Chapter Fifteen
Romy
B uzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I wake with a pounding headache and cotton mouth. Light pours in from a window, blinding me when I attempt to open my eyes. The buzzing sound continues. I can almost feel it vibrating.
Sudden awareness chases away my hangover.
It’s a phone.
I sit up, squinting against the harsh light to locate it. It seems to be buried under the sheets somewhere. Finally, my hand touches the cool, rectangular device.
Snatching it up, I realize it’s my phone. The next thing that occurs to me is that over a month has passed since the date of my kidnapping.
Over a freaking month.
Oh my God.
I’d been confused about how many days had passed, but I didn’t realize it had been so many—that I’d missed Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Black Friday. It’s now December, for crying out loud. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around this.
I wait for my brain to catch up. I’m in Caius’s bed, but he’s not here. My jeans are gone, but the rest of my clothes remain. When he drugged me last night, at least he didn’t rape me.
Since I appear to be alone, I slip out of the bed with my phone and tiptoe into the closet. Once the door is shut, I find a place in the corner to sit. I have a missed call from…Caius.
What?
Since when do I have him programmed into my phone?
A text comes through.
Caius: Don’t sleep all day. I’ll be back to pick you up before dinner. Put some effort into it. Wear the red dress I like.
His arrogance is my undoing. I hate that man. I hate everything he’s putting me through.
Rather than respond to him, I try to call Dad, then Bastian, and finally Eve. No one answers.
I shoot Bastian a text.
Me: Call me ASAP.
My family must be so worried. It’s been so long with no contact with them. I’m aching to tell Bastian I’ve been kidnapped and being held by the Crownes, but intuition tells me not to. Something is strange about all this. Why would they just hand over my phone?
Carefully, I inspect each icon on my phone. One of my social media apps looks different as though an update was done. I never update the thing, so it means someone else has been on here.
Of course they have.
They put Caius’s number into the phone. There’s no telling what else they did.
To be sure, I scroll through my contacts and find both Gareth and Theo on the list. I’m curious to see if I’ve corresponded with them before, but first things first. I need to know where the hell I’m at.
When I pull up the weather app, it shows the temperature for Bella Coola. Twenty-nine degrees.
I’ve never heard of this place before.
A quick Google search tells me I’m in a small town between the Bella Coola River and the Noohalk Mountain.
In British Columbia.
Freaking Canada!
Panic claws at me as I wonder how in the hell they managed to get me here. Did they drive over the border? Did they put me on a private plane? How does a woman get taken from a bar in San Francisco and end up in Canada?
A low whine crawls up my throat.
I can’t just escape on foot and disappear. I’m in some reclusive area where there may not be people for miles and miles. The gravity of my situation is beginning to finally set in.
Frantically, I try to call my family again. No one answers. Tears of despair streak down my cheeks as I also try to call my therapist. Again, no answer.
I send Bastian several texts in a row.
Me: Help me!
Me: I’ve been kidnapped!
Me: I’m in Bella Coola in Canada in a giant lodge in the mountains. The Crownes took me!
I wait for him to respond.
Nothing.
My tears turn into full-bodied sobs until I’m hiccupping and can hardly breathe. I have a breakdown in this closet that smells like my main nemesis, Caius Crowne.
I’m not sure how long I cry for, but eventually the sobs turn into whimpers that turn into me staring at my phone in my hand. My body feels numb, and my eyes burn.
Once I’m composed, I try sending a text to Theo.
Me: I see you came through on getting me the phone.
His response is immediate.
Theo: I put in a good word. You owe me.
He follows his text with a winking emoji.
Me: Will you be at dinner? Caius is coming to get me later.
Theo: I’ll be there.
Relief floods through me. It’s absolutely ridiculous that I find comfort in knowing Theo will be at dinner with us. He was responsible for kidnapping me and I somehow feel safe knowing he’ll be joining us. I’m reminded of a romance book I read once where the girl fell in love with her captor. They called it Stockholm syndrome in the book.
I force in a few deep and steady breaths. I’m not in love with Theo or anyone. I am, though, going to use his attraction toward me as a way to keep me safe.
Since I have my phone, I do a deep dive on the Crownes to obtain as much information as possible. Unfortunately, there’s nothing juicy. It’s all surface-level and generic.
Once I’ve calmed down, I decide to go snooping before a much-needed shower. This is Caius’s home. There’s bound to be something useful to uncover.
Fear of getting caught immobilizes me. It takes a few deep breaths to give me the courage to go looking. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ve already been drugged and tossed in a cage under the floor. Does it get worse than that?
Searching for my anger, deep beneath the flood of fear, I latch my hooks into it, dragging it to the surface.
They’ve taken me, traumatized me, and are now trying to brainwash me. I may have mental issues, but I’m not weak or stupid. I refuse to be manipulated into being something I’m not.
I just have to not get lost in their lies.
I can’t forget who I am.
