I pulled the white garment off the hook, expecting the usual ties and buttons of a hospital gown. Instead, it was sewn like a loose, sleeveless dress with a wide boat neck. I slipped it over my head. It hung halfway down my calves, the fabric soft and thick, nothing like the flimsy, stiff hospital gowns I was used to.
My feet were aching from the chill of the marble, and I stuffed them into the slippers. They were, as I knew they would be, a perfect fit.
Then I turned and faced the door. Run, a corner of my brain begged, faint and far away. I thought of my promise to Geoff, of Lisette's unwavering support, of graduation and the job and the house and the wedding and the children I didn't yet have.
And then I thought of Mr. Thorne, and the conviction came over me that, one way or another, I was never really going to leave this place.
I felt hollow, like I had been cored out. My stomach and head were light with fear. But I had only one choice. I grasped the door handle, twisted it, and stepped through, back into the surgery.
"Ms. Shaw," Mr. Thorne said, turning toward me in the center of the room.
All it took was the sight of him, with his hungry eyes and beautiful mouth, and my last primal urge to flee abandoned me. Anything. I would do anything he wanted of me.
Beside him was the chaise longue, a heavy throw blanket laid across the foot. That was where I was going to lie for the procedure. I knew it, as certainly as I knew anything. Behind the chaise was a forest of potted plants. The equipment must be back there, somewhere, discreetly hidden away.
A change had come over Mr. Thorne. He seemed taller, even more powerful, as if he had stepped out of some unseen shackles and stretched to his full size, gathering the shadows of the room around him. His gaze was as dark as sin and as inescapable. This was, somehow, the Mr. Thorne of my dream, and my heart, already humming, began to beat harder against my chest.
"Come forward, Ms. Shaw."
The words shook me, blew through me, stripping away every hesitation, every extraneous thought, until all that was left was him. I crossed over to him. I would have walked over broken glass, if he'd asked. I couldn't disobey, and I could see in his eyes that he knew it and was allowing himself the pleasure of it, no longer trying to restrain the hold he had over me.