Chapter Six

Later that night, the sound of a key turning in the lock pulled me from my restless thoughts. The door creaked open, and Bell entered, carrying a tray of food and a neatly folded dress draped over her arm. Her expression was calm but guarded, giving away nothing of what might come next.

She set the tray on the small table by the window and placed the dress carefully on the bed. “Mr. Rodriguez will come for you soon,” she said, her tone measured and professional. “You need to prepare.”

I stared at her, the weight of her words settling heavily on me. “Prepare for what?” I asked, though I already had a sinking feeling I knew the answer.

Bell turned her gaze toward me, her expression unreadable. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, her tone firm but not unkind. “I’m just following his instructions. Now hurry up. If you want, I can help you with your hair and makeup.”

I hesitated, unsure if I should even care how I looked for whatever Theo had planned. But something about Bell’s demeanor made me nod. If I had to face whatever was coming, I might as well do it with some sense of control, no matter how small.

“Fine,” I said, moving toward the bed where the dress lay.

“Good,” Bell replied, her tone brisk as she grabbed the tray from the table and placed it closer to me. “Eat something while you get ready. You’ll need your strength.”

I eyed the food—a bowl of soup, some bread, and a small cup of juice. Simple, but it smelled inviting. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten much all day.

Bell handed me the dress. “Change quickly, and then sit down. I’ll get the supplies.”

I took the dress from Bell’s hands, my fingers brushing against the smooth fabric. As I unfolded it, a sense of dread settled over me. The dress was a deep red, satin, and sleek, but it was far more revealing than anything I had ever worn. The neckline dipped low, exposing more cleavage than I was comfortable with, and the hemline was high, stopping just above my knee, leaving most of my thighs bare.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the dress in my hands, unsure if I should even put it on. The thought of wearing something so revealing made me feel exposed, vulnerable. It wasn’t just the way it looked—it was the way it made me feel. The tightness in my chest grew with each passing second. I didn’t want to be the kind of woman who wore something like this. I didn’t want to be ogled or treated like an object.

But there was no escaping the situation. Bell was already turning to gather the makeup supplies, her back to me. I couldn’t protest. I had no choice.

With a heavy sigh, I slipped out of my clothes and into the dress, trying to adjust it to cover as much as I could. The fabric clung to me in all the wrong ways, and I immediately felt self-conscious. I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to steady my breath as I took in my reflection. The dress hugged every curve, showing off more than I was comfortable with, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was being stripped of my dignity.

I pulled at the fabric, wishing it would be looser, less revealing. But it wasn’t. It felt like I was trapped in it.

Bell turned around, her expression unreadable, but I could see the way her eyes briefly scanned me from head to toe. She didn’t say anything, though, and for that, I was grateful.

“Sit,” she instructed, gesturing to the vanity chair. I did as she said, feeling the tight fabric shift as I moved. Bell didn’t waste any time, pulling out a brush and beginning to work on my hair.

As Bell worked on my hair, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to me, amplified by the dress. Each tug of the brush through my hair seemed to mirror the tension in my chest, and the soft swish of the bristles only heightened my awareness of how exposed I felt. The dress—tight, red, and too revealing—was suffocating me in ways I couldn’t explain. It made my skin feel too warm, like it was clinging to me in an uncomfortable intimacy I wasn’t prepared for.

Bell was gentle as she combed through my hair, her hands steady and professional, but I could see the faintest flicker of discomfort in her eyes as she took in the sight of me. I could hardly blame her. The dress, though beautiful, wasn’t something I ever imagined wearing, and certainly not in this context. But it wasn’t Bell’s fault. She was just doing her job, and I knew I had no one to blame but myself for the situation I was in.

“Don’t worry,” Bell said quietly, breaking the silence as she worked. “It’s just a formality. You won’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Her words should have reassured me, but they only made me feel worse. I wasn’t sure what Theo expected, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was coming, I wasn’t going to have any control over it. The reality of being caught in this game of power, of having to perform some role I didn’t sign up for, settled heavy on my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure I believed her. Still, I tried to focus on the task at hand, trying to convince myself that I could get through this—whatever this was—with some semblance of dignity.

After a few minutes, Bell finished styling my hair into soft, loose waves that framed my face and fell just below my shoulders. Her movements were practiced, precise, and I had to admit, she was good at what she did.

Once she was done, she stepped back and assessed her work. “Perfect,” she said, her tone neutral. “Now, let’s get you ready for the rest.”

I nodded, trying not to make eye contact with myself in the mirror. I wasn’t ready to face the reflection of someone I barely recognized. The version of me that looked back was no longer the girl who had control over her choices. She was a woman in a dress that didn’t belong to her, a woman playing a role she hadn’t agreed to.

Bell turned and started gathering the makeup supplies, her fingers swift as she prepared the brushes, the foundation, and everything else she would need to finish. I watched her, doing my best to keep my hands steady as she worked her magic.

She applied makeup with a calm efficiency, highlighting the angles of my face that I usually tried to hide, accentuating the features that didn’t need the attention. I felt the weight of each layer as it was applied, a mask that made me look like someone else entirely. It was as if, with every brushstroke, I was disappearing beneath the layers of makeup, becoming the version of myself that would meet Theo’s expectations—or at least the version he wanted to see.

When she was finished, Bell handed me a mirror, and I didn’t know what to expect. The woman in the reflection was still me, but somehow different. My features were sharper, my eyes larger and more intense, framed by smoky eyeshadow and defined brows. My lips were painted in a deep red that seemed to contrast with the paleness of my skin, making me feel even more out of place.

“You look stunning,” Bell said, her tone softer now, as if she was trying to comfort me, though I wasn’t sure if that was even possible. “He’ll be here soon.”

I nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as I placed the mirror down on the vanity. I couldn’t keep looking at myself like this. I had to focus, to remind myself that I wasn’t doing this for me. This was about survival, about getting through whatever was coming. Whatever he wanted.

The door clicked open suddenly, and I glanced up to see Bell standing still, her face giving nothing away. I was about to ask who it was, but the question was answered before I could ask it. Theo walked in, his presence immediate and overwhelming, his eyes narrowing slightly as they locked onto me.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone brokering no argument.

My heart skipped a beat. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but I did my best to keep my composure. This was it. This was the moment when everything I had feared was about to become real.

I stood, taking one last look at Bell, who simply nodded at me before turning away. I took a deep breath and followed Theo out of the room, trying not to let the discomfort of the dress and the situation overwhelm me.

As I came down the stairs, I saw Theo standing at the bottom, his eyes immediately locking onto me. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, his posture confident, but as soon as his gaze settled on me, his expression shifted.

His eyes gleamed, a mix of admiration and something darker—something that made my stomach twist uncomfortably. He took a slow, deliberate step toward me, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Well, don’t you look… interesting,” Theo said, his tone mocking yet somehow laced with approval. “A little too much for my taste, but I suppose it works for you.”

The compliment was a strange mix of praise and insult, and I could feel my pulse quicken, my unease deepening. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or genuinely pleased with what he saw, but it didn’t matter. His words stung, even though I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Theo’s smirk only widened, but his answer was sharp and dismissive. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Before I could say anything else, he grabbed my wrist roughly, pulling me toward the door. I stumbled slightly but quickly regained my balance. Theo’s grip was firm, unyielding, as he dragged me outside toward a waiting limousine. I could feel the chill of the night air, but the tension in my chest was what made me shiver the most.