Chapter 20
Daphne
If someone had told me that one day I'd be stuck in a gorgeous minimalist penthouse that probably cost more than my entire existence—with a gorgeous man, no less—I would've probably laughed my ass off.
Now however, it doesn't feel all that comical as I sit here and wait for Alex to set up his laptop on the coffee table. It took him forever to bring it down here and I'm too afraid to snoop around in case he catches me red handed again.
I'm not ready for that searing gaze and whatever it was that sizzled between us when he cornered me in his closet.
So instead, I sit on the large sofa in the living room, trying to seem patient when I'm anything but. My fingers are knotted together as I scan my surroundings. There's a small room next to the kitchen and a corridor that leads to other unopened doors behind me. So many unexplored places.
My belongings could be hidden in any one of them.
Abstract paintings line the walls near the entrance, but beyond that, the space is bare.
Speakers are embedded along the walls, part of a built-in surround sound system, and a massive TV dominates the wall in front of me.
Everything is switched off, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence that has me shifting in my seat.
My fingers itch to look around, curiosity gnawing at me. There's a floor to ceiling sliding door to my right and beyond that a garden that stretches out beyond my line of sight.
How big is this place, it seems to stretch on forever? I almost stand up to take a look but Alex grabs a remote from under the table and switches on the tv. His laptop must be connected to it because I see the magnified images of whatever is displayed on the screen.
All photos of old, balding men. Great, just how I wanted my afternoon to go.
The next half an hour is arduous and boring beyond comprehension. My fingers twitch and I realise I must be in withdrawal because I haven't used my phone in days, haven't played a single game be it online or something as simple as royal blast.
Is this what addiction feels like? I find myself eyeing the phone peeking out of Alex's back pocket. Just one swipe, all it would take is one swipe.... I'd probably brush his butt a little but it's worth the shot...it's quite a nice butt...
"Are you listening?" Alex frowns at me in irritation.
I nod, swallowing hard and forcing my attention back to the pug-faced man on the tv screen. "No, never seen him before."
Alex sits down next to me and strokes his chin. "You sure he wasn't there, that night?"
"No, he wasn't. Not that I remember. Who is he?"
"Someone of interest," he murmurs evasively, switching to the next picture. This is so annoying. I'm already on edge, and he expects me to comply when he isn't even willing to divulge anything.
"Listen, I don't think I can help if you can't even tell me who these people are," I state pointedly, crossing my arms over each other.
He gives me a look and I adjust my position because my shirt has risen slightly, giving him full view of my legs. Thank God, I shaved before the party that night.
"And why do you need to know who they are?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Because I'm testifying against them. Shouldn't I know whom I'm up against?" I shrug at him incredulously. There's no way someone this slow can be this rich. He must have inherited all of it.
He chuckles suddenly, startling me, the sound soft and oddly satisfying. The corners of his eyes crinkle together as he smiles and my insides churn because god, that smile is breathtaking—like a Colgate ad.
"You're not up against anyone," he says between laughs. "You wouldn't stand a chance if you were." After this his laughter grows louder and he clutches his stomach like he's hurting.
He puts a hand up in pause. "Sorry..sorry. Didn't expect you to be so funny."
"Wasn't trying to be," I dead pan. I was being serious. The least he could do was provide me with some information with what I'm getting into. After all this was a crime organisation we were dealing with and I know nothing about it.
"Alright, let's move on," he finally says once he's stopped laughing at my expense and another face fills the screen.
"What's your name?" I ask instead, interrupting him.
He turns to me with his finger still on the keyboard. He looks so at ease—face relaxed, hair tousled, his clothes casual. It's hard to picture him hurting someone even though his shirt clearly smelled of blood the other day.
It occurs to me again that I don't know anything about him at all, or how dangerous he is. Where does he fit in this criminal world I stumbled into?
"Alex," he says, his lie piercing the silence between us.
"Liar." I fold my hands across my lap, gaze challenging.
His eyes flicker to the space separating us and he spreads his legs, getting comfortable. "Trust me the less you know the better."
"You must be Russian," I press, not wanting to let this go. I've caught the accent slipping through more than once. He hides it better than Yuri but he's not as slick as he thinks. "And why is it better? Because you're going to let me go after I testify?"
He leans back, arms perched over the sofa, legs spread wide apart. I try not to look at that specific area between his thighs, instead focusing on his face. His expression is unreadable, I can't tell if he plans to let me go or if he'll get rid of the 'evidence' after.
What happens once this is over?
