“I told you I love the way you look in satin…”, he murmured, ****ing his head to one side as he gazed down at her for a moment, then turning on his heel to leave.  “We’re expected at dinner by 6.”.   Heather willed herself to get out of bed and began to get dressed, still pondering over her dream, but by the time she was fixing her hair it was long forgotten.  Instead, she was fighting the urge to peek around the suite for something to soothe her nerves, something that would reassure her that she hadn’t been abandoned by Sean and the others.  Castor was nearby, in the smaller bedroom, and for a moment she paused to listen.  He was quiet – too quiet.  As she walked into the main room she passed the front door… she couldn’t possibly open it without being heard.  A soft light filtered through the sheer curtains of the tall narrow windows, echoing over the marble   Tiptoeing around, she looked for any evidence… a bug under a telephone, the watchful eyes of a stranger in the courtyard below… she found nothing that gave her reassurance.  

            “What are you doing?”

            She jerked away from the window and stubbed her toe on an end table, grimacing in pain with eyes squeezed shut.  When she opened them, reluctantly, Castor was adjusting his cufflinks absentmindedly, staring her down.  For several seconds, he said nothing, his mouth tightened into a thin line of mild disappointment.

            “I’ve already had the room searched.  It’s clean.  Oh, or are you looking for another towel?  Is that what you’re looking for, Sinclaire?”.  His voice, thick and bitter with patronizing candor, made her feel small.  She averted his gaze and sunk down on the couch, and he began to speak further, but a knock at the door broke his thoughts.  “Don’t move… sit.”, he hissed as he turned on his heel. 

            He rounded the corner into the narrow hallway, but the chill he left in the room lingered on her skin, weighing down her shoulders as she leaned back in the couch.  This is it, she thought numbly as she wrapped her arms around herself, things have changed.  She could formulate no other words in her mind, so instead she forced herself to listen… it sounded like Pollux at the door, and when the two brothers walked into the main room they weren’t alone.  A huge ruddy man, whom she could only compare to an industrial refrigerator with legs, strode behind them.  He was silent, and surveyed the room, Heather included, with dismissive glassy eyes.

            Castor glanced at her, and for a moment she caught a flash of pain and sadness on his face.  “It’s time.”, he muttered, and obediently she jumped up and smoothed her dress. 

            “And where do you think you’re going?”, Pollux sneered as Castor walked out of the room, the red hulk behind him.  “You assume you’re invited?”.

            “But… yes, he invited me.”, Heather sputtered.  She didn’t want to believe that she had buried the first signs of mutual trust between them, and there was something else as well… a need to be near him, a need for him to want her by his side.  He couldn’t be serious.  She had to speak with him, alone.  Instinctively she pushed him aside but he snatched her arm midair, twisting it lightly.  As she swung out to hit him, the faint gleam of a revolver under his jacket caught her eye.

            “No… no, no, no.  This is business.  Don’t insult my brother’s intelligence by thinking you’re still in his good graces.”.  He glanced her over, in her new dress, with disgust and derision.  “Nice dress.  You play the part of a criminal’s whore quite nicely.”.

            A shrill whistle from the far end of the corridor made both of them jump.  Castor and the thug were getting onto the elevator, and as his brother walked out to join them, her eyes met his.  He was the same man she saw days ago in Vitória – unnervingly cool, tragically bemused.  He was sin on wheels.  It was all a big circle, and a new chapter was about to begin.  She could feel it; when she rubbed her arm, when he stared her down in blithe pity as the elevator doors shut.  She felt it surrounding her, snatching her breath away.

            For moments after they left, Heather circled the suite, forcing herself to devise a plan.  She had already admitted to herself that she fell into the abyss that Archer had seen from miles away – yeah, she wanted him.  Castor seduced her.  But now it was over and done.  She would move ahead and find a way to escape.  Peeking out of every window, she saw people outside… from such a great height, it was difficult to discern who they were.  Every window was nothing more than a thick pane of glass, completely unopenable.  She briefly considered throwing something through the largest one, in the main room, but it would make too much noise… she suspected there was someone outside the door.  There had to be.  Creeping up the hallway, she crouched on the floor and peeked out… a large shadow loomed on the other side, unmoving.

            Furtively, she tried the telephone – it was disconnected.  No Internet access.  No means of reaching an upper floor through a ceiling hatch.  As she felt the first pangs of resignation in her chest, she realized there was one more means of communication… if her luck was holding out on her, this would be the perfect time for payback.  Pushing aside the picture near the fireplace, she fingered the lock on the safe.  It was just a simple combination lock – surely the combination would be simple as well.  At first she couldn’t pick up anything, but after spinning the dial with trembling sweaty hands several times she hit upon the idea of using the room number.  It can’t be that easy!, she thought to herself, but it certainly was.  Heather opened the door and breathed a sigh of happiness tinged with disbelief.  In his haste, Castor had left his wallet and cell phone inside the safe.