The Trophy Wife by Diana Diamond Read Free Book Online Page B

opening that might be used to escape, or even to signal to the outside world. Nothing but blank walls. She looked up at the ceiling and remembered that, in her first house, the tiles had pushed up into the space between the drop ceiling and the wooden rafters that the ceiling was hung from. Maybe there was an escape route above the ceiling tiles. She had to find a way out in case her situation became desperate.
    Emily tested the steadiness of the folding chair and then used it to climb up next to the table. Again, the room began to roll, and she pressed her palms against the walls to steady herself. The simple exertion of climbing up one step had brought back the drug-induced dizziness. Slowly, she raised one hand and pushed against the tile that was directly overhead. It lifted easily.
    She gripped the edge of the opening and climbed from thechair to the table, raising her head into the darkness above the ceiling. She was looking down a channel between two rafters, dimly lit by leaks in the lighting fixtures. The metal framing that supported the ceiling hung down a foot, so there might be enough space for her to crawl up into the narrow area between rafters. But she didn’t know whether the framing would support her weight. And the channel appeared to lead nowhere, dead-ending against the concrete foundation behind the wall.
    Suddenly, a hand grabbed her ankle and began pulling her leg off the table.
    â€œNow aren’t you a curious little bitch.” It was a man’s voice, dripping in smart-ass sarcasm. “What I can see of you looks sweet as candy. Let’s get you down here where I can get a look at the other end.”
    Emily spun awkwardly on one foot and lost her already precarious balance. She felt herself falling and clutched onto the ceiling framing. For an instant, she was hanging by her fingertips, being dragged down by the hands, which were now locked around both ankles. Then her fingers broke free and she began to fall.
    She crashed into the table, which toppled under her, spinning her sidewise toward the hard, concrete floor. An arm caught her under her shoulders and then another under her legs. She found herself looking into a dark, swarthy face with a leering smile.
    â€œVery nice. Very nice indeed. Top and bottom.”
    She struggled to get out of his grasp and get her feet on the floor, but he held her tightly. “Now what the fuck were you doing up there? Tryin’ to get away? That would make us very angry. Besides, there’s nothin’ up there for you. Just termites and cockroaches.” He carried her toward the bed. “Now down here, there’s me. And I can do lots of nice things for you.” He dropped her from a height so that she bounced on the mattress. “No reason why you should be lonely while you’re stayin’ here.”
    His hair was dark and wavy, held precisely in place by a light dab of hair cream. The shadow of a black beard showedthrough closely shaved skin. He was dressed in a colorful, open-collar sport shirt, with enough chains around his neck and dangling into curly chest hair to anchor a good-size freighter. His slacks were dark with pin stripes and his shoes buffed to a mirror finish. He was handsome, maybe even exciting to the kind of woman who finds violence exciting.
    The menace oozed from his eyes, which were enjoying the fear that must be obvious in her eyes. It radiated from a smile that found it hard to contain its delight in her helpless predicament. This was a man who enjoyed pain, particularly when he was inflicting it. He seemed perfectly at ease in a situation where he was towering over a helpless victim.
    He reached down and began undoing the top button of her gown.
    Emily shuddered. “Get away from me.”
    â€œJust a little feel … for starters.” He was leaning closer, the smile narrowing into a leer.
    â€œGet away!” She kicked out, driving her bare foot against his leg and sending him toppling