Agent 7. The Shadows: Part I

▪️◼️Chapter Fourteen◼️▪️

As we weave our way through the aisles, my eyes snag on an entire section of ordinary undergarments. No frills, no garters. Just plain panties and every-day bras.

I can't help but hold onto a small ounce of hope that my panic is for nothing.

Maybe I miss judged the man holding me against my will and that's all we're here for. They are the only items he didn't have waiting for me in his closet.

He thought of everything, but those.

We're lead into a private room with a couch, a wall of mirrors, and a smaller area within the room curtained off for changing. The walls are taupe in color accented by black and silver details and the modern recessed lighting is low and intimate.

The woman departs soon after showing us in, probably put off by the man's i'll-mannered behavior and my silence. Leaving me to drown in the nervousness that's rising quickly within me.

I shiver at the tense quiet that settles over the room, now that it's only me and my kidnapper.

I look everywhere but at him.

And since he's standing next to me, with my small body tucked flush against the crook of
his hulking frame, my eyes end up focusing on the changing room to our right.

Something about walking past that curtain and discovering what's waiting for me on the other side has unease stirring inside of me. I'm flooded with a sense of trepidation I've never experienced before.

It could be nothing, I remind myself.

Or it could be lingerie that I must wear for... I gulp, not letting my mind go there. I've lived through it enough, I don't need to revisit it now.

The man releases my side and uses his large, boney hands to turn me around by my shoulders and nudge me in the direction of the heavily draped curtains.

As we walk forward I focus on the sound of the sporadic breaths being drawn in through my mouth and back out again in a rush.

I need to calm down but no matter how hard I try to catch my breath they keep getting away from me. I feel as if I'm suffocating.

The moment the curtain is pulled to the side and I'm pushed forward, the meager traces of hope remaining within me shatter to pieces like cracked porcelain and crumble to the ground at my feet.

There are sets of lingerie hanging on every available hook and in every color. Garter belts, stockings, the whole nine yards.

"Put on the white first." My kidnapper commands taking a step away from me.

I peek over my shoulder warily, waiting for him to leave, but he doesn't.

"Do you have a problem, Alina?"

I hate the way he says my name. His voice is always too deep. The smooth Italian ravaged by a constant growl.

I swallow, trying to string the right words together without actually saying yes we have a fucking problem. Even though that's exactly what I want to say.

I can't imagine the anger it would cause if I told him what's really going on in my mind.

"Y-you want me to change? Right now, with you watching?" I ask nervously.

I finger the thin material of my sweater as I meet his eyes.

I watch on a bated breath as they search my face.

"You don't peg me as shy." He shrugs with an incredulous inflection to his tone.

My eyes drop to the floor, my flushed cheeks fill with shame knowing exactly what he's referring to. He thinks I'm a whore. That I sell my body to the highest bidder and that I do it willingly.

He couldn't be farther from the truth.

You don't know anything about me, I want to snap at him but I know it's no use. He's made up his mind about me, just like the rest of them.

I've had a lot of people make assumptions about me in the past pertaining to being Vladimir's high-priced call girl. Most assume I'm comfortable with men seeing my nakedness and using me for pleasure.

Many of the men I've met through Vladimir would hit on me or touch me inappropriately simply because they believed I wanted it or they were somehow entitled to it.

I don't want it. And I never have.

I'm not like most of the other girls who do it for the money, who chose the life they are living. They aren't shy, they don't fight the men's advances. They welcome it.

But my circumstances are different. I was deceived into this life, owned by Vladimir.

He rarely showed me off in public the way other girls were toted about, because that's not what he bought me for.

Vladimir had two uses for me: punishments and his pleasure.

He kept me around when he wanted to get his rocks off.

The event last night was the first time he had ever bought me clothing with the intentions of dressing me up or had made plans to take me to such a public event.

I have only ever been taken to his second home in Barvikha and out to small business dinners on a few rare occasions.

I look at the man holding me against my will. His arms are crossed as he waits for me to undress. His face is as hard as stone. The scar under his eye appears deep and jagged with the way the low lighting of the changing room hits his calloused features.

His arm muscles bulge beneath the material of his suit jacket as he towers over me in this small space. He appears more threatening than I've ever seen him.

He's showing me how deadly he is without having to say anything at all.

My hands tremble as they cross at my waist and grip the bottom of my shirt as I begin to undress in front of him.

I don't want to do it, but what other choice do I have? I'd rather it be me who takes my clothes off than a killer.

I meet his biting gaze and begin to lift the sweater up and over my head when he snaps at me.

"Stop."

The authority in his voice echos throughout the small room taking me off guard. I drop the shirt back around my hips.

"Unlike the men you take money from, I have no interest in watching you strip." He says uncrossing his arms. "Come out once you're dressed."

With that he turns on his heels, shoving the curtain open, and storming out of the dressing area leaving me feeling humiliated and speechless.