13. Dolly

13

DOLLY

I 'd stayed in the room as long as possible, but with the sound of the bathwater being shut off—a squeak of the faucet to let me know my fate—I knew I had to move.

I thought about not going down without kicking and screaming, but fear of what he'd do to retaliate had me holding back my instinct to fight.

Clutching my clean clothes to my chest, I left the room and found the bathroom easily enough. I felt like I was walking to my execution. But while I moved forward the smallest, slowest steps possible, I took in every bit of my surroundings for when I made a run for it.

And I will.

The ancient clawfoot tub sat ominously in the tiny room, steam billowing up and filling the confined space. I didn't see my captor, but I felt him. I stepped inside, moving toward the sink, and heard Lars approach. I wanted to ignore him, to refuse to give him any attention. But I looked over my shoulder to see him standing in the open doorway.

His expression was calm and controlled as ever as his massive body filled the entire entrance. I faced forward again but could still feel his eyes on me. My skin prickled, a mix of dread and defiance running through me, but underneath all of that, there was something dark and unusual nagging my consciousness.

I didn't want to delve too deeply into what it was because that scared me even more than the man standing behind me.

"I have all the time in the world," he said finally, breaking the silence. "But the longer you take, the colder the water will get."

I glanced at him, still silent.

"And you'll still have to bathe… but in icy water." He hummed, as if the thought turned him on. "I can picture your perfect skin covered with goose bumps, your nipples tiny and hard and begging for my mouth, little darling." He growled that last part, and I shivered, hating that his words and the sound of his voice made me… feel some kind of way.

I stood by the tub, my arms wrapped around me, as if that could somehow protect me from the reality of what he was asking. No—demanding.

"I can help you bathe, Dolly. Would you like that?"

Help me bathe? The thought of him watching me, of his hands on my skin, made my stomach... God, it made it flutter.

"Leave me alone," I said softly, maybe too low for him to even hear me. I looked him in the eye, wanting him to see the strength I had—or the strength I tried to portray.

He narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't in irritation or anger. It was more calculating—like he was planning something.

"So strong, sweet girl. So independent," he replied tenderly and stepped inside, reaching back and shutting the door behind him but not closing it fully.

I shook my head, not sure what I was saying no to at that moment.

Everything.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Right? I was saying no to everything?

Panic bubbled beneath the surface, and I breathed out, "I'm not fighting you… Lars." I thought saying his name might soften him toward me. Maybe he'd see he had to be gentle with me if he wanted me to go along with this and not struggle. "I need privacy."

The air in the room went still, tension filling the space between us. I turned and faced him but kept as much distance between us as I could, even if it was only a couple of feet. As we stared at each other, I could see the way his jaw clenched. I took in his imposing size and the way his hands flexed at his sides.

For a moment, I thought he might strip me naked and force me into the tub himself. But then, after what felt like a stand-off between our two warring sides, Lars tipped his head toward the tub and reached behind him to open the door.

I thought he'd leave, but he didn't. He leaned a broad shoulder against the frame, crossed his thick arms—his flannel stretching over the wide expanse of him—and stared at me.

He was unmoving. Unflinching.

"This is as far as I go." His voice was colder now.

The way his eyes stayed on me, as if he didn't want to even blink for fear I'd disappear, was so intense that I felt it cover me like a second skin.

His expression was dark and unreadable and sent a chill down my spine. I knew without a doubt that Lars wouldn't ever be far. He would always be there. Never letting me leave.

There was no point in stalling because the longer I fought this moment the more my chances of pissing him off increased. Besides, for all I knew, he'd already seen me naked while I'd been out. Because he drugged me.

My hands trembled as I undressed. I kept my focus trained on the ground, too aware of him being so close, watching me, and knowing everything about me.

When I was naked, I folded my clothes, taking my time and putting them neatly on the sink as if I still had control over something. Anything. And then I threw my arm over my chest, covering my breasts, and covered my pussy with a hand.

A quick glance at my reflection in the cloudy mirror showed my pale face and the dark circles under my eyes. I twisted my hand while still keeping my breasts covered and stared at my inner wrist. The tattoo on my skin was a stark reminder of the man I now apparently belonged to.

Lars.

"Get in the tub, Dolly."

I hated to admit to the heat that rushed through me at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue.

I slid into the tub, and although I felt like I'd been standing there a lifetime, the water was warm against my skin, and instantly, I felt a calmness wash over me. But it was impossible to fully relax.

Every part of me was vibrating, and when Lars came closer and sat on the toilet, far too close, it was a reminder that I wasn't alone and probably wouldn't ever be again.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw him shift and lean, and then he handed me a rag. I took it without saying a word and started washing. I could imagine his eyes on me, watching every single move I made.

"I'm here, Dolly," he said, breaking the silence between us. "And I always will be."

I wasn't sure why I didn't fight harder. Maybe it was exhaustion, the weight of this nightmare wearing me down until I felt like I was in a hole. Maybe I wasn't used to having someone care for me—even in this fucked-up way. I'd been alone my entire life, so abused and beaten down that this situation was no different. I was used to this reality.

Or maybe, somewhere deep inside, I wanted to see how far this would go, to give him just enough of what he craved, but never truly surrender. Who would be stronger then? Who would hold the power then?

Let him see what he could never have—not fully, not freely.

I ran the washcloth over my arms, slow and deliberate, my skin prickling, knowing that Lars was watching. He wanted me like no other. I would use this to my advantage. I could hear his heavy but controlled breathing, like he was waiting for something.

Waiting for more.

I let the water drip down my shoulders, the steam rising around me like a cloud. A shield that somehow protected me. I wasn't doing this for him . I was doing it for me .

Remember, this is a cage.

Because while he thought he had all the control, while he believed he was the one watching me , in the end, I'd be controlling him and his actions. His emotions.

I glanced at him then, just a tilt of my head and a look from under my lashes. God… he was desperate to have me.

Let him believe he was in control. Let him think he'd won.

Because I knew the truth.

In time, I'd be the captor, and he'd be my captive.