, and I need them within the next few days.”
“That’s a tall order you have there, Mr. CEO,” Miguel says as he rubs his fingers over my hip.
As quickly as possible, I glance at Benjamin Parks. His face reddens. He must hear the mocking tone in the title.
“I think for the money I’m offering, it’s obtainable,” Benjamin snaps back.
Miguel’s tattooed fingers stop making small circles on my thigh. My heart rate increases.
“Mr. Parks, if you can’t tell by now, I’m not in need of your money.”
Benjamin tries to speak. I’m sure it’s probably an apology, but Miguel cuts him off. “However, since I’m a businessman, and my brother thinks this is a good investment, I’m always down for making connections. I have a few of your kind that I help.”
Another quick glance, and I find Mr. Parks smiling. “Like I said, you will be doing your country a great service.”
“And the women won’t be traceable?” Carlito asks.
“Absolutely not. The place they are going is completely off the map. It will be like they disappeared in thin air.” Benjamin smiles proudly.
“What if I have some that desire to participate?” Miguel asks.
“We will take them too. It makes it a little easier if they are compliant. We compensate them well, but they will have to sign some contracts.”
Miguel pauses as if he’s thinking something over. “I have some girls in my collection I’m willing to part with. This may be a good option for them.”
Benjamin’s gaze cut to me in Miguel’s lap. I’ve been watching him out the corner of my eye since he replied to Carlito. I see the question on his thin lips. I plead with him in my head not to ask it. Thank God, he must have felt my thoughts pushing into his because he moves on.
“How many women do you think you can get for me on this first run?”
“At the moment, I have a hundred and twenty girls at my closest warehouse. You can have them all. I’ll even throw in a few girls from my collection.” Miguel says.
Benjamin gasp. I don’t think he was expecting that many. “That’s incredible. The research will truly appreciate you. Your country will appreciate you.” Benjamin is laying it on thick.
“What are you needing these women for anyway?” Carlito asks.
I’m interested in this question myself. That number of women in that short of a time seems suspicious. Miguel doesn’t talk about his business with me, but he often talked about it around me. I knew enough to know this was a tall order.
“We are doing research on fertility. Just trying to make it easier for women to carry babies.”
That’s bullshit. I can tell by the way he tugs at his clothes and looks away that he’s not telling the full truth. Even if they are working on fertility, it isn’t as simple, or for the reason he gave.
Miguel hums in the back of his throat. “We should talk more on this.”
Tension immediately has my body stiff.
Why does he need to talk about fertility? All the women in his collection are on a rigid birth control regimen. Every three months, a doctor came in to administer the birth control shot; for some of us, myself included, the shot has too many side effects. So, every morning, the butler comes in, and hands me a pill.
Miguel is very strict about no kids. In that, he and I can agree. I knew nothing about being a mother. I’m not even sure I want to be one. The one I had wasn’t any good, and what if being a bad parent is something that gets passed down. My mom was an absentee drug addict, and my father was no better. What if somewhere in my DNA I’m destined to be a shitty parent. Not to mention, bringing a child into this environment wouldn’t be good.
“Hey, Miguel,” The same male voice from earlier grabs our attention. From the slurring of his words, it’s obvious he’s even more drunk than before. “How much for that one?” The man asks, pointing directly at me.
Adrenaline shoots through my system, causing my head to swim. Anyone that has come to one of Miguel’s sample nights learns quickly how it works around here. Only on sample nights does Miguel share his special collection of women. All except one.
I don’t know what the hell makes me special. He has women far more beautiful than me. Women with skin dark as night and pale as fresh milk. Women with eyes prettier than mine and bodies that would make any man stand up and pay attention. I wasn’t even the first in his collection. I’m nothing spectacular, but he will not let me go. Nor will he share me.
Miguel taps my thigh, wordlessly asking me to stand up. I do, and he gets to his feet behind me.
“Miguel, don’t,” I plead even though I know it’s pointless.
He places a kiss on my forehead and smiles. The smile of the devil right before he claims a soul.
“This the one you want?” He turns and asks the drunk guy.
The man, a middle-aged guy, nods his head vigorously.
