Agent 7. The Shadows: Part I

▪️◼️Chapter Twenty One◼️▪️

I hate this so much. I want to fight this, I want to fight back and say no, but I know there are consequences if I do.

He could kill me.

But is that worse than being sold to Borkov?

I shiver at the thought.

I open my eyes back up and let them float across the creamy marble flooring and matching double sink, skimming past the sprawling mirror to the soft recess lighting hanging above. The bathroom is almost as large as the bedroom of the suite. There's a jacuzzi tub to my right and a large stand up shower surrounded by all glass next to it in the corner.

The dress I couldn't wait to tear off of my body is gone along with the heels I was wearing last night that I had carelessly strewn onto the floor.

Did he dispose of them?

I can only hope.

He could've burned them for all I care. I'm just happy I never have to see them or wear them again.

Quickly, I push off from the door and as quietly as possible I open every drawer and cabinet below both sinks looking for anything that resembles a camera. I stand on my tip toes inspecting each lightbulb and vent slat.

I find nothing incriminating.

Relieved, I brush the wet hair from my face as I turn toward the shower.

Eagerly, I open the glass door and lean into the spacious area. I turn the brass handle to the hottest setting before leaning back out. I listen to the sound of the water as it rains down at my feet. A puff of steam overtakes the air around me, instantly warming my chilled skin.

As I wait for the water to fully heat, I turn around in search of a towel and robe. I find them in the small closet near the sink my captor had mentioned and set them aside on the counter.

I quickly undress but instead of discarding the designer clothing I fold each item and stack them in a neat pile on a small wooden bench just outside of the shower before stepping in.

I know there's no chance I will be allowed to keep these items, hell, I don't even know if I'll be alive tomorrow. But they're too nice to just discard onto the floor.

I take two steps into the shower and pull the glass door shut behind me. The scalding water runs down my head and pelts my back, my muscles instantly melt under the scorching heat.

It's almost too hot to bare but I don't change the temperature. It feels too good.

The tension I've been holding in my neck and between my shoulder blades begins to loosen the longer I stand here.

I find shampoo and conditioner tucked away in a built-in nook in the wall of the shower. I reach for shampoo first, squeezing a small amount into my hand, I lather it into my hair, enjoying the rich mint fragrance that fills the steamed air trapped in the shower room with me.

After rinsing it out I do the same with the conditioner. I finger comb the tangles out of my hair that were caused by not properly washing or brushing my hair after having it styled and hair sprayed for the event yesterday.

My hair is long, almost down to the middle of my back, so the tasks seems to take forever.

When I'm done, I grab the small washcloth I found on the shelf in the closet with the robe and squirt the bright orange hotel soap onto the soft white material.

It smells like my kidnapper. Citrus and spice.

I ignore the sweet fragrance as I begin to scrub at my warmed skin, ridding my body of the unwanted dirt, sweat and tears that have dried and clung to me over the past two days.