Barbie doll number two was the first to break eye contact as she took a step back, then whispered something to one of the guys, who then turned slightly toward her so they could have a quiet discussion.
“Could you tell us what this is about?” the guy asked when they were finished.
“It’s none of your business, but I will tell you this. Mr. Whitfield doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Sierra really hoped Damien didn’t tell them to throw her out on her butt, making her look like a complete fool. If he did, she was done, fear of her father, or no fear. She was tired of being humiliated. It had to stop at some point.
“Fine, I’ll go speak to Mr. Whitfield personally, and tell him he has a… guest out front. Please go sit over there,” Barbie number one finally said before pointing at benches off in the corner, out of view of the front doors.
Sierra fought back a smile as she turned and walked to the benches. So this is what it feels like to win a small victory, she thought. They obviously couldn’t have someone looking so raggedy out in the public view. What would their rich clients think about that?
Sierra took a seat and picked up one of the magazines lying on the table. She started flipping through pages, glancing at the latest fashions. She’d never really cared, not even being allowed to pick out the majority of her clothes. Her father had felt he was far more qualified to choose for her.
Sierra hadn’t really thought to argue with him about it until later in life, then she’d been too afraid. Her sister had never had the same issues with their dad. He’d spoiled Sandy, giving her whatever she wanted.
She’d been one of the girls going to the spas with girlfriends, and getting new clothes practically every other month. She’d been daddy’s little girl, while Sierra had been daddy’s whipping post. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.
How dare he do that to her! With growing confidence and rage, a shiver of alarm still traveled down her spine. What if she was sent back to him? What if her dad somehow was able to hide her away? She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. She’d rather die.
She remembered the day he told her why he wouldn’t let her leave, why she had to pay him back for her mother’s sins. It had been a dark and terrible day.
Apparently, her mother had been extremely unhappy during their marriage, telling Douglas she was going to leave him. She found out a few weeks later she was pregnant. Instead of being elated of her pregnancy, he’d been jealous, claiming she must’ve had an affair. They fought about her, her mother swearing she’d been faithful, and Douglas insisting she’d cheated.
It hadn’t helped that Sierra looked like her mother, while a few years later Sandy had been almost a twin of their father. It seemed Sandy’s birth confirmed his suspicions that Sierra wasn’t his. He’d been humiliated; not wanting anyone to know his wife would dare cheat on him.
Her father had felt it almost a duty to sleep with as many women as possible, throwing it in their mother’s face. He’d told her she could leave, but he’d never allow her to take the girls with her. She’d vowed to the end that Sierra was his child, but Sierra figured death had been a welcome relief out of the hell her mother’s life had become.
With how much her father hated her, Sierra figured he’d be happy to have her leave, but instead of pushing her out, it had become his life’s obsession to make her pay for what he deemed as her mother’s infidelity, so instead of kicking her out of his home, he’d refused to let her leave - refused until Damien Whitfield had shown up.
Now that Sierra had a glimpse of freedom, there was no going back. She refused to allow Douglas Monroe any further power over her. With new resolve, she waited for Damien. It was time to let him know she wasn’t going to take being anyone’s whipping post ever again. She refused to allow the man to try and bring her down with his cold stares, and ridiculous requests.
Sierra heard a movement and turned to find Damien standing before her. Her mouth gaped open in shock. He was wearing a low slung towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his rock solid chest and six-pack abs. She couldn’t even manage to bring her eyes past his incredible athletic build to see the expression on his face.
She was sure the man was irritated about obviously being interrupted, and she knew she should meet his gaze, but instead she continued to stare with utter reverence and awe at the work of art before her.
She heard him clear his throat, and it was just what her brain needed to become un-frozen. Quickly closing her mouth, she drew her eyes up the additional eight or so inches to meet his eyes. She was right, he wasn’t happy.
“Is something wrong? An employee told me you were demanding to see me, refusing to leave,” Damien said as his eyes looked over her. “You don’t seem unwell,” he finished accusingly.
Sierra frantically searched for her voice, coming up with nothing. Damien Whitfield was extremely attractive on a normal day, but with water dripping off him, and his hair tousled, he was downright devastating. She felt instant desire heating her stomach, the sensation foreign, but not altogether unwelcome. She curled her toes, trying to pull herself together.
Before this moment, Sierra really had thought she may be broken from all the years of abuse. She’d never felt desire toward a man, not even her ex-boyfriend, never wanted to reach up and run her tongue down a guy’s glistening chest, like all her college friends would brag of doing. She found herself wanting to taste his hardened ni**les, test them, see if they were salty or sweet. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she still hadn’t said a word, stretching the awkward silence beyond the point of no return.
“Sierra!”
“What? You don’t have to shout,” she finally whispered, her voice sounding far too husky, even to her own ears.
“Obviously I do need to shout, as it seems you’ve lost the ability to speak. From what Kendra was saying, you were speaking just fine earlier,” he snapped.
“Oh,” she replied, forgetting why she’d even come to the spa.
“Look, Sierra. I don’t have time to stand here and play guessing games. You can either tell me what you need, or I can turn around and head back in. I work hard, and when I get five minutes to work-out, I like to do so uninterrupted. That’s already been ruined for the day, so I’d at least like to get back to my swim.”