Page 3 of Stains of Desire

"Mummy," Millie screams and comes running out in her nightgown. Big tears stream down her cheeks, rolling over her freckles. Her green eyes and red hair match mine, and everyone calls her my mini-me.

I need to get her out of this house.

William grunts and scowls. He finds Millie to be a nuisance. I'm constantly worried he might send her away, so I live in fear over her safety.

I crouch down, and she throws her arms around me. "Did you have a bad dream, sweetie?"

She hugs me tight and sniffles.

I rise with her in my arms. I don't say anything to William and leave the room.

I tuck Millie back in her bed and lie next to her. She curls into my body, and I stroke her hair. I sing her a lullaby she loves, and she's soon asleep.

I slide down, tempted to stay with her all night. But the last time I didn't sleep in William's bed, I paid for it the next week. He kept me working until midnight every night and had me at the office at five a.m. I didn't see Millie the entire time. Since the nanny is on his payroll, I don't trust her. But I had no choice but to leave Millie with her when I went to work.

I kiss her head one more time and sneak out of her room.

Down the hall, the light from the bedroom illuminates the floor, and my stomach drops. Every night, I pray William isn't in the mood. But most nights, I have to perform. I don't dare put up any resistance or not act into it. The one time I did that, I earned another week of not seeing my daughter and had to give him blowjobs under his desk during lunchtime and beg him to let me see her.

Any sense of self-respect I used to have is now gone, a mere memory of the person who existed before I stepped foot in Panama.

Millie is the only person I care about. Her welfare determines my every move. All I want to do is escape from William and hide somewhere he can never find us.

It's impossible. There's nowhere to hide. Too many eyes are under their control.

And I'll live the rest of my life without any other man ever touching me again. If I had never let William break me down, I might not be in this position.

I slowly tiptoe down the hall, trying to quiet my footsteps on the dark parquet floor. When I get to the doorway, I take a deep breath.

Do whatever he needs and get it over with.

"Tell the prime minister the supply is ready to be increased. Santiago won't know what hit him." William stands at the window, gazing out at the bustling nighttime city life. His shoulders are tense, and his voice is as cold as usual. I should be attracted to the back of his long frame. I'm five-ten and have only been with tall men. His black hair has more silver streaks since we've been in Panama City, which would normally appeal to me. I've always been attracted to older men. But everything about William disgusts me.

I go into the oversized walk-in closet and open the drawer full of skimpy lingerie that barely covers anything.

Before I moved to Panama, I used to love wearing sexy numbers. Now it only feels dirty and like a chore.

But I put it on. It's not a choice. It's a requirement. At all times, I am to be perfectly groomed, put together, and in what William calls "appropriate clothing."

I used to love sex. Nothing was better than having a man wrap his warm arms around me and make me feel safe. Or the tension of chemistry building minute by minute from one touch, or glance, knowing that the moment an opening presents itself, you're going to be pretzeled around each other in a sweaty state. But it wasn't just about two bodies coming together as one. I craved the intimacy that only a man and a woman can experience. I miss the intensity of an orgasm, as much as spending hours in bed laughing.

With William, there is no pleasing me. Laughter doesn't exist in this house, except between Millie and me.

"Penelope," William calls out, and I stifle my groan. I leave the closet, slide into the bed, and fall into my role as the dutiful woman.

The next morning, I get up, but William has already left. Millie is due for a doctor's appointment. I get her dressed, and we venture out.

There's a new driver I've not seen before. But he opens the door the moment we step outside, so I don't question anything. Drivers seem to rotate in and out of William's life, and I never know who we'll get.

"Good morning," I say to him.

He nods.

I buckle Millie in the seat and then latch mine as well. I focus all my energy on her, happy to be getting extra time with my daughter.

But I should have paid better attention. I should have questioned the driver about who he was.

When I look up, I don't recognize anything.