One small act of mercy he granted me was a choice in shoes. I received two pairs when the guards arrived at the bedroomdoor: one pair is at least four or five inches tall, poised on lethal stilettos and glistening with gold straps to match the dress.The other pair is identical in design, but only about two inches high.
He remembered my ankle.
My stupid, stupid ankle that no longer hurts, is no longer bruised, and can probably withstand the skyscraper heels.
I bet he’s expecting me to choose the shorter pair. I bet he’s ready to see that I wussed out and went for the safe route in thetwo-inch heels.
So I slip on the femme fatale heels, do a little practice stroll around the room to check my balance, and smile to myself when Istop in front of the floor-length mirror.
Eat your f*****g he
