Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
FENRIR
PRESENT
Five days of the same walls.
Five days of the mountain view outside.
Five days of nothingness.
Only five days and I already feel like I’m losing my mind.
Other than what Hayami has had for breakfast, how much work she’s done for her university course, what book she’s currently reading, and how long she spends in the shower, there’s been nothing to report.
She’s been calm. There’ve been no attempts on her life, no hint of intruders or the house being watched, and there’s been no strange activity.
Nothing that explains why half the Devall staff hate this place and why Junko visited once and never wanted to return.
I’ve even convinced myself that the hysteria surrounding this place must be due to its remoteness and the fact that you’re cut off from the real world, so you start to think it doesn’t exist anymore.
I’ve kept Markus informed, although there’s been little to share with him. I’ve asked for an update on the Castros, but Markus is remaining tight-lipped.
Willa has been on watch during the day, reporting to me on our handover that Hayami has completed her university work, listened to some lectures, and made pasta for lunch. She tends to sleep in the afternoon after watching something on Netflix and hasn’t yet complained about her incarceration.
Willa has completed a full book of sudoku, and Hayami has persuaded her to read one of the books she found in the library.
I take over around eight o’clock, with Hayami either watching TV or reading until she goes to bed around eleven.
I’ve been keeping to the security room as much as possible, as I’m not sure how to be around her when Willa isn’t here.
I’m no saint, and having her so close with no one else to interrupt us is too much temptation.
There’ve been no tantrums. No explosions from Hayami.
Willa even suggested that this break has done her some good, given her time away from her father.
Willa said she seems relaxed here, which is more than can be said for us.
Willa is either on her phone—keeping tabs on Marta—or shivering at the quiet of this place.
I’m not sure how I feel in this house. I try to sleep during the day, but it’s difficult.
My mind is plagued with too much for it to ever rest, so I’ve been working out in my room—doing squats, planks, sit-ups, push-ups, anything to keep my thoughts from straying to Hayami, of fires, of how fucking quiet it is up here.
At night, I’m focused on the screens, watching a sleeping Hayami, wondering what dreams she’s having and whether they will ever come true.
Tonight is no different. Hayami’s reading in bed with the covers pulled up under her chin.
The tiny lamp blares on the side. I note the jerk of her head, the dip of the book.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’s fallen asleep whilst reading, and I’ve gone in and gently removed the book from her hands and tucked her in.
But tonight, she gives in to sleep, puts the book on the bedside table, and pulls the covers back.
She’s wearing T-shirt and shorts similar to the pair she wore on the first night.
After swinging her legs out of bed, she makes her way to the en suite.
Even in the dim light, I can make out the shape of her legs, the beauty of her frame, and it makes the walls of this room feel smaller than they are.
The en suite door closes behind her.
The time is eleven sixteen.
Over the last few nights, I’ve worked out that it takes her eight minutes in the en suite before she goes to bed. She must be brushing her teeth, flossing, using mouthwash, and maybe a last-minute application of face cream, but whatever she does in there takes her eight minutes.
If she goes a second over, I’ll break the fucking door down.
The time is eleven nineteen.
I swivel the chair slightly, trying not to watch the clock but pay attention to the screen.
Eleven twenty-two.
A weather warning flashes up on my phone. Torrential rain for the next twelve hours. Nothing new. All it seems to do up here is rain.
Eleven twenty-three.
My hand brushes over my Glock resting on the desk. I’ve been itching to go to the firing range and wondering if there’s anywhere out here I can set up a makeshift target. I hate the thought of getting rusty.
Eleven twenty-four.
Pushing the chair back, I ready myself to run, but as I palm my gun, the en suite door opens and Hayami emerges. I imagine the minty freshness of her breath and her glowing skin as she makes her way over to her bed.
But then she stops right at the foot of the bed and cocks her head at the camera as if she’s thinking about what to do. She then turns to face the camera full-on and grins before pulling her T-shirt up and over her head.
My grip tightens on my gun. She’s wearing a black bra, her perfect breasts held only by a scrap of lace material.
What the hell?
I’m mesmerised as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and shimmies them down her legs to reveal a black thong.
Fuck.
Kicking her shorts away, she looks directly at the camera, then blows it a kiss and appears to laugh before getting into bed and turning out the light.
Is this her idea of giving me something to watch?
She’d joked about it on the first night—about me being bored.
The only thing she’s given me is a raging hard-on that I’ll not bring myself to deal with here in this office when I have a job to do.
No, there’ll be time for that later, when I’m alone and can replay that little show in my head.
Right now, all I can wonder about is what game she’s playing.
* * *
HAYAMI
What the fuck have I just done?
I sink into the mattress, feeling giddy and light-headed.
I’ll admit, when I stepped out of the en suite, I was hot.
The central heating in this house isn’t great—I’ve spent the last five days complaining about how cold I am at night, until the Beast found an oil-filled heater in the garage and set it up in my room.
It’s worked a treat, but now it’s stifling.
I was about to take my T-shirt off when I remembered the cameras. Remembered him. And then something devilish washed over me.
It’s been so quiet over the last five days.
No news. No drama. In some ways it’s been nice, but in others, it’s made it all very dull.
That’s when it hit me: Would it really be so bad to strip in front of the camera?
It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t seen—he saw me in a swimsuit that first day. Underwear isn’t that different.
This would just be a joke, a bit of fun to lighten the monotony of what must be an incredibly boring job—watching me sleep.
And hadn’t I said, on the first night, that I would give him something to watch?
So I did. I stripped right in front of the camera.
I won’t lie. It felt good, knowing he was watching the scene unfold, hoping he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off me.
The thought of him open-mouthed, hard, maybe even stroking himself, made me want to carry on and take off my bra and pants.
But that would have been a step too far, and not something I would’ve been able to pass off as a joke.
And who’s to say I do make him hard? For all I know, he could be gay or not interested in sex or women at all. And all I could have achieved with my little stunt was me getting excited.
It was just a little light amusement, I tell myself as I slide into bed. A relief from the monotony that’s become my new routine.
Some people would love to be marooned on a mountainside. And I’ll admit, there have been some positives to being stuck out here. I’m ahead with all my assignments and studying, and I’ve read at least three of the eight books Nita packed for me—God love her.
And then there’s the absence of my father, which is the main reason I feel calm here.
So, yeah, maybe it was boredom that made me flash the Beast a peek. Or maybe it was the fact that we haven’t had any real interaction for days—not with Willa under the same roof and the security cameras recording our every move.
I thought that once Willa went to bed and we were alone, something might happen between us. But he’s stayed locked away in his little hidey-hole under the stairs, almost as if he’s deliberately keeping out of my way.
I love nothing more than winding up my bodyguards, and he’s no exception. I’m just not sure what would’ve been going through his head during my little tease.