Page 75 of Savagely Yours
“Marshall?” Dez called.
Marshall snapped his hand toward his mouth so fast, the device nearly busted his lip. “Sir? Yes, sir?”
“Please escort Miss Tapley to the conference room.”
“Yes, sir?—”
“Oh, are we going to eat together or something?” I cut in. “Don’t take a bite without me, asshole. I’d hate to miss an opportunity to see you choke.”
Considering how we’d left each other this morning—him hard and me wet—I hoped he picked up on the coded message between my jibes.
I marched toward the elevators.
Marshall joined me in the windowless chamber, pressed the number eight, and we didn’t say a word to one another as the doors closed. I was sure, outside of relaying my message to Dez, he was probably “barely allowed” to speak to me, either.
Once the doors opened, I stepped out and faced Marshall, doing my best not to let worry overshadow my faux rage. In reality, I wanted to sprint to the conference room, but I’d never worked on this floor.
“Which way?”
“Miss Tapley, Captain Harding is an Elite,” he appeared to be warning, gesturing for me to walk alongside him. “He was a SEAL. I wouldn’t fuck with him. He could kill you with his bare hands.”
“Can’t most men?” I asked.
He sighed. “Look, I know things aren’t ideal here, but they could be worse. You could be out there with those…things. I’ve been on two supply runs so far. You don’t know how bad it’s gotten. At least here, you’re safe. Our skin color doesn’t seem to matter, and you can love who you want. My wife is pregnant. Where else would we be better off?”
His argument was the crux of my quandary.
Would it be worth it to destroy Totten and potentially put a pregnant woman out in the wild? Could Dez and I organize a movement to dismantle the system that, instead of eliminating it, allowed for a more equitable life for everyone? If that were to happen, would we still leave?
We came to a double door.
Marshall knocked.
It opened, and he gestured for me to go first.
The server from downstairs was setting plates in front of each uniform-clad guest. They were slices of apple pie, and if it was Mae’s apple pie, Dez would soon be swallowing his doom.
I scanned the room.
He was already looking in my direction.
Marshall “escorted” me over. Right before I reached the table, the server set down Dez’s dessert. Then, she placed a paper box beside it.
“The second one, sir,” she said.
Dez nodded his thanks.
She left with a bow of her head.
“Miss Tapley,” Dez began, removing a fork from a cloth napkin. “What could possibly be the problem now? I sent you money to eat. I put you up in a very nice place where you get to live alone. Do youwantto go back to where you were?”
I looked up from the pie slice. “What?”
“Are you not listening?”
“I don’t like this,” I said. “I don’t like having to wait on you, hand and foot, as if I don’t have any agency. Plus, you have to know that the differences between us,” I slid an index finger along my forearm, “makesyouputtingmein this position ten times worse. It’s like you think it’s your right to own me.”
His expression shifted to concern. Evidently, I’d said that part a little bit too convincingly.
