Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Way to put a damper on it, Oz.
But he was right. The South had been a dark place for many back when this home was built.
“Maybe they weren’t slave owners,” I said, wanting to believe that.
He reached the top step, but didn’t glance back at me. “Don’t kid yourself. They were. All the wealthy at that time were. This house was probably taken from them in the war. If they hadn’t evacuated it already, they were forced out. It looks new because it was restored from what I assume were ruins. It was moved to this location. That much I know.”
He walked down a wide hallway with tall, elaborate doors that looked true to the period of time the house was built. If it had been in ruins, whoever had restored it had money. There was no way this could have been affordable to bring back to its former beauty.
“Who owns this house? Is it yours?” I asked him.
He stopped at a door and waved a hand for me to go inside, but didn’t respond. Curious to see more, I went into the room and gasped at the sight before me. The walls were painted a powder-blue color with tall windows that had drapes hanging from the ceiling to the floor. A cherrywood canopy bed sat in the center, looking every bit as historical as the home itself. Every piece of furniture caught my attention.
“I would never buy a house from this time in our history,” he informed me, then pointed at a door across the room. “A bathroom is in there. It is stocked with everything you need. I put a change of clothing for you in there as well.”
The house and its furnishings forgotten, I stared at the door that led to all my current wants and needs. I started to say thank you and stopped myself before I could. I wasn’t going to thank a man who had kept me in a basement for over two days and was planning on returning me to said hellhole after I took care of all my hygiene needs.
“Don’t try something stupid, like escaping. The windows all have alarms, and you can’t get most open anyway. Not to mention, from up here, if you tried to jump, it would most likely result in your death. I’m downstairs, and I’ll hear every step you take. We are miles away from any other house.”
I hadn’t planned on trying to run.
“Not sure if you noticed,” I replied, “but I’m not a fan of your gun. I won’t be running.”
He smirked, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. I heard a lock turn and rolled my eyes. He had a trust issue. I was locked in again, but this wasn’t a basement. I could live in this prison, although I doubted very much that he was going to allow that.
Hurrying toward the bathroom, I turned the knob and swung the door open, then let out a small squeal. It was huge, white, and clean. A gold chandelier with crystals hung from the ceiling, and I went to flip the light switch just to see it sparkle. A fluffy, round rug covered the floor in front of the bathtub. I’d never seen a tub like that before. It was a shiny silver nickel on the outside, and inside, it was white porcelain. Although it stood alone, it wasn’t considered a claw-foot tub since there were no feet on it. I walked over and studied it. The depth to it would make a wonderful place to soak in a bubble bath, but first, I had to get the nasty off. I was not sitting in my filth, and I had never been dirtier.
Turning, I walked over to the shower. I was pretty sure this wasn’t historically accurate. While the tub could be a replica of something from the past that they’d filled with warm water they’d brought up, this was a luxury they hadn’t had back then. There was no door or curtain to it. I walked inside the white stone entrance and turned the corner into a roomy space with two showerheads on either side. There was a built-in shelf with expensive-looking shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
I began to strip off my clothes and wrinkled my nose at the smell.
Once I had taken off everything, I rolled it up inside my shorts and took them out to put over by the door, not wanting to touch them ever again. My eyes shifted to the towel rack with massive, thick white towels and what looked like black leggings, a T-shirt, and a pair of pink panties that made me blush.
Where had Oz gotten panties for me, and had he touched them? He had to have. At least, I thought he was alone in this house, other than me. But what if there was someone else? Would a woman stay here with him, knowing he had abducted someone and had them in the basement?