"My name is Alexei," he replies after a long pause, pulling me out from my panic. Is it a good thing that he admitted that? I really don't know. "And yes, I'll let you go only after you help me get this man exiled."
At hearing this, a temporary wave of relief washes over me. My muscles slowly relax and I'm able to focus on the screen again. Alexei, what a beautiful name. It suits him.
This time, he shows me a series of pictures of another man and damn, if I ever were to consider someone daddy material, this would be the man. He appears to be in his late forties, his hair slicked back and greying at the temples.
His face is chiselled, taut skin stretched over an angular jaw and cheekbones. His skin is a deep, warm brown and stark lines etch his forehead when he frowns, but it doesn't make him look bad, in fact it only adds to his charm.
I turn to him, then to Alexei—both gorgeous and sophisticated in their own way, yet somehow similar. Is there some prerequisite that you have to look like a model to be in the mafia?
"Ring a bell to you?" Alexei's leaning forward now, shoulders taut with tension. His jaw is tight, a single vein protruding along his neck, like he's trying to control his emotions.
And then it clicks. The man on the screen is the one I saw in that alley. There's no way I could forget the face that's haunted my nightmares for weeks. Guilt coils in my stomach for checking him out a few seconds ago.
"It's him," I murmur breathlessly, pointing at the tv screen. "He's the one in the alley. The one who shot that man."
"Tell me everything you saw," Alexei says, entranced with interest.
With Aaron, I felt this deep gnawing instinct not to divulge anything but somehow right now, with Alexei, I end up telling him everything, from A-Z.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm stuck here. Maybe it's because I'm at his mercy. But it's so much easier to confide in him today, and when I'm done, I feel lighter. Finally, I've spoken about it.
Once I've finished, Alex smiles so wide, you'd think he won the lottery. "You are absolute perfection," he says, looking like he wants to hug me and we both freeze in place.
You are absolute perfection.
I didn't expect to hear those words from him of all people but it's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me. My heart flutters, sending a jolt of giddiness through me.
"I mean. This situation is perfection. It's ideal, for me," he quickly backtracks, extinguishing the flutter in my chest.
I nod, looking anywhere else—the paintings, the kitchen, the outdoor garden. "Of course."
"I think our progress calls for a drink." He rises quickly and heads for the sliding doors. I hadn't even noticed the white cabinet by the kitchen, hidden against the wall, until he pulls it open and retrieves a bottle.
He pours us both a glass and walks over to hand me one. I take it from him hesitantly, peering at the brown liquid swishing around inside. I've never been much of a drinker but I suddenly want to drown my sorrows in one.
I can't believe the most romantic line I've heard to date came from my captor. It's honestly sad at this point.
"Listen. All I need is for you to say the exact things you said today. And then your job is done and I'll let you go. Okay?"
I take a sip and wince, never been a fan of whisky.
"You don't like it?" He asks in amusement, taking the glass from me. How is he so unaffected, using me like this?
But of course he is. A man who looks like that and lives in a place like this must have women at his disposal every second of the day.
"I hate it," I say bitterly.
"Alright. What's your poison then?" he asks, heading over to the liquor cabinet once again.
At this moment...You. I rub my forehead. "Umm, vodka lime?"
I didn't expect him to have cordial and lime ready but he whips up a glass quickly and serves it to me. His mood is considerably better than mine as he sits down and watches me expectantly.
I take a tentative sip and I hate to admit it, but it tastes bloody good.
The two of us sit together in silence, sipping our drinks until I can't take it anymore. "How long do I have to be here? When will you let me go?"
If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looked a bit hurt but it happens so fast, maybe it's all just me hoping I'm not the only one who feels something here.
"Once you testify in front of the Commission...I'll let you go."
There's a hesitancy in his tone that singes my nerves, putting me on edge. I want to believe him, but any sane person would know that a criminal never lets their prisoners free. I'd be an idiot to believe him.
His phone buzzes suddenly and he picks it up, watching me the whole time.
"Alright I'll be there," he says, not breaking eye contact. Once he ends the call, he finishes his drink and gets up. "I have to head out for a bit. Make your self at home. The outdoors are off limits for safety reasons and someone will come set up the bed in the guest room soon."
I nod solemnly, too distracted to focus on his words.
You are absoluteperfection.
This is dangerous. His words, his lies, his smile...it affects me more than anyone ever has and none of it is true. He's using me for his benefit and I need to escape. I need to leave this place before I've fallen too deep, before it's too late.