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“Not those.” She opens the wardrobe.

I stare at her back. “No.”

She looks over her shoulder. “I don’t like no, Jamie. Be good and we don’t have to get ugly.”

“I’m not playing dress-up with my kidnapper.”

Her eyes drop to my throat. I already know what she’s looking at. Fuck.

“You wore the choker.”

“That’s completely different.”

“I picked everything in here because it’ll look beautiful on you.” She turns back to the clothes. “Come here, Jamie.”

I don’t move.

The door is open. She’s blocking most of it, but I can see the hallway over her shoulder. If I hit her hard enough, I could probably get past her.

Probably. My legs still feel heavy. Not enough that I can’t walk. Enough that I don’t trust them to run.

Her eyes follow mine to the door. “Don’t.”

One word. Like I’m a dog thinking about stealing food off the table.

I look back at her. “Or what?”

She glances at the cart. The black thing is still sitting on top of it.

I walk to the wardrobe.

“Good boy.”

Good boy goes straight to my cock, because apparently my body has chosen now to betray me.

She pulls out a black skirt and holds it against me.

It’s shorter than the one I’m wearing, pleated, with two narrow straps hanging from silver buckles at the waist. I hate that I like it.

“This one.”

“I’m not changing.”

She sets the skirt on the bed and reaches for the bottom of my sweater.

I catch her wrist. “No. I don’t even know your name.”

She laughs. “I’m Heather. Let go.”

“Don’t fucking undress me, Heather.”

“Let’s be clear. Today is day one, so I’ll make some allowances. You will undress. Today you can help.”

“I’m not undressing.”

“Cute.” She reaches for the ruler.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”