Page 26 of Sigma
A…something.
A smell.
Soap, and expensive cologne.
I inhale—it’s a good smell. Male. Clean. The fragrance is quite frankly intoxicating—spicy, a hint of something musky, a hint of sweet.
I don’t move. Barely breathe.
“You’re awake, Corinna Roth.” His voice is deep, smooth, strong. Accented. Greek?
I don’t answer.
“Are you gagged? They were supposed to gag you.”
I don’t answer. I don’t want to get Arnau in trouble.
Fingers touch my breastbone where the hood ends, slip under. Touch my lips. His fingers are smooth. Warm.
“No, they didn’t.” A sigh. “Well, no matter. If you’d caused trouble they would have told me.”
I don’t answer. What is there to say? The thousand questions I have I assume will be not answered.
“You may speak.”
I don’t.
“You must have questions.”
“W-would…” I clear my throat, start again. “Would you answer them?”
A laugh. “Not likely, no.”
I shrug. “Well then.”
“Nothing else to say?”
“Are you going to kill me?”
A pause. “No. If you cause too much trouble, perhaps. I’d rather not. You’re far more valuable to me alive.”
“Surely there are easier ways of acquiring money.”
A laugh, then. “Money? No.”
“They’re not going to negotiate with you.”
“They will.” A sense of absolute certainty.
A long pause. If I had to quantify the silence, I would say he’s thinking about something. Considering.
“Will you behave?”
“For now.”
A laugh—his laugh is sharp, predatory. Amused. “Allow me to demonstrate for you that you should amend your answer.”
Something sharp touches my thigh where my tennis skirt ends. A prick—a very,verysharp knife. It stings, burns. Drags down, a short line, splitting the top layer of skin.
