Chapter 9 Jordan
JORDAN
Okay Jordan, don't panic. You need to stay calm. You need to stay in control, even though you feel like you don't have any right now.
I mean, I'm in a car with Romanians who all happen to have guns. And I was just basically kidnapped but, hey, maybe there's a silver lining.
Ugh, I fucking doubt it.
I've hit him and thrown a water bottle at him, and he hasn't hit me or pulled a gun on me. I'm still conscious, as he mentioned, so there's that.
He did grab my throat, but it wasn't too forceful, and I was able to breathe, so if he is psychotic, and he probably is, he doesn't seem like he really wants to kill me. Yet.
I almost laugh to myself, sitting here trying to rationalize all this.
You know what? It's fine. I'll get to where I'm going.
Call Lindsey. Drop a pin, and she can come get me.
Or do I call the police? Yeah, like they'd even listen to me.
Judging from how Matei here kills people and breaks down doors, I don't think I'd get anywhere but on his bad side, and something tells me I don't want that.
I refocus my vision on our surroundings. We're climbing now, the roads winding through neighborhoods I recognize. This area is full of wealth and fame. I don't think this Romanian is famous, so he must be wealthy.
Very wealthy, judging by how each house seems to be getting bigger than the last, and the gates get taller and taller.
The SUV slows, turning onto a private road. My stomach drops as we approach a set of iron gates that swing open automatically. Beyond them, the driveway curves through manicured lawns toward a house that looks more like a museum than a home.
Massive doesn't even cover it.
White stone, huge windows glowing with warm light, columns flanking the entrance like something that belongs on a Greek island. My breath catches, and I hate that, even in this moment, part of me is impressed.
The SUV rolls to a stop in front of the entrance, and Matei opens his door without a word.
I don't move.
He leans back in, his dark eyes settling on me with the same weight as his hands on my throat. "Get out."
I cross my arms over my chest and refuse. He talks briefly and then reaches in and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the SUV in one smooth motion.
I pull away from him and stumble, my knees hitting the ground, and the gravel bites into my palms. He bends down to help me, and I slap his hand away.
"Don't touch me."
He ignores me. Of course he does. He grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet. His grip is firm but not bruising, and I jerk away the second I'm standing.
"Let's go inside," he says firmly.
I challenge him, and he doesn't even give me a response, just gestures toward the front door, where two men stand waiting. They're both armed, their suits black and their expressions blank.
I hesitate, my gaze darting around. The driveway is too long to run. The gates are closed behind us now. Even if I made it halfway, those men would catch me. I could start screaming, but would anyone hear me?
My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath, forcing my legs to move.
I start walking, and Matei walks behind me. I don't like that I can't see him, but he's probably doing it on purpose. Keeping me off balance and scared.
It's working.
The two men by the door open it as we approach. I stop and hesitate at the front door, and I feel a hand on my back nudge me forward, and I step inside.
The entrance is huge, all bright lights and light-colored marble that gleams under a large chandelier decorated with crystals. Large staircases wind up on each side, curving toward a hallway that overlooks the foyer. That weird type of expensive artwork lines the walls, and everything smells fresh.
It's beautiful in a terrifying kind of way.
We walk forward, the men's dress shoes tapping against the marble as we walk, and right when we're in the middle of this ridiculously large foyer, a man comes around the corner.
"Matei," he says, his voice carrying a faint accent.
Matei stops, and I hear the surprise in his voice. "Adrian?"
He walks past me without a glance, and the two of them start talking in Romanian. Their words are rapid, and while I can't understand any of it, I catch the tension in Matei's posture. He looks surprised.
The other man, Adrian, I guess, is younger than Matei, maybe late twenties, with dark hair that's a little too long for my taste, but he's got that whole careless style thing going on I know girls like.
He's dressed in a black suit, but his shirt's unbuttoned and his tie is gone, and there's something restless about him, like he's holding himself together with sheer will.
He nods toward me, and Matei turns, his gaze flicking over me like he forgot I was there.
He says something in Romanian to someone behind me, and suddenly a hand closes around my arm.
I flinch, spinning to find another man who starts pulling me toward the stairs, and I dig my heels in.
"Wait," Matei says, and the man stops.
Matei walks over and grabs the man's arm. "Nu o atinge."
The man releases my arm and bows his head. I don't know what he says, but I'm sure it translates to I'm sorry.
