CHAPTER 25
My heart is still pounding as I walk down the street. But despite the pulsing fear, I feel this reckless desire to run back—give myself up to the beast and let it consume me. Janos wants me, and he wants me bad, but he can’t have me, and I don’t dare to find out what the consequences will be—for us both—if Janos does something stupid.
So I shove the pulsing desire down and force my attention to my surroundings as I head for the river.
November has turned the city into an entirely different vision than the one that greeted me when I arrived here in the spring. Back then, everything was new. Flowers burst from the soil, and green buds covered the trees. The whole city radiated hope and life. It seems like a distant memory now. A lifetime ago. But really, it’s only been seven months.
Four months since the first night Janos broke into my apartment.
But despite all the horrors this city has brought me, I’ve come to appreciate it again, like I did in those first three months before my world crumbled anew.
Fall hasn’t robbed the city of its beauty. It has simply transformed it.
The trees and bushes shine with bright red, yellow, and orange colors, and a few flimsy clouds float along a clear sky, disintegrating into white brush strokes on a blue canvas.
It’s as beautiful as the youthful spring, if not even more so.
Since I have plenty of time to spare, I go out on the Chain Bridge to watch the water. The river is peaceful today. Dark blue and glittering. But the water doesn’t beckon me the same way it so often has, and I keep my feet planted on the concrete while admiring the sight.
As I go back to solid ground, I pull my scarf closer around my neck. The sun might be out, but the temperature is freezing. But I don’t care. With my new coat and scarf, which I bought on an impulsive shopping trip, I can handle the chill.
On my way home from work yesterday, I saw this pretty dark green dress in a shop window, and I went straight in and bought it—along with a new coat and a warm scarf. Stepping into that store was like discovering the TV anew, and since I’ve barely spent a penny for months, I could afford to splurge a little.
I considered saving the money instead, in case I somehow escape this nightmare and have to start over, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it came. I can no longer imagine a life someplace else, where I’m free and my own. The idea simply doesn’t add up, so I try to live in the present and enjoy whatever small things I can. Including this new job opportunity.
When I step onto the boat, a young woman with a German accent greets me. I give her a genuine smile as hope swells inside me. Maybe my lacking Hungarian won’t be a problem after all.
She leads me into the long dining room that must take up most of the space on the boat. Large windows stretch along both sides, lending a perfect view of the water. It’s so close. I can almost feel it stirring beneath me. I pause to gaze out at the sparkling blue, and a delightful sensation stirs within me as I realize I can indeed feel it in the slight rocking of the boat.
A man with a stylish brown haircut, clean-shaven jaw, and eyes as blue as the water gets up from one of the tables to greet me. He’s not much older than me. Maybe early thirties. But he bears himself with the confidence of a man who knows himself and has found his place in life.
When the corners of his mouth tip up in a warm smile, I realize I’m all but beaming. I must look like a child in a candy shop, and that’s how I feel here on the water.
“András Káldy.” He offers me his hand, and the smile lingers at the corners of his eyes. “You must be Rebecca. Thank you for calling.” The English words slip effortlessly off his tongue like he’s been speaking the language for many years.
He looks polished and sophisticated with his black slacks and blue polo that brings out the color of his eyes. He’s clearly well off, but he doesn’t carry his wealth in the same arrogant manner so many other rich men do. Rather, he seems friendly and amiable. Down to earth.
I take his hand, feeling a tinge of heat in my cheeks as I force my grin into a normal, polite smile.
“Please have a seat.” Sitting down at the table, he gestures to the chair across from him. “Tea or coffee?” he asks as he hands me a mug.
“Tea, thanks.” With a careful smile, I take the tea box he hands me and fish out a bag of mint tea.
“I understand you’ve been working for Izsák a bit farther down the river.” He unscrews the lid on a white thermos carafe and pours steaming water into my mug.
I manage to stop the grimace that wants to unfurl over my face at the mention of my former boss. “Yes, half a year or so.” Shame tightens my jaw as I lower my gaze to see the water darken as I dunk the tea bag up and down. I hate that I can’t give him a higher number.
“Did you like it? It’s quite a change of profession, I have to say.” He glances down at my resume. “Going from an office job, handling administration.”
