Unmeasured (Unmatched Book 1) by Alyssa Turner

Author:Alyssa Turner [Turner, Alyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

It might have been the most opulent prison on the planet. Samantha took stock of the room. The décor teetered on the edge of pretentious. The millwork frames lining the walls were upholstered in silk the shade of rose quartz. The balance of wall space was painted a cool taupe that flirted with being called gray. The carpeted floor was the softest she’d ever felt, and she guessed that it too included the softest fiber known to earth. It was the bed that really took her breath away. To start, a canopy, simple in its structure, but made elaborate with trimmings of all kinds draped around the lacquered white posts like a robe meant for royalty. The headboard stood at over five feet, nearly as tall as she. When the light hit it just right, the most subtle lace pattern appeared etched in the glossy finish. Each piece of art was a study in serenity. Paintings of abstracted land and seascapes hinted of relaxation and empty to-do lists. No television, no radio. It was a room made for a woman meant to forget the outside world.

There was a landline connected only to the housekeeper, no matter which number she dialed, and a framed calligraphy message next to it that read “No one here does your bidding.” She supposed the message was meant to be a warning. After what Oleg had said, she took it as a challenge.

Samantha stared at the exposed trusses radiating above her from the center of the conical roof. They were ashen with age, rough and ancient looking, in romantic contrast with the posh décor. A crisscross support dissecting the diameter of the circular turret design existed beneath the more intricate framework. Halfway along the intersecting beam, a mechanical steel pulley was mounted above a clear area near the bathroom. The industrial nature of it stood out conspicuously in the otherwise well-appointed room.

She sat up in bed. Three knocks at her door were the epitome of irony, as if she had the power to refuse entry of whoever was on the other side. “Who is it?” she asked, and the door opened without a word uttered.

“I understand you’ve had quite the first day of school,” Henri said. She eyed him first, his fitted black suit and pale blue shirt, and then noticed the garment bag in his hand as he stepped into the room.

“It was, until Oleg locked me in here by myself.”

Henri’s mischievous gaze danced over her skin. She was immediately reenergized. “You don’t like to be alone, chérie?”

“No, I don’t.”

He nodded his understanding, yet there was no empathy in his expression. He understood what she had said, and she suspected the knowledge would be used against her at some point.

In a perfunctory move, Henri opened the closet door to his left and placed the bag inside. Then he turned back to her. “I see that you have not yet learned how to greet your Masters when we arrive at your door.” He pointed a finger at her and directed her lower.

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