The Naked Room by Diana Hockley Read Free Book Online

–actually know who my father is! And the one person I thought I could trust lied.
    I didn’t hear the door open. How long has he–Scarpia– been watching me?
    I lunge at him, but he’s no fool. He pushes me violently; my back smashes into the wall. Before I can get my breath, I slide halfway to the floor. Then he drops a newspaper onto the stretcher. I push myself up then start pacing backward and forward in a series of arcs across the corner. Must keep him away from the window.
    ‘What’s the matter? Not game to take me on?’
    ‘I’ll take you on any time, Ally!’ he replies, flicking his tongue in and out of his balaclava, like a lizard.
    ‘In your dreams.’
    He chuckles. ‘You’re gunna find out just how much we can sell you for soon sweetheart!’
    Ignore him. I pick up the paper and pretend to read the front page.
    ‘You might need these.’ He fishes my reading glasses case out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to me. Thank God. I snatch it out of his hand.
    He giggles. ‘Your father’s gunna to have to come up with three million dollars for you!’
    ‘Three mill–’
    They’re kidding themselves. Why would he pay for a daughter he’s never met, especially three million dollars? Don’t panic. Scarpia’s mouth curls as he watches my pathetic attempt at nonchalance.
    ‘Not so mouthy now, are we? He’s got forty-eight hours from when we make the phone call tonight and you better hope he doesn’t tell the police, because if we’re in danger, you’re in more. That’s a promise.’ He makes a pistol with his hand.
    ‘It’s Sunday and you’re only demanding a ransom now? Of course they’ve told the police I’m missing. I didn’t show up for the concert, for God’s sake.’
    ‘Yeah, we thought about that, but the longer we keep you outta the loop, the more likely they’ll think you’re being carved up. Wouldn’t want to have a finger or two go missing, would we?’ His voice is soft, the tone gentle. He glances down at my hands; I whip them behind my back. Oh, my God. Nooooooooooo. Not my fingers. Cold seeps through my body. I feel dizzy. He’s winding you up. He wants you to go berserk, so cool it, stupid.
    He laughs, eyes twinkling in the holes of the balaclava and snatches my left hand in a vice-like grip. A twitch of his wrist and I’m forced to face him. I try to slap him, but he blocks easily.
    ‘You’re hurting me, let go!’ Sweat breaks out all over my body. He pulls playfully on my fingers, singing the words in a ghastly parody of the nursery rhyme:
    ‘This little fingy went to market, this little fingy stayed at home. And this little fingy went wee wee wee, all the way to the slaughterhouse! How’re ya gunna play four-fingered, Ally?’
    He wants you to cry.
    His black eyes glint through the eyeholes in his balaclava, indicating his immense enjoyment of my situation. I can’t let him see the effect of what he is saying is having on me. Nausea threatens to engulf me. I try for a matter-of-fact tone, tugging my hand away. He releases me and steps out of kicking range.
    ‘The police will find me.’
    ‘No, they won’t. Not here, sweetheart. This is the last place they’ll look for you, believe me,’ he crows.
    ‘For three million dollars, you wouldn’t want to damage such valuable goods by–cutting me up.’
    ‘As long as we get the money, we don’t care what shape you’re in if they get you back.’ He beams like a satiated leopard.
    The woman enters and puts something on the floor, then pauses. I feel her ferocious glare, but keep my focus on the man, remembering the suspicions which danced around my mind like demons throughout the long night. Leave it, Ally. Don’t provoke him.
    I take the option of prodding the crocodile with a stick. ‘Someone had to put you up to this. Who was it a member of the orchestra?’
    His eyes flicker. ‘Whatever turns you on, babe, but it won’t matter too much who it was in the end,’ he promises, laughing at the