Matei stares at him for a second with a scary look and then yanks my purse out of my grasp.
"You won't need this now," he says, his tone dismissive.
Shit. My phone is in there.
"Wait," I start, but Matei turns and walks away, disappearing down a hallway with Adrian.
"Move," the man says, pointing up the stairs.
We climb the staircase, and the man makes sure not to touch me. I glance back, but all I see is an empty area, Matei's voice echoing from somewhere in the house.
We reach the top, and the hallway stretches out before us, lined with more artwork in heavy gold frames. The rugs are thick under my feet, muffling our steps, and the lights automatically turn on as we move down an endless hallway.
"Where are you taking me?" I ask, knowing he won't answer me.
He doesn't.
I try again, louder this time. "I said, where are you taking me?"
Still nothing.
We stop in front of a door halfway down the hall. He opens it and nods toward the darkness inside.
"Inside," he says, his accent thicker than Matei's.
I hesitate, peering into the room. Save for the moonlight coming through a window, I can't see much. Maybe the outline of a bed, a dresser, a chair in the corner.
"I'm not..."
He steps closer, and I flinch back, my pulse spiking.
"Inside," he repeats, his tone flat.
I take a breath and step inside. The second I turn around, the door shuts, and I hear the lock click into place.
I lunge forward, grabbing the handle and yanking. It doesn't budge.
"Hey!" I pound on the door, my fists hitting against the wood. "Let me out! You can't just lock me in here!"
Silence.
I slam my palm against the door one more time.
"Fuck you," I say, but I don't say it loud. It's more to myself, to trick me, like I'm actually putting up a fight.
I slide my hand down the door and turn back to the room. I fumble along the wall until I find a light switch.
The lights come on, and I blink against the sudden brightness.
The room is nice, as expected, I guess, given the house. A king-sized bed with white linens, a dresser made of dark wood, a plush armchair by the window. There's a door on the far wall, probably a bathroom, and another that might be a closet.
It looks like a guest room. A very expensive guest room.
I walk to the window and pull back the curtain. The grounds stretch out, dark and empty, except for the lights of the city in the distance.
I let the curtain fall and turn back to the room.
I've got no phone and no way out.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my hands trembling as I press them against my knees.
This is insane. This is completely insane.
Part of me is saying I should be terrified. I should be screaming, breaking things, trying to claw my way out.
But instead, I just sit there, staring at the locked door, with a racing mind.
Matei said I'd be staying here. He didn't say for how long. He didn't say why.
He just took me like I'm something he can collect.
My stomach twists, and I press my hands to my face, forcing myself to breathe. I need to think. I need to figure out what he wants, why he brought me here, how I can get out.
But all I can think about is the way he looked at me in the SUV and the way he said, No one's going to touch you. Not anymore.
Like he's protecting me from something. Or maybe getting rid of me. A witness. Maybe that's why I'm here. Because of the other night. It has to be.
Am I in trouble and I don't know it yet?
I stand abruptly, pacing to the door and back to the bed. My heart is pounding, my hands clenched into fists. I go between calmness and wanting to break that stupid picture above the bed, but I don't.
Because the truth is, I don't know what he'll do if I push him too far.
And I'm not ready to find out.
I walk to the bathroom door and push it open. The light turns on automatically, revealing a pristine space with white tile, a glass shower, and a vanity stocked with unopened toiletries. Everything is brand new, untouched, like it was waiting for me.
The thought makes my skin crawl.
I turn back to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed again, my mind spinning.
Lindsey. I need to get to Lindsey. If I can just get my phone back, I can call her, tell her where I am, and she can...
What? Again, the cops won't help. They're not going to storm a mansion in the Hollywood Hills on the word of a cam girl who works at a club.
I'd be dead before they even filed the report.
Think, Jordan. Think.
Matei doesn't seem like he wants to hurt me. He said so himself. And he hasn't, not really. He grabbed me, sure, but he didn't... I stop that thought before it goes any further.
He's dangerous. I know that. I saw what he did at the club, the way he looked at those men before he shot them, like it was nothing.
But with me, he seems like he's holding himself back.
I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse.
Either way, I need to figure this shit out because it's only a matter of time before he comes through that door again, and I need to be thinking clearly.
If I'm going to escape, I need to play the biggest acting role of my life, and it has to start now.