The Binding

Chapter Thirty-One

We froze only for a moment, a fraction of a moment before we propelled into action. Agnes clamped her hand around my arm. She trembled slightly, but I could feel her efforts to breathe normally.

    "Go," I mouthed and gestured toward the bed with my chin. She looked toward a small door I only guessed led to a bathroom. She'd never make it. Quickly she scrambled onto her knees and scuttled under the bed.

    I sat delicately in a tall wing-backed chair and crossed my legs. I remembered the knife in my hand and tucked it down behind the cushion then relaxed my hands over the armrests. I breathed slowly and listened to the hinges softly squeak as the door opened.

    Petro stepped into the room and stopped suddenly when he saw me. He wanted to smile but didn't. No, Petro would never want to let me see that. Not yet.         

    "Good Evening," he said.

    "Is it?"

    "It certainly is for me." He had a small stack of papers in his hand and walked over to a round table and set them down. "Is there a reason for this surprise visit?"

    "Yes."

    "Good." His eyes flashed. "You want something from me." It wasn't a question. His breathing quickened ever so slightly.

    "Many things, but I'll start simple." I thought he would sit, but he didn't. He stood in front of me, looking down. His expression was inscrutable.

    "First, I want your greasy henchman to keep his stubby fingers off me." He didn't move, but I saw something menacing flash across his face for just a moment and then was gone.

    Yes! Petro is possessive. I can use that.

     "He touched you?"

    "Not successfully," I answered with a slight shrug of my shoulder.

    "Which one?"

    "The ugly one."

    He laughed. "Alright. I will personally guarantee he never gets another opportunity to touch you again."

    "That's alright, I already made my own guarantee."

    Petro's smile this time was slow and purposeful. He stepped forward and bent over, placing his hands on the armrests. I turned my face up toward his only inches away. "Any other requests?"

    "A shower."

    He squinted down at me as his eyes lingering over my breasts and belly. "Why? Do you feel unclean now that you're here with me?"

    "That's putting it mildly."

    He smirked. "You don't like me." He tisked like a parent would to a young child. He grazed his fingers gently over my thigh. Could I do this? Could I go to bed with this man to keep him distracted and away from Agnes? I prayed I wouldn't have to. 

    Make him work for it.

    I placed the tip of my index finger against the middle of his chest and pushed him away.

    "That was a simple request for soap, not an invitation."

    "You think I need to be invited?"

    "No." He half-closed his eyes. "I think you want to be invited."

    Petro opened his eyes. Then he stood up and moved away from me. "Maybe." He slid a hand into his pocket. "Alright, I promise not to bed you until you ask me to." He walked casually to the other side of the bed. "And you will ask me to. You will be amazed at how patient I can be."