“Do you hear that, everyone?” Miguel turns to the room. No one speaks or makes a sound. They know as well as I do what’s about to happen. The idiot guy has just fallen into the web and provoked the spider.
“Come here, friend,” Miguel calls out to the man that is too drunk to realize the danger he is in.
“Brother,” Carlito tries to warn.
Carlito knows better than anyone the thin line between good and evil that Miguel walks.
“Relax, little brother. Tonight, is the sample night. He gets a choice.”
My heart is racing. Not out of fear that this man will get to have sex with me, but at what is about to happen.
The man comes closer, his eyes never straying from my body. My outfit, like most of my clothing, is tight. Black boy shorts that cut into my ass is covered up by a mid-thigh mesh top and a lacy bra. No matter where we went, Miguel loved to show off my body. I think he got a kick out of tempting men to touch me.
“You like what you see?” Miguel asks.
The man nods and licks his lips.
Miguel chuckles. “I offer you any woman in my home. How many do you think there is?”
The man isn’t focusing on the look on Miguel’s face or the anger in his tone. He’s too busy fucking me with his eyes.
“I don’t know,” He answers absently. “But they don’t compare to her. Those eyes got me wanting to fuck her all night.” And those few words just sealed his fate.
Neither I nor Carlito could save him now. Miguel reacts so fast he moves in a blur. He grabs the man by the back of the neck and slams his fist into the guy’s face. The drunken patron cries out, but that punch is the least of his worries.
Miguel grabs an open beer bottle off the table near us and jams the long neck of the handle into the drunk man’s right eye. The man’s scream is so loud my ears ring.
“I open up my home to you, and this is how you repay me?” Miguel shouts down into the face of the guy.
I close my eyes and cover my ears at the wretched sound of the man’s cries. Miguel slams the bottle against the table, breaking it in half. He then uses the jagged edge to stab the guy over and over in the face.
“No one touches my sweets.” His voice carries over the music and throughout the house. “If you even think about touching her, I will yank out your brains with a motherfucking fork through your nose.”
This is the side of him most people don’t see. The side that he hides behind his charming smile and his charismatic personality. This is what lies in wait in the middle of that shiny web. I guess it makes sense. Anyone who witnesses this version of him, doesn’t often live to talk about it.
A few of Miguel’s men come to take the bloodied and dying man away.
“Come here, baby.” he coos for me to come into his arms.
I go. Trust me, I must go. He has never hit me, would never dream of it, but sometimes you don’t have to strike your opponent down for them to fear you. It’s that fear that holds me, hostage, in this house. I’ve tried to leave. I even got away once. But he always finds me, and he always brings me back. And there is always a trail of bodies that follow me.
He tilts my head up and plants a kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry. I know you hate to see that shit.” I do, but that still wouldn’t have changed the outcome. “Go change your clothes. These have been ruined.”
I look down at myself, and low and behold; there is blood splattered on my chest and top.
“Nothing of another man should ever touch you, not even his blood.” He laughs before releasing me and stepping back.
I leave him and the rest of the guests in the entertainment wing of the large sprawling estate. Everything Miguel promised me that night in the strip club came to pass. I can have anything I can ever want. I have more designer labels than I can wear. Enough ice to refreeze the fucking North Pole. I’m living a life of luxury, but it comes at a high cost.
He thinks that he loves me. When I was eighteen, I thought the same thing. Now I know that love is as useless as hopes and dreams. All the women in this house are his. He fucks them all and any other woman he sees and wants. The other women are free to sleep with whomever as long as they are available to him when he wants them. I, on the other hand, cannot even look a man in the eye without that man dying.
My first month here, I thanked one of the security guards for opening a door for me, and Miguel gunned him down right on the spot. A waiter in a restaurant made me laugh once; the next morning, Miguel presented me with his head on a platter. He does not share me, and he won’t let me leave.
I’m stuck. That’s why it amazes me that women like Emiko and Candace could ever be envious of me. They know what I go through. They’ve witnessed the bullshit. None of the women that was here when I got here are still here. They’ve been replaced by the younger, more flexible version of themselves.
