Read Online Your Red Always by Leeann Whitaker - Free Book Online

Huge as it is, it’s making me claustrophobic. 
    There’s a knock, and it doesn’t come from any of the doors. I focus on the direction of the sound. It came from a wall panel. A section clicks and opens. I take a step back, clutching my jacket tight into my body.
    “Miss Lovell.” 
    Shit. Is there anywhere I can go where I will not bump into slutty Sara? Is she like his slave or something? 
    “Will you follow me?” She sidesteps through the secret door.
    This is beyond weird. Hidden doors, reappearing Sara, and the fact I’ve been brought here by Mr Knight, and cannot remember a thing. I’m freaking scared… but also intrigued.
    A sickly hunger and thirst makes me dizzy. My stomach lining is on fire, and I know I must look like I’ve just crawled through the depths of hell. I need water, and fast. I grab the glass from the bedside table. First I sniff it. Water doesn’t have a smell, and this doesn’t. I drink. Of course my senses finally come into play, and I don’t add the remedy. It could be a disguised date-rape drug or something. 
    Go Liz. Put down your foot for once. Who cares what you look like? Being kidnapped is a criminal offense. I run my fingers through my grubby hair, as I stagger through the panel, apprehensively.
    I watch my feet move across floor. I lift my head and my eyes fall onto an enormous open-plan living area. To my left, there’s a kitchen with green granite worktops, white handless cupboards, and a circular island in the centre. Everything about it screams unused. It’s pristine. No kettle, no toaster, or coffeemaker in sight. To my right, there’s a large oval glass dining table, that’s surrounded by twelve cream leather high-back chairs.
    This is crazy. It’s like I’m appearing in an episode of Cribs here. It’s lavish and fine, somewhere I don’t belong. 
    I duck my head to look further into the apartment. There’s a lounge area, with a massive grey u-shaped sofa, which is situated around a modern white central fire and extractor. I notice only one picture hung on the walls. It’s a white canvass with a smear of scarlet across it. It’s one of those abstract artworks, which equals to me, ridiculously expensive, and nonsensical. I’m more an oil painting kind of girl myself. Other than that, I see no personal touches in the place at all.
    I’m intimidated. This is way too opulent for the likes of me. I remain still. Should I move; look for a way out before Mr Knight swaggers around that corner, looking all hot, turning me to slush?
    I spin back to the bedroom, head tenderising, and heart skipping beats. Now where’s the front door? That could be it next to the bedroom. But I can’t go yet. I still haven’t found my phone.
    Sara strolls by the central fire. Is he behind her? I fluster, with my eyes on my fidgeting hands. She’s wearing a pinstripe navy skirt, with a fitted jacket over a black ruffle shirt. Her blonde hair is pulled back tight into a neat bun. Her white six inch heels, demoralizingly clop closer to me. I look like I’ve just rose from the morgue, and feel beyond stupid standing here. 
    She flaunts by the kitchen worktop, holding a Filofax. I stay very still, inanely looking up, hugging my jacket like a comfort blanket. I chew on my cheek and sigh. She pulls open the door of an immense black double fridge.
    “Where’s my bag?” My tone unsettles.
    “Here.” She clops toward me, holding out a small bottle of green liquid.
    I reluctantly take it and glower. What is this strange substance; what am I supposed to do with it? It looks alcoholic. Does she think I require a hair of the dog? Because the thought of anymore alcohol nauseates me. In fact, after this catastrophe, I shouldn’t be allowed to drink ever again.
    “Mr Knight is dealing with a client; he will see you soon.” She take the Filofax under her arm, and disappears into the bedroom.
    “Oh shit,” I mutter faintly.
    Sara returns within seconds, holding out a bale of white