Page 5 of Empowered
Yes. I wasin lovewith him. It all seemed so silly, tiptoeing around my feelings for him back in New York. I loved him and might never get the chance to tell him.
“Do you work for his company?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m a software developer.” That part was true.
“Oh. How did you know who I was?”
Shit.I hesitated. How could I explain that without giving away more information than needed if I was just his employee? “I saw your picture.”
She furrowed her brows. “How?”
“I was helping him locate Tarun before I was kidnapped. Tarun sent Shyam your engagement photo.” This was also the truth, but again, not the whole truth. I couldn’t tell her that Shyam had first mentioned her while I was on my knees after giving him mind-blowing head. Yeah, that definitely wouldn’t make her feel too great.
She looked away in disgust at the mere mention of her engagement. “Shyam saw that? I was wondering what Tarun was doing when he took the photos,” she said, her eyes downcast and voice full of shame.
“Yes. Our software was able to decode the coordinates of Jaipur from the photo and catch the reflection of Tarun in the background of your photo,” I said.
“Does Shyam know where we are?” she asked hopefully.
I didn’t know the answer to that question, so I answered honestly. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
The door down the hall clanked as it shut. Someone was coming. We both hurried back to our benches, putting distance between us so no one would suspect we had been talking.
“You!” the guard shouted at me. “Get up! Boss wants you for work.”
Apparently, I no longer had a choice about Tarun’s offer.But then again, does anyone ever have a choice when Tarun is involved?
The guard opened the cell. I stepped out and followed him, sneaking a glance at Salena on my way out. She looked at me apologetically.
We made our way out of the dungeon and through the door that gave me anxiety every time it made noise, revealing a newvisitor. The guard pushed me up a long flight of stairs, until I reached the main level of the house, where dingy concrete and chipped paint were replaced by opulent stone and ornate tiles. A large fountain in the middle of the entrance way added a false sense of peacefulness to the ambiance. One wouldn’t be able to tell that a raging psycho who kept women prisoners in cages lived in this beautiful palace.
We passed the foyer where I had first met said psycho on the left. The guard shoved me to keep going because I was too busy observing my surroundings instead of walking. I needed to remember the layout of the house if I ever found a chance to escape.
We approached a steel door on my right that didn’t fit in with the rest of the extravagant décor of the house. The guard scanned his finger on the biometric scanner at the door, granting us entrance.
The room looked like an old library. Bookcases filled with hardcover books lined the perimeter. Four dark wood tables sat in the center of the room, with two computer stations at each table. A brown chair dotted each station. The musky scent only added to the outdated appearance.
Tarun stood impatiently in the center of the room with his hands on his hips as if he had been waiting for a long time. Today, he was decked out in a purple-and-gold brocade jacket with gold pants. A long necklace strung with pearls adorned his neck, and his mishappened birthmark peeked out from his collar. The gold medallion pendant that sat in the center of the strand of pearls rested on his abdomen. He was as ostentatious as ever.
“Ah, there she is.” His voice sounded high-pitched and melodic, like he was singing a song.
“Welcome to your new office, Miss Becker,” he exclaimed, waving his hands around. Then he eyed my new outfit.
“I see yourshalwarfits perfectly.”
I looked down at my clothes, unsure how to respond.
“Come, sit down. We have work to accomplish.” He motioned at one of the leather chairs.
He pulled the chair out, allowing me to sit. I obeyed his order. His fingers rested on the back of my neck, under my hair, giving me chills on contact. I hated his hands on me. It made me feel violated and dirty.
He inserted a flash drive into the processing unit.Who uses a flash drive anymore?The login page for Sethi Tech software was already loaded onto the screen.
“Log in,” he commanded me like I was his slave. I obliged without argument. If I protested, I was sure he’d make good on his threat to hurt my mother. She was completely innocent in all of this and I’d die before I’d let him touch her.
I entered my password, then the software prompted me to scan my finger for complete access. I was glad they had never re-cuffed my hands; having them bound would have made working on the keyboard difficult.
I had little experience with the sales accounts. I had only seen Shyam review them a few times, but I had never needed to use them for my work.