“Yes, well…” I meet his eyes again and hesitate.
“I mean, I’m not asking if you liked working for Iszák,” András hurriedly adds. “That man is very difficult to like,” he says half to himself. “I’m asking if you liked the job—working in a restaurant?”
It’s hard not to smile. He seems like a man used to being in charge and must have held many job interviews, yet there’s no stiffness or excessive formality. He speaks straight from the heart instead of bringing each word through a fine-meshed filter.
“Working in an office never really was my thing. But yes, I liked working at the restaurant. At least most of the time. It could be quite monotonous since I was always on clean-up duty.” I bite my lips as I realize my answer might be a bit too honest.
András’s brow furrows. “It’s nothing like that here. We make sure our employees get to rotate. Serve food, help in the kitchen, and serve customers. There’s also clean-up duty, of course. That’s the less fun part. But we’re not hiring a cleaning lady.”
I give him a tentative smile and glance down to break eye contact, then lift my mug to take a small sip of the hot tea. I’m not good at this. But when I look up again, András is watching me with curiosity, a warm smile glinting in his eyes.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat and taps a pen on the table. “You’re just so different than all the other girls who come here.” He averts his gaze to the papers in front of him, then switches back into professional mode as he meets my eyes again. “I’d love to know more about your office job. What did a normal day look like?”
“Um…” I set the mug down and gaze out at the water as I try to clear my head of the strange interaction. It takes a couple of staggered sentences before I can speak in a fluent stream, telling him about the different administrative tasks, and before long, I find myself relaxing, my hands moving freely as I answer András’s different questions.
He seems pleased by it all, and I have a good feeling. That is, until we get to the language part and I have to profess that I don’t speak Hungarian. It doesn’t seem to be a deal breaker, but even though András clearly likes to hear that I’m fluent in both English and German, he also can’t hide that my lacking Hungarian is a drawback.
When we say goodbye and he tells me I’ll hear from him in a couple of days, the waitress leads a young woman with a friendly smile in. The two women exchange a few words in German before the interviewee greets András in fluent Hungarian.
There goes that job.
***
When I get back to the apartment, I’m on the verge of tears. Half a year ago, I wouldn’t have felt this shitty knowing my chances of getting the job are slim. After all, I did much better than I could have hoped, and the reason I probably won’t get the job is beyond my control. But everything in my life is so hopeless that this is yet another blow to the stomach. And I haven’t even gotten a rejection yet.
I hate my job at Tesco, and the prospect of something better has made me detest it even more. The job on the boat wouldn’t just be better. It would be a tremendous step up. The moment I stepped onto the boat, I knew it was the right place for me. The boss was even nice. And I actually thought I had a shot.
Until that girl came in.
Janos comes into the hall and gives me a once over before taking my hand and leading me into the living room.
“Sit,” he says, pulling out a chair. I drop onto it and slump my shoulders as I stare at the floor, listening to his steps disappear into the kitchen. I stay there, frozen in place, until he returns with a huge portion of food, big enough to feed both of us. Chicken paprikash, I note as the scent drifts through the air, making my mouth water. I love this dish. But when he takes a seat in front of me and holds a spoonful to my lips, I can’t open my mouth. He has fed me like this countless times, but suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. Today, it’s a blaring reminder of all the things I’ve lost—all the control and decisions over my own life. I don’t even get to eat my own food anymore.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, averting my gaze.
“Have you eaten on your way back?”
I shake my head, unable to lie to him despite knowing he’d let me off if I said yes.
He sets the food aside and gets up. I haven’t fought him on this for a while, and I’m sure he’s pissed that I’m starting on this again. Fear churns in my stomach when I watch his back disappear into the hallway.
Is he leaving?
Hopelessness floods my system, and I think I’m about to break into tears as shivers spread through my body. But then Janos reappears. The air swooshes into my lungs, and I’m so relieved I think I’m going to cry anyway.
Anythingwill make me cry at this point. That’s how broken I am. But it’s neither the hopelessness nor relief that finally has tears pooling in my eyes. It’s the sight of the ropes in his hands.
