Controlled: The Dollhouse, Part Two (9 page)

I
turned
my head against the desk and stared out the gigantic windows. There were other buildings on the same level as this one, other offices with people engaged in God knew what. The light from the lamp was slight, but it was enough.

“
D
o
you think anyone saw us?” I asked. I couldn’t decide if the thought terrified or thrilled me.

J
ulian raised
his head and flashed me an evil grin, but whatever he would have said was cut off by the shrill ring of the phone on his desk. He rolled off of me with a muffled curse and picked up the receiver.

“
W
hat
?” he bit out.

I
heard
a voice on the other end but couldn’t make out exactly what was being said.

J
ulian’s face
suddenly blanked as a neutral mask settled over his features. “I understand.”

I
watched
him hang up the phone, confused at the abrupt change in his demeanor. “What’s going on?”

H
e turned away
without answering and picked my skirt and blouse up from the floor. “Get dressed. We have to go.”

“
W
hat
? Why—?”

“
N
ow
, Dalea.” The sternness in his voice brooked no argument.

I
quickly pulled
my clothes on, a little unnerved. When I was completely dressed, I turned to face him. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”

H
e turned to me
, expression unreadable. “We’re going to the Dollhouse.”

T
he Procurer’s
office was much as I’d remembered it. But by the time I stood in front of his desk my nerves had been flayed raw.

J
ulian had refused
to talk to me for the entirety of the ride. He had sat next to me in the town car as a silent driver navigated us through the nonexistent traffic, but he might as well not have been there. He hadn’t been much more than a brooding presence as he stared out the window and into the black night.

T
he Procurer remained seated
at his desk as we stood before him, like recalcitrant children facing the school principal as he threatened to call our parents. I knew I was too tired to think straight but the thought of what my mother would say after getting a call from the Procurer made me giggle.

“
I
s something amusing
, Ms. Moreno,” the Procurer snapped, turning his iron gaze on me.

“
N
-no
,” I said, immediately chastened. “Sorry.”

T
he Procured glared
at both of us. “Do you have any idea how the big the mess is that the two of you have made?”

“
I
don’t think
—“ Julian started.

“
Y
ou don’t think
at all,” the Procurer retorted. “That is the problem. Your contract with the Dollhouse stipulated
no
intercourse.”

H
ow could he possibly know
?
I must have made a surprised sound because the Procurer turned to glare at me.

“
A
nd you tore
up your contract completely, yes?”

I
gulped
. “Yes.”

“
T
hen explain
to me why I have been informed that not only are the two of you engaged in a sexual relationship, but that it is completely outside of the confines of the Dollhouse. Even worse than that, you are now working together at the same company.”

“
H
ow did you know
?” I blurted without thinking, and Julian groaned in frustration beside me.

“
N
ever doubt
my ability to gather information,” the Procurer said with a tight smile. “Now, the question remains what to do about this.”

“
I
don’t understand
,” I said, looking from one of them to other. “What’s the big deal?”

“
T
he
big deal
,” the Procurer said sarcastically. “Is that the Dollhouse has been built on keeping our client’s secrets. We deal in fantasy and the two of you gallivanting around — very much in
reality —
endangers us all. What if someone were to wonder at the start of your relationship, would you have an answer that would not lead right back here?”

“
D
on’t
you think you’re overreacting?” I asked.

T
he Procurer slammed
his hand down on the desk, wrenching a surprised gasp from me. “The non-disclosure clause of the exit contract you signed, specifically prohibiting outside contact with anyone from the Dollhouse, has been violated. There are legal ramifications.”

M
y voice was whisper-soft
. “Legal ramifications?”

“
A
ll of the
money that has been paid to you through the Dollhouse will be forfeit, for one. And of course there will be civil damages, who knows the number that will be attached to that. I’ll leave that to the lawyers.”

I
looked
at him in horror. “All of that money has been spent. I don’t have any of it left.”

