Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Am I as twisted and fucked up as him.
“Stop thinking about it, and answer the question,” Marek grates out, and I blink, snapping myself out of my thoughts.
It’s worth a shot, I suppose.
“If you want me to dance for you, then I want you to change the way you do things.”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t argue, either.
“I don’t want those girls in cages. I want you to let them go. We will get new girls, girls that actually want to perform. There are many of them. Your show can be incredible, Marek, but I can’t stand the way you treat those women.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then he murmurs, “I’m not prince charming, Ellie Mae. I’m the wicked monster who poisons the town. You’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
“I know who you are, but you asked my terms and those are it. If you want me to dance, I’ll dance, if you want to make this show great, we can make it great, but I won’t stand for the poor treatment of those girls.”
“You’ll stay, willingly?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Only if we go home.”
His eyes flash. “You and your friends ensured we don’t get to go home.”
“That was one town, and it’ll be old news soon. We can fix it, I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way. I don’t want to go to Russia, I want to go home. I want to tell my family I’m okay, I want the chance to do this properly.”
“Why?”
His eyes flash as he pushes out of the bed and walks over, taking a chair and sitting beside me, leaning forward on his knees.
“Why what?” I ask, pulling the blanket up higher.
“Why do you want to help me? Why should I believe a single fucking thing you’re saying.”
“I can’t dance the way I want to,” I tell him, and that’s the truth. “I’m a convenience for the people who love me, but I’m not happy. That isn’t the life I want. This...this could be. Performing all over the country, dancing how I want, that sparks more in my soul that going home ever would.”
“You’re willing to give your life up to the devil, just to dance your way?”
“I’m not giving my life up to anyone, Marek,” I say. “I’m offering you a choice. Take it, or I won’t dance.”
“You know,” he murmurs, leaning down closer, “I can make you dance, Ellie Mae.”
“Go ahead and try. I’d rather be dead than to be someone’s slave. If you want me, you do it my way. The choice is yours, Master.”
I accentuate the last word, letting it roll off my tongue.
“That sounds like a threat.”
I shrug. “Take it as you will. Let me make this show incredible or keep it your way. I have a feeling you don’t want to spend your life in Russia. I’m guessing, you left for a reason.”
He flinches, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
He pushes to his feet and growls, “Don’t pretend to know a single fucking thing about me. You’re disposable. Don’t forget that.”
He flicks the light out and the room falls silent.
Well.
That didn’t go quite as planned.
But I’ve planted the seed...now, I have to pray it grows.
It’s my only chance at getting home.
7
We arrive at a small island the following day.
I’ve heard Marek talking, and I know he owns this place. It scares me to think how he has acquired so much money, but I know it’s all done illegally. I haven’t seen the girls since I woke on this ship, but I’m praying he hasn’t hurt them.
The island itself is magical, beautiful white sand, crystal blue water, and thick trees clumped in the middle. Like a paradise, really. There is only one structure on it, and it is set amongst the trees, very well hidden by thick bushland. The twisted part is it goes underground. Marek had this built to hide out, I’m sure of it. If you didn’t know it was here, you’d never find it. Only a small door opens up to allow you to enter and that door is solid steel.
How this place is structured so you don’t suffocate, I don’t know, but it’s very well put together and clean. It only consists of a few rooms, and a small area to prepare food. You couldn’t house a lot of people in it, so Marek forces everyone else to camp above the bunker. He then sets us up so we’re staying down here. I’d much rather stay above, because down here, I feel suffocated.
“Can I stay up there?” I ask, glancing around the small space.
“No,” Marek mutters, pulling out a laptop and phone.
“Where am I going to run, Marek?”
He turns to me. “I can tie you down here if you don’t shut your mouth.”
He’s angry, or stressed, or both, and his mood is horrible.