Irrational gratitude swells in my chest. I can’t believe I’m grateful for the prospect of more helplessness, but somehow, I am.
He sinks to his haunches behind me, and tears spill down my cheeks as he winds the gruff material around my wrists. A heavy weight lifts from my chest as my freedom slips out of my hands and into his—like losing control makes me freer than anything else can.
It’s a fucked-up reaction, but I remind myself I’ve always been like this, needing to have all control stripped away to truly feel like myself. It’s not the trauma I’ve undergone here that has made me like this. But there’s no relief to be found in the knowledge. If anything, it only makes me feel worse, knowing I’ve always been broken. I used to tell myself I’m not wrong for wanting these things, but I can’t do that anymore. It’s an inherent fault within me—a broken wire.
I’m unable to face Janos when he takes the chair in front of me again. Not wanting him to see how deep my brokenness runs, I keep my head lowered as tears drip into my lap like gentle rain.
But when he swipes his thumb across my cheek to catch the tears, I can’t hide anymore. Two devastating words slip from my lips to reveal how I feel. “Thank you.”
I cringe at the words, hating that he can see how broken I am. But I think he already knows. He’s known all along that the ropes calm the turmoil in my brain. He knows that being helpless turns me on as much as it frightens me—and maybe turns me on because it frightens me.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, curving his hand around my cheek.
Shocked, I look up. It can’t be true. He can’t mean it.
But what I find in his expression is genuine affection. He does find me beautiful.
I have no idea how. I’m broken from the inside out. At my lowest. Without hope. Tears are streaking down my cheeks, surely dragging black lines across my skin from the mascara I thought would brighten my face.
As I keep watching him, I know he means it, and the how becomes irrelevant.
We sit like this for several minutes, staring at each other, locked in a strange kind of intimacy. His thumb makes a few light strokes across my cheek, catching the quiet tears and soothing the brokenness in my soul. The caresses pull me deeper into his spell, and when he picks up the spoon again, I willingly open my mouth.
My tears run faster as defeat crashes into my system, but somewhere along the way as he keeps feeding me, the feeling fades. Left is only intimacy. Stark and potent. A closeness that can’t be paralleled in kisses or passionate sex. I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I do to Janos at this very moment. There’s something deeply vulnerable about being forced to give in—letting him control something as basic as food while I sit there, bound and broken, tears streaming down my cheeks as I stare into his willful eyes. No safewords or outs. It’s the truest kind of submission that could ever exist. It fills me to the brim. So much I can’t stop myself from thanking him again once the plate is empty.
Janos doesn’t reply, but I feel him studying me as I lower my gaze.
A minute passes in silence, our breaths the only sound between us. Then, gently, he nudges my chin up, guiding my eyes to his. “How did the job interview go?”
“Fine,” I mutter. “But the girl after me was more qualified, so I don’t think I’ll get it.” I swallow past a thick knot in my throat, trying to keep the new wave of defeat down, but it’s too strong. A mournful sound escapes me, and then I’m weeping, my chest shaking as grief tears through my body.
In a moment of clarity, I see myself from the outside. My vulnerability written in my puffy eyes and on my mascara-stained cheeks. My broken soul is on full display. I can’t take it—him seeing it all. I yank at the ropes, trying to hide my face, and the helplessness rips a sob from the depth of my stomach. I keep jerking and writhing, and with each fruitless attempt, the grief goes deeper.
Janos shoots up from the chair and sinks to his haunches behind me to remove the ropes. But I can’t stop twisting and jerking, tightening the knots, and he can’t get them up. The metallic sound of a switchblade popping open makes a sharp click behind me, and Janos locks my hands into place with a tight grip as he shoves the blade under the ropes and rips the knife up. With two more cuts, my hands are free, and Janos hoists me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he carries me to the bedroom.
I cling to his neck, hiding my misery even as I expose it to him. As he lies down on the bed with me, I find I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to lay it all out there and let him carry the burden with me. And so I do. I weep like a child as he holds me, and the grief is a little less devastating as he presses soft kisses to my temple and swipes his thumb across my cheeks to catch the endless tears.
Time slips away unnoticed until my energy runs dry and I go still. The tears stop, and my sobs fade to shuddery breaths. Exhaustion sets in, dragging me into a strange void between the conscious and the unconscious.