“
W
ell
, I suppose that will have to be settled in court.”

“
C
ourt
!?” I choked on the word.

“
T
he non-disclosure clause
was clear and it has been violated.”

“
W
hat about him
?” I cried, pointing to Julian. “This is as much his fault as mine, if not even more so.”

“
M
r. Berkmore-Hathaway
will face his own consequences.”

“
Y
ou can’t take
me to court. Won’t that do more damage to the Dollhouse than I ever could?”

T
he Procurer steepled
his fingers underneath his chin and regarded me with a grave expression. “Non-jury trial and privately adjudicated with the records sealed after the fact, so no.”

I
backed away from him
, my heart squeezing in fear and dread. “You can’t do this.”

“
I
have no choice
. Unless you have some other solution.”

“
I
do
.” Julian spoke for the first time. I turned to him in a relief that would turn out to be short-lived. “What about a new contract?”

“
E
xactly
,” I said, until his words sunk in. “Wait — what?”

“
W
e sign a new contract
,” Julian continued as if he hadn’t heard me or was simply ignoring me, which was more likely. “And I take full responsibility for any…violations.”

“
N
ew contract
.” The Procurer raised an eyebrow. “An exclusive one?”

“
O
bviously
.”

“
W
hat would be the terms
?”

“
C
omplete ownership
, of course.”

I
looked between them
, my confusion slowly turning to horror. “What are you talking about?”

T
he Procurer turned
to me with a gentle smile, one that I would have called fatherly under any other circumstances. “In exchange for accepting any future financial responsibility, Mr. Berkmore-Hathaway is offering you an exclusive contract.”

M
y voice was small
. “What does that mean?”

J
ulian turned
to me for the first time, his eyes dark and swirling with emotions that I didn’t understand. “It means you would be mine.”

I
tried
to ignore the quiver of awareness that shot through me at his words. “Last I heard, slavery is illegal.”

“
Y
ou’d be
free to go at anytime,” the Procurer said, in a voice that he obviously thought was reassuring. “If you’re willing to accept the consequences.”

I
glared at them both
. “There’s a pretty thin line between consent and coercion.”

“
I
ndeed
.”

“
A
nd if I say yes
.” I balled my fists to keep my voice from quavering. “What about my family? What would I tell them?”

“
Y
ou’ve been awarded
a fantastic opportunity abroad with Berkmore and are unable to return for some time — but it’s the job of your dreams.” Julian’s voice was mild. I couldn’t fight the feeling that he should be more upset by all of this. “They will want for nothing, of course.”

“
I
f we cannot come
to terms,” the Procurer said, his voice careful. “The two of you will never see each other again.”

J
ulian turned to me
, moving closer but carefully not touching. “The choice is yours.”

“
I
t’s not really
much of a choice, is it?”

“
T
here’s
a metaphor for life in there somewhere.” His fingers grazed my cheek. I wanted to pull away but couldn’t. “Tell me you want to be mine, Dalea. Say yes.”

E
verything
inside of me resisted the idea of being owned — of being property. But the dark voice in my head, the one that whispered Julian’s name on an endless loop, was desperate to be his.

T
he money didn’t matter
. There was nothing the Dollhouse could do to me that life hadn’t already done. If it wasn’t the Dollhouse, it would be my mother’s medical bills or my brother’s legal fees or whatever new pile of shit that the universe decided to dump onto my life.

B
ut there was only
one Julian.

I
wanted to scream
, or run. I wanted to go back to being the girl who didn’t have to make these kinds of decisions — the girl who’d never stepped foot inside of the Dollhouse.

“
S
ay yes
,” Julian whispered. It wasn’t an order, but more of a plea.

N
o
!
I screamed inside of my own head, bucking at the loss of freedom
.
I was a person, not a possession. My lips formed the negative, tongue moving to tell them both exactly where their offer could go. Instead, I found myself saying the words that would seal my fate.

