Page 10 of The Caged Girl

“Kandi, fix her face. Mr. and Mrs. Rothschild have been checked into their rooms and then taken to the separate pools. You need to meet with Mrs. Rothschild first before going down to…” Marcie flicked her eyes to Kandi, who was brushing my face with makeup.

“Demi, don’t screw this up. If you do, you won’t be the only one dying. Alister kills all the girls who are assigned to the new girl. That’s me, Kandi, Taylor, Sarah…basically anyone you’ve interacted with here.”

This was it. This was how they had their iron chokehold around our necks.

“I promise, I won’t.” I had to pull it together. I needed to focus on the bigger picture. Why was I here?

CHAPTERSEVEN

“Mrs. Rothschild,I apologize for my absence earlier. I attended additional training. I’m a bit new here.” I smiled with a glass of pink champagne on a white- and gold-encrusted platter.

“Why is everything so white here?” Mrs. Rothschild pointed out as she adjusted her hat. “Even the dress code is so strange. Did you know women can only wear white, and my husband had to pack all black? Why is that?” She took a piece of fruit covered in white chocolate. “I finally tried a little color in my life, and then back to the rules.” She sighed as she touched the seam of her dress.

“The Ivory aesthetic.” I pursed my lips and began folding a towel before adjusting her bag neatly.

“My husband, Declan, got a referral from a guy at work. Apparently, their marriage was just as shitty as ours. You know we haven’t had sex in two years?” Mrs. Rothschild stared at her giant diamond ring. “So, this is it. This is the last chance. Not that either of us can get a divorce. I wouldn’t know how to survive out there…I’ve never been alone.”

I don’t think she was talking to me exactly, but more so herself.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, ma’am.”

Mrs. Rothchild looked at me while sipping the champagne. “Do you have sex? I mean, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure men just fawn all over you.”

“I’m not allowed to.” I glanced around and saw other girls wearing the same dress as me, with the same exact blonde bob. They were serving each guest with plastered, fake smiles.

“What do you mean, you’re not allowed to?”

I shouldn’t have said that. I thought back to the contract I had signed with Alister Ivory the day I walked into the resort and was offered the job of my nightmares. I had envisioned drowning myself in the beautiful ocean or maybe even jumping off the highest floor, but the girls I left behind, the ones I had abandoned…

Closing my eyes, I saw her face. My sister, Layla. The one who betrayed me, yet the one I loved more than anything.

I could have saved her and saved us. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to make the decisions she did, which, essentially, was to serve me up to Ian Ivory in exchange for her own freedom. She died a painful death, which was the easy way out; meanwhile I was dying every single day.

The contract Alister Ivory had me sign stated theGreat Eightas he called them:

No sex for pleasure, unless told otherwise.

Doves wear white, and only white.

Nightingales wear black, and only black.

You will obtain an IUD, along with potential removal of organs as we see fit.

You must obey and adhere to all rules.

You must never speak up, speak out, and speak loudly.

Accept that men are superior. Women are inferior.

Accept that marriage is the most sacred bond, and we will save them.

“I just choose to be celibate and focus on my guests,” I quickly answered and reached for Mrs. Rothschild’s plate. “Can I bring you anything else?” Clearing my throat, I stepped back as she lifted a book.

“I smuggled this in.” She shrugged.

I glanced at the cover. “What’s it about?” I looked over my shoulder. I wanted to read, but they wouldn’t let us have any books here beyond strange manuals I hadn’t looked at yet.

“Three teenage girls go missing in this small town, and the main character, Mila, has to find out how to cover up the dark secrets of her family before her fiancé finds out the connection between her and the serial killer. But honestly, that’s just me trying to make it sound light. It’s really twisted. This author, Monica something…she writes dark stuff. Sick, really. I can give it to you after I’m done.” Mrs. Rothschild lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun.

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