“You’ll get the job,” Janos whispers, stroking his hand along my arm.
I push out from his chest to search his face for signs of false reassurances, but his expression is as serious as his tone.
“You don’t know that,” I say.
He grabs my jaw and leans so close all I can see are his eyes. “You’ll get the job.”
I swallow the knot in my throat and nod. Because I know Janos doesn’t lie. He either lays out the full truth, however hard, or keeps quiet. So even knowing he can’t guarantee this, I allow myself to find comfort in his words.
When he releases my chin and lays his head back on the pillow, there’s a rare kind of openness in his expression, like the intimacy has affected him as much as it has me. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I also badly need answers, and this is a rare opportunity. So I take it.
“Does Gabor have other... girls?” I ask.
He simply shakes his head.
“But there have been many others like me, right?”
“Yes.” Janos reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear, trailing his fingertips across my skin as he goes. “He sticks to one at a time.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “That’s how obsession works.”
“Are you always the one in charge of his girls?”
“Yes.”
I want to ask if he lets the others sleep in his lap, if he hand-feeds them, and if he stays with them when they’re broken and scared. But I’m afraid to hear the answer, so I ask something else. “Why do you always bring that scrawny guy?”
Janos’s nose twitches as a trace of disgust passes over his features. When he remains silent, I think I chose the wrong question and ruined my chance of getting more information. But then he answers. “Gabor wants two men—to make sure everything runs smoothly. Two men can subdue a defiant girl quicker than one.”
I hate how he uses the word girl. Like I’m just another victim he has to deliver to his boss. But I know I’m more to him. I’m not just a job. At least not anymore. I have more than plenty of proof by now, yet it takes everything I have to convince myself that I’m not just another girl. That’s how broken my mind is. The evidence might be right in front of me, clear as day, yet it’s hard to see.
We are both quiet for a while before I move on to a new question. “Why don’t you like him?”
“Who?”
“The scrawny man.”
Again, there’s that twitch of his nose, like we’re talking about a rat that should be exterminated. “I don’t like the way he handles you.”
“Then why did you let him…” My voice trembles as I recall the harrowing month when I only felt cold, mechanical hands on my body. “For a whole month.”
His eyes darken with anger unlike any I’ve seen in him before. Grabbing my hip, he yanks me to him, knocking the air from my lungs as I collide with his chest. “Because you’re fucking with my mind.”
He bites down on my shoulder with a force that draws a yelp from me and shoves everything out of my mind before I can process his words. I whimper as his teeth dig into my muscles, yet I can’t help arching into him. He meets me with his hips, pressing his erection against my pussy, and my whimpers turn to moans.
God, I want you.The words hover on my lips, but before I can voice them, he pulls away.
Coldness crackles along my heated skin and intensifies the throbbing pain in my shoulder. I press my hand to the aching spot as I watch him disappear into the hallway, toward the living room.
Confusion creeps into my muddled mind, and loneliness clashes with the urge for more—his touch, any touch to relieve the pulsing need between my legs.
I clench my thighs, fighting off the urge to slip my fingers through the moisture down there. Humiliation would only worsen the loneliness if Janos were to come find me masturbating.
To distract myself, I go take a shower and use the time under the hot spray to try to make sense of what just happened. What he said. His apparent hatred for the scrawny man.
I rack my brain to remember the words he said just before he dug his teeth into my neck. Why would he keep bringing the other man if he doesn’t like him? He could surely find someone else, and I’m sure Gabor wouldn’t mind getting someone more competent to “subdue the girl.”
Then I remember his words. You’re fucking with my mind. I pause and stare at the white tile, my hands deep in my hair full of shampoo. The constant blur of my self-deprecating thoughts draws back to allow me a moment of clarity.
Janos isn’t mad at the scrawny man. He’s mad at himself for staying away.
It makes perfect sense. He cares about me even though he shouldn’t. And this attraction is dangerous. So he tried to distance himself—make me into just another girl to protect himself. But then Gabor offered me up to him, and his resolve broke. So now he’s here all the time, taking care of me in his own fucked up way because he cares.