Mrs. Suramongkol was busying herself removing clothing from hangers, trying vainly to ignore the charged exchange that was taking place in front of her. I felt bad for her. I’d been in her shoes as couples fought at the cash register of the clothing store I worked at and I always wanted to be anywhere else in that moment. I turned towards her with an apologetic smile. “I’m all yours,” I told her.
Alexander chuckled, but covered it up with a cough. “Oh, Jenny, before I forget?” He handed me a brand-new, shiny, top-of-the-line smartphone. “It’ll work all over the world.” He leaned forward to kiss my lips gently. “Call your sister with it whenever you need, okay?”
I blinked back sudden, unexpected tears. He had no idea my entire cover story was a lie and in that moment, I felt horrible for deceiving him. Perhaps he was exactly who he said he was. Perhaps he really did want a submissive, not a slave. Perhaps he didn’t know who Dylan really was and what Sylvia did for a living. Perhaps he was just the money guy, and outside of it, a decent human being who was thoughtful enough to remember that my sister was ill and I would be worried for her.
The less emotional part of me snorted at that. When pigs fly, came the wry thought. It’s much more likely that your calls are being monitored. But I was finding it increasingly difficult to listen to that sensible voice.
***
Mrs. Suramongkol had me shed the robe and she regarded my underwear with a bemused look. “No, no,” she shook her head, “this will not do.”
This was my plain, serviceable black bra and panties. So we started with lingerie - an absolutely dizzying array of offerings she made me try on. Wisps of black lace. A confetti of colour. Soft, silky, virginal white. Polka dots. Animal prints. After the thirtieth garment, I voiced a protest. “I’m not going to need these many things,” I said, hoping I sounded firm.
She shook her head. “Men like variety, Jenny,” she said. “You must keep your man entertained, no?”
What was this, 1919? I ignored her expectation that I needed to be pretty for Alexander, but she continued, no doubt alerted by my mutinous expression. “Mr. Hamilton is a good man.” Her voice was reverent. “Kind. Thoughtful. Protective. The kind of man you hold on to.”
“Do you say this to each of the women you do this for?” The moment those words came out of my mouth, I wished them back. She obviously doted on Alexander. Who was I to correct her?
She looked puzzled, then irritated. “This is the first time I’ve been asked for help,” she said. Her tone indicated that she was done talking to me. “Now, try on the more casual daywear.”
When she left, I looked helplessly at the closet. What had been a previously bare space now was filled to the brim with the softest of silks, the crispest of cottons, and the most touchable of wools. Dresses and pants, shirts and skirts to wear during the day. Gorgeously draped evening gowns for the night. The most beautiful lingerie I’d ever seen. My hands itched to caress them all, to reach out and hug the garments against my skin.
The most unexpected thing of all was that the clothes were what I would have picked out for myself, if I had infinite wealth. They were beautiful, well-tailored and sophisticated. When I wore them, I felt like a sexy, yet confident woman. The clothes weren’t slutty. They didn’t reduce me to an object for Alexander’s desire.
In response to my question, Mrs. Suramongkol tersely mentioned that Alexander had called her yesterday evening. It seemed that the moment Alexander had surveyed the contents of my suitcase, he’d taken silent steps to remedy the situation. As tempting as it was to be outraged at his high-handedness, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t overlook the generosity and the consideration.
Before Mrs. Suramongkol was done, the next caller appeared, a dark-skinned man with round glasses and greying hair. This was the jeweller and he’d dropped off an absolute treasure chest of gems. From the way he warned me to put them away in the safe, I’d no doubt everything he’d given me was real. I reassured myself that the jewelry had to be a loan. There had to be over a million dollars in gems in front of me. Alexander just wanted to make sure that I looked appropriately ornamental on his arm.
I sighed. My mission should have been simple enough. Entice some middle-aged guy enough that he would take me to Hanoi. Kill Dylan. But Alexander turned out to be Marc and he wanted a deeper level of trust from me that I wasn’t able to give him.
Don’t treat me like a person, damn it, I wanted to shout. You are nothing but a means to an end for me. Don’t act as if I matter. Don’t pretend you care. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.
Chapter 14
Ellie / Jenny: