Forget it. She hadn't really planned on doing the video shoot anyway.
Martin replied: [Alright, we'll keep looking for the right fit. If you change your mind, you can reach out to me or Iris.]
[Okay.]
After sending the message, she scrolled down and saw that Sophie had sent her a barrage of texts.
[Willa, why does Randal have your phone?]
[Did that absolute jerk lock you up again?]
[I had my brother go check on you. Did you see him?]
[At least send me a reply! If you don't answer, I'm calling the cops!]
She quickly typed out a response: [Sophie, I'm fine. Don't bother Corbin with this anymore. It's not worth provoking Randal.]
The second she hit send, Randal walked over with a first-aid kit. He unceremoniously plucked the phone from her hand and shoved it into his pocket.
"If you're done texting, give it to me. And keep your distance from Sophie Sommers from now on."
He knelt in front of her, gently turning her wrist over. He squeezed out some ointment and carefully applied it to the red chafe marks. "Apply this every night. The marks will fade in a few days."
"Aren't you going to work?"
Randal looked up, a flicker of emotion in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but swallowed it back, settling for a calm, "Not today. I'm staying here with you."
"Then can this chain come off?" She raised her arm slightly to gesture at the silver links.
Randal didn't argue. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff, though he couldn't help adding, "But tomorrow, it goes back on."
"Randal, how long are you going to keep me locked up like this?"
He looked up at her, a sick, twisted desperation flooding his eyes, mingling with a pathetic vulnerability.
"Until you fall in love with me again."
Willa found him completely unreasonable. She chalked it up to his mental instability acting up again.
She turned and walked over to the closet, pulling out a dress at random before glancing back over her shoulder. "I'm changing. Get out."
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