“
Y
es
.”

C
ontinue for an excerpt
from the next installment of The Dollhouse Series:

M
astered

T
he Procurer slid
a new contract across the desk. The stack of paper was as thick as my wrist and I had no doubt that trying to read it would send my head spinning off into outer space.

“
T
his contract is significantly more
…restrictive, than our normal boilerplate.” The Procurer produced a pen from the pocket of his coat and laid it gently on the table next to the contract. “Would you like to review the terms again before you sign?”

“
Y
es
,” I said, even though we had already gone over each clause in exhausting detail, at least a dozen times.

I
was stalling
and we all knew it.

“
Y
ou will remain
with Mr. Berkmore-Hathaway in a place of his choosing. The non-disclosure agreement remains in force, much as it always has. The majority of the additional clauses are in regards to the nature of your sexual relationship — and the restrictions on your freedom.”

I
sucked in a harsh breath
. “That’s a fancy way of putting it.”

“
W
e’ve taken
into account your sexual boundaries — hard limits, as they’re termed here — the acts in which you are unwilling to engage. Would you like me to list those again for you?”

“
N
o
,” I said, still embarrassed that I was going to be putting my name on a contract with the word
scat
in it. “That’s okay.”

“
W
e have also stipulated
that no permanent damage may be done to you. Play is limited to injuries that will heal — scratches, bruises, the like.”

I
shivered at his words
, fighting the curl of desire that settled in my belly. “How very kind of you.”

T
he Procurer ignored
my sarcastic tone. “The initial contract length has been designated at sixty days, at which time terms may be renegotiated.”

“
A
nd what about my family
?”

“
F
inancial arrangements are outlined here
in sub-clause five, paragraph two.” The Procurer flipped to the appropriate page and indicated the place with a sweep of his hand. “Your family is to be awarded bimonthly payments through wire transfer, equivalent to the current salary that you receive at Berkmore Global.”

“
S
o it looks
like I’m cashing my paychecks,” I sighed. “Clever.”

“
P
ayments will continue
for the duration of contract length on the condition that you abide by the clause dictating limited contact — no more than one phone call per week, to be supervised by Mr. Berkmore-Hathaway. And absolutely no in-person interactions.”

I
turned to Julian
, who had not spoken since the Procurer had presented the final version of the contract. He sat in the corner, a glass of wine hanging loosely from his hand, and sunken the shadows.

“
W
hy does
it matter to you if I see my family?”

J
ulian didn’t answer
. I couldn’t make out his face in the darkness, but I felt his gaze on me.

“
T
he time
for negotiation has passed,” the Procurer said, breaking the silence. “Now is the time to sign.”

J
ulian rose
from the chair and moved up beside me, still silent. He bent over my shoulder where I sat at the desk. The feel of him so close to me caused my heart to speed up with stuttering beats.

H
e didn’t touch me
, merely picked up the pen and signed his name with looping strokes at the bottom of the contract.

T
he Procurer slid
the contract over to me. “Ms. Moreno, your turn.”

I
waited
for the crash of lightning and thunder — something to indicate the grave importance of what I was about to do. But the only sound in the room was the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the corner and my harsh breathing.

M
y fingers trembled
as I picked up the pen.

I
had
a sudden flashback to the first time that I sat at this same desk, pen poised to sign a contract that I didn’t really understand. That impulsive decision had brought me to a place where I was trapped between coercion and consent.

W
as
I really stupid enough to make the same mistake twice?

J
ulian did touch me then
, the back of his hand stroking lightly down my cheek. Even that slight contact was enough to set a fire burning inside of me that only he could extinguish.

I
signed
, scratching the pen quickly across the paper before I had chance to talk myself out of it.

“
W
hat now
?” I asked, cursing the breathy quality of my voice.

J
ulian finally spoke
and his voice was hard and smooth, like steel dipped in dark chocolate.

“
N
ow
, you’re mine.”