Read BILLIONAIRE (Part 6) for Free Online Page A

blockade the door
again or I’ll whip you good.  Tomorrow I’m going to teach you something new,
and you’re gonna do exactly what I tell you.  And don’t forget, if you tell
anybody about our little secret, I’ll fucking kill your mother, like I killed
that rabbit.”
    The
door closed.  And the lock clicked back into place.
                                                                $
    I
awoke with a start, groggy, naked, afraid.  It took me several seconds to get
my bearings, to realize that I wasn’t at home in the tiny, rundown shack that
had defined my sad childhood.  It was after that night, the one I’d dreamed of,
that I’d run.  I’d spent the next night in a chicken coop, and the next in a
train station, where I’d almost been stolen by a straight-looking commuter who
was anything but.  I’d learned how to hide, and I’d learned how to run.
    But
that had been a long time ago.
    Now,
I was in New York, in Alexander’s plush and airy penthouse apartment.
    And
I was alone.
    “Alexander?” 
My voice sounded weak and edged with panic.  It had been several years since
I’d had a dream like that.  I wondered why those deeply-buried traumas I’d
banished from my waking consciousness long ago would reoccur to me now.
    I
got up and called to him again but there was no answer.  His computer was gone
and so was he.  I felt mildly riled by this discovery but it was
understandable, I decided: he had emails to answer and he didn’t want to wake
me.  He was just being considerate, I told myself.  He’d promised me he’d try. 
He’d left me to doze, then he’d be expecting me to join him in his office. 
He’d begin to teach me, and train me.
    I
went to Alexander’s shower, scrubbing away the seedy, horrific memories.
    After
drying myself with one of Alexander’s oversized towels, I grabbed a fitted knit
black dress and for some reason, even though it wasn’t particularly cold, my
fur-lined jacket.  I wanted something thick and buffering to wrap around myself,
for comfort.  I pulled on my boots and picked up my bag, slinging its strap
across my shoulder.  I would go to his office so he could make good on his
promise.  He could start training me today.
    The
dream fringed my awareness darkly, stealing a degree of brightness from the
day.  I wanted to see Alexander, and reassure myself that he was real, and that
I was safe.  I walked to the door and turned the knob.
    At
first I thought it was stuck.
    My
heart skipped a beat as the cold terror bubbled up.  I tried again, twisting
frantically.
    He’d
locked me in.
                                                                $
    I
might have blacked out for a minute, from the residual, billowing fear that was
a product of my upbringing.  The surging intensity of it, in fact, surprised
me.  It was the one thing I hated more than any other: that feeling of being
locked in with no escape.
    It
unhinged something in me.
    I
couldn’t believe Alexander – my Alexander – would do such a thing.  This
wasn’t a door to the outside world.  This was his bedroom door.  Downstairs was
his apartment door which led to the elevator and the hall to his office.  There
was a doorman and a locked, guarded front door of the building.  No one could
get to me here.  This wasn’t about my protection.
    This
was about my entrapment.
    He
didn’t want me to leave.  He wanted full control over my whereabouts, to such
an extent that he would lock me up .
    It
was too much.
    I
thought of calling him but I was too angry.  He was the very last person I
wanted to speak to at that moment.  It didn’t matter that he was doing this for
his own peace of mind.  The bottom line was he didn’t trust me on some level. 
He wanted to control me and own me and dominate me, which was all well and good
when it was consensual and in the name of sexual