Lifting my chin, I exhale and then yank on a pair of sweats before exiting the closet. The house is quiet aside from the sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen. I can smell something savory that makes my stomach growl. Yesterday, through Theo, I learned Caius has private chefs who prepare all his meals, but they’re paid handsomely to “be seen and not heard.” The chefs aren’t going to help me out of this hellhole. I have to help myself.
It only takes a few minutes of exploring rooms I haven’t been in yet to discover Caius’s office. The space isn’t as large as I would have imagined. A single desk sits in front of an unlit fireplace and faces the window that overlooks an idyllic wintery forest scene. I guess even monsters can appreciate a lovely view.
His desk is bare aside from an engraved pen that says, “Crowne Unity Project,” in a bold, stately font. I sit down in his chair and open the slender tray drawer. Inside are more pens, neatly lined in a row. Beside them are a pair of incredibly sharp scissors, a notepad, and a container filled with paperclips. It’s all so orderly. I’m tempted to take the scissors to use as a weapon, but brute strength—which I most certainly do not have—isn’t going to get me out of here.
This is a game of wits.
Outlast, outsmart, outplay.
Nothing more than a complicated puzzle to quickly be pieced together.
There are two drawers, both of them locked. I’m not convinced I can pick them with the paperclips, so I don’t bother.
Tell me all your secrets, Caius…
I sit back in his desk chair and survey the room. An entire wall is a built-in bookshelf completely filled with books. They’re probably in alphabetical order. He seems the super-particular type. It makes me want to rearrange them all to see if he would notice.
Kind of like he’s been doing all along to screw with your head, Romy.
I’m distracted from the bookshelf when an idea forms. I quickly reopen the tray drawer and pull out the notepad. With a flip through it, I learn there’s nothing but blank pages, but I know I can figure out the last thing he wrote down.
My heart leaps in my chest as I push the chair back and head toward the fireplace with the notepad. I sit down on the rock hearth and dip my index finger into the leftover ash. Then, I lightly dust over the notebook page. A grin tugs at my lips as I begin to see letters form. Caius writes with a firm hand, so the indentation leftover has left clues for me.
V.
E.
I.
L.
VEIL.
I stare at the letters, knowing exactly what they mean. Veil Media Group, or VMG, is the global media conglomerate my father owns. I’m sure it didn’t take long for the Crownes to discover just how powerful my family is. It’s apparent that’s why I’m in this situation, being manipulated into believing I’m dating Caius. They’re trying hard to cover up Theo’s mistake. How many others have slipped into the Crowne trap but have no power in this world?
Megan.
She’s just a nobody to them.
Someone they can take advantage of and make disappear.
I don’t know why, but I’m going to find out.
Continuing my dusting along the page, another word stands out.
Calista.
Another company or program or a name?
There’s nothing else useful on my search, nor do the other pages reveal anything. After cleaning my finger on my pants, I tear off the dirtied page on top. The notebook gets placed back into the drawer, but I hold onto the paper.
I make my way over to the bookshelf and peruse the books there. There are several military strategy and political books, an entire set of ancient encyclopedias, a few books written in foreign languages, and even a book on the Illuminati.
It makes me wonder if anyone decided to take on that conspiracy theory for our class project. Seems like eons ago that I was sitting in class, the only worry on my mind being that I had to go back to New York for Christmas.
A book on propaganda and psychological warfare catches my eye. I pull it from its spot and thumb through it. It’s filled with clinical case studies of manipulation tactics used by the government, military, and media. Caius probably has the thing memorized. I fold the piece of notebook paper and place it on the chapter that’s called “Psychological Operations AKA Psyop.” Then I place the book back on the shelf upside down between two other books.
If he wants to mess with me, I’ll do the same to him.
Drug me all you want, Caius, but you’ll never fully erase me.
Feeling better than I have since I woke up, I make my way back to the bedroom. The time for crying and feeling sorry for myself is over. They may have control over my phone, but my mind is too complicated for them to twist to their nefarious desires. I’m not some case study in the book—a mindless sheep who sleeps in a den of wolves.
I’m calculating and strategic.
I like to win.
Which is why I’m changing tactics starting now. No more defense. Only offense from here on out.
After a long, hot shower, where I shaved and exfoliated every part of me, I put on a full face of makeup and spend a lot of time perfectly styling my hair into bouncy golden locks.
The dress Caius asked me to wear is the only red one in the closet. It’s form-fitting and sexy, with a scoop neck that reveals my perky breasts and a long slit up the side that shows off my smooth leg. I pluck the tag off the dress and smirk.
His favorite dress I’ve never worn.
Liar.
It’s satisfying knowing I’m not completely crazy. This small confirmation is enough to give me all the confidence I need to face these monsters. I place the tag on top of his dresser in the closet next to a tray of cufflinks where Caius won’t miss the message.
What is my message to the cold snake of a man?
I’m onto your games.
You can’t be sloppy on your details around me because everything is a clue, filed away in my complicated brain, to be mined later and used while at war with you.
Sloppiness is for losers, Caius.