Controlled: The Dollhouse, Part Two Read Free Page B

this city and is the recipient of this year’s Mayoral Prize for Excellence in Giving. I am very pleased to introduce the man who has done so much – Julian Berkmore-Hathaway.”

    T he plate in my hand dropped to the floor as my fingers went limp. The sound of it shattering was covered by the standing ovation as he took the stage. No one at the table I was clearing spared me a second glance as they rose from their seats.

    B ut he must have heard . His gaze found me in the crowd, electric green eyes bright as headlights on a country road. A shock like electricity ran through me. I ducked down behind the standing crowd ostensibly to pick up the pieces of broken china.

    M y face flamed and I knew I looked like a ripe cherry tomato. I wasn’t ever supposed to see him again, that was the deal. It was supposed to be like he had never existed. I was supposed to be able to pretend that the Dollhouse was a dream – that it had no place in my reality.

    B ut my eyes didn’t lie. Standing up on that stage was the man that had lit my body on fire and consumed my every thought with visions of his face. My patron.

    M y Julian .

Chapter Five
    I pushed blindly through the crowd of people, weaving around tables with no conscious idea of what I was doing or where I was going. I just wanted to get away as fast as I possibly could.

    T oo overcome to pay attention to what I was doing, I looked up and realized I was in an unfamiliar hallway. The ballroom was right next to the lobby but I must have turned left when I was supposed to turn right.

    A n exit sign was lit up like a lifeline at the end of the hallway. If I could just make it outside, it would be easy to find my way from there.

    I pushed through the heavy door and ended up in a dark stairwell.

    M y feet took the steps as quickly as they could. My heart beat loudly enough that I swore it echoed off of the cinderblock walls and surrounded me.

    I reached the bottom of the stairs out of breath as relief bloomed in me. But the door opened before I reached it and an imposing figure blocked my path. The door — my only escape! — slammed shut with a sound loud enough to wake the dead.

    I t was too late to slow my trajectory and I slammed bodily into whoever had opened the door. Powerful arms came up to steady me as hands the size of dinner plates tightened on my arms in a grip too strong to fight.

    I looked up into the eyes of Julian Berkmore-Sullivan.

    B efore I could react , he turned with me and shoved me against the door, hard enough that it hurt. The back of my head hit the steel with a hard thunk and I saw stars.

    I t was an uncontrollable instinct to fight. We grappled for a moment, as I tried in vain to push him away long enough to get the door open. But he easily overpowered me and pinned both of my arms to my side with the strength of his one.

    I opened my mouth — to beg or scream, I hadn’t quite figured out which— but his free hand moved to cover my mouth and pressed down hard.

    “ D on’t you dare ,” he hissed.

    “ F uck you .” I shouted against his hand, but the sound was muffled and came out sounding more like Fugh ewe!

    “ W hat are you doing here ?” The look in his eyes was cold enough to chill me to the bone. “Have you been following me?”

    I raised my eyebrows at him and he must have realized that I couldn’t exactly answer him with his hand covering my mouth. He pulled it back, but just far enough that I could speak, as if he didn’t trust me not to scream.

    “ I haven’t been following you — I haven’t even been thinking about you!” The last bit was a lie, of course, but there was no reason to tell him that. “You’re the one who has me trapped in the stairwell, remember.”

    “ H ow did you know I’d be here?” He glared into my eyes, as if willing me to tell him the truth.

    “ I didn’t ,” I said indignantly, annoyed that he’d peg me so quickly for some sort of insane stalker. “I’m just working.”

    “