Page 32 of Red Retaliation

I’ve lost sight of myself. If I can kill my own husband because I refused to be treated like a dog any longer, I can continue standing my ground with the likes of Redmond Bateman.

Just because he thinks he can intimidate me by forcing his lips onto mine for five seconds doesn’t mean he’s rendered me incapable. Does he think himself so Godlike that every woman melts at the sight of him?

I swallow the urge to laugh, both with contempt and a touch of annoyance, unwilling to admit the feel of his lips on mine gave me strange sensations.

I will not think about that. Neither will I succumb to his game. I am not the same woman I was this time last week.

I march over to the wardrobe. I want to cut up every single piece of clothing he bought me.

Opening the wardrobe door, I immediately slam it shut. I cannot bear the scent of Red’s aftershave lingering inside. I hate him. Hate him for not possessing the decency to tell me what’s happened. Hate him for treating me with such indifference. Do I not deserve to know whether my family lives?

How I ever deemed to notice the man’s attractiveness is beyond me.

Well, if he supposes I’m so irrelevant not to have a shred of courtesy, then I’ll just have to find out what’s happened myself.

Grabbing my handbag, I rummage through the contents even though I know what I’m looking for isn’t there.

Closing my eyes, I wrack my brains and then scan the room again.

There isn’t one here - Red has made sure of that, but I need a phone. Being locked in here, God knows how long for, a phone is the only answer.

But where can I get my hands on one?

Overriding my repugnance at the taunting waft of aftershave, I dig around clothes and boxes on the shelves in the wardrobe, even though it’s unlikely a working mobile phone will be conveniently left lying around.

Whatever Red Bateman is, he’s not stupid.

At a sudden knock and a key turning in the bedroom door, I spin around. “About time!” I yell. Red will get a piece of my mind and tell meexactlywhat occurred last night. I’ll also insist he provides me with a phone so I can let my family know I’m still alive. It’s the very least I deser... “Oh!”

I stop mid-dash across the room at the sight of a timid-looking woman armed with a cleaning trolley, buckets and mops.

“Sorry to interrupt you, miss.” She fiddles awkwardly with the neatly folded towels on her trolley. “I’ve been told to clean your room.”

“Who sent you?” I try to peer out of the door, but she shuts it. If Red sent this woman here, it means he’s around too, therefore he can damn well tell me about wh...

“The cleaning manager sent me, miss,” the woman explains, now looking even more uncomfortable.

“Not by Redmond Bateman?” His name hisses between my teeth. He’s spying on me, using this woman to see if I’m plotting another escape.

“Mr B-Bateman? We... we never see him. I...”

I soften. The poor woman looks terrified and is probably wondering who I am.

Iwonder who I am. I don’t know that anymore either.

“Do whatever you need.” I step backwards to give her space to maneuver her trolley, then wander back to the window to stare out at a life I’m not part of. The woman unloads her mop and bucket, leaving the trolley outside the bathroom door.

It’s then that I see it.

I focus on the handbag on the bottom shelf, along with a spare uniform. Sticking out of the handbag is the top of a mobile phone. My heart lurches with anticipation.

I know it’s wrong and that it’s stealing, but I’m having that phone.

Heart thudding, I creep into the center of the room, waiting for the moment the cleaner closes the bathroom door. She’s mopping the floor around the sink at the moment, but she’ll have to close the door to clean behind it eventually because Red Bateman won’t want his marble tiles left dirty.

As soon as she pushes the door to, I’ll take the phone, and the second she leaves, I’ll ring Papà.

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