Chapter 19Monroe
19
Monroe
W hen the cat’s away, the mouse comes out to play.
I haven’t seen any of Zane’s guards inside the house since I came here. They’re all outside, pacing around the yard with rifles on their chests like this is a military complex. I don’t know if it makes me feel safer or more like a prisoner. Perhaps a safe prisoner.
Either way, this prisoner is about to discover all the secrets hidden in this giant mansion. With how large it is, there are bound to be things that Zane doesn't want anyone to know. He's a powerful man with a past, and his home holds the memories of everything that's ever happened here. There might literally be skeletons in the closet.
I start upstairs in the main hallway, looking for a locked door or a hidden passage. There are a lot of doors, but none of them are locked, and every single one is exactly what it's supposed to be. He doesn't use any of these rooms, but they're still furnished and ready to be used. It's odd.
I move on to the next floor, looking for anything that might give me a clue about who Zane is or what he does when no one's around. There's not a single piece of trash in this place. It's like he never eats, and his only hobby is drinking coffee and smoking cigars. Maybe he's just not home that often. I can see him being out a lot with the kind of work he does.
The more I explore, though, the more I realize that there are rooms that he uses, and he seems to be in them quite often. The library, for instance, has a carpet that’s so worn down from his shoes that I’m certain he spends every afternoon pacing there.
But that’s not the only place I find wear and tear. There’s a door that has a shiny brass handle, like it’s been polished by years of daily use. This room actually is locked, so I can’t get inside without a key.
Or without picking the lock.
It doesn't take me long to find a paperclip in one of the drawers downstairs. I come back and jiggle the clip around inside the lock until I hear the mechanism pop open. The door swings open, and all I can see is darkness.
My hand slides along the wall for a light switch, but there isn't one. The only source of light is the door behind me, so I'll have to feel my way around until I can figure out where the lights are.
I step into the room, feeling the soft carpet underneath my feet. I have a bad feeling, like I shouldn't be in here. There's this strange smell, oil and leather, but I can't figure out what exactly it is. The room is quiet, the silence broken only by the sound of my breathing.
My hands brush against a desk, and I lean forward, trying to get a sense of what's in here. Everything is pitch black, but it feels like an office. The leather smell is quite strong here, but it's more toward one corner of the room.
I pause at the desk, feeling around for a lamp or a light switch, but there isn't anything. My fingertips trace the top, and I realize it's a type of stone. Maybe a marble slab or something equally as expensive.
My hands slide down to the edge of the desk, and a wave of fear washes over me. I can hear my heart beating faster in my chest, and I'm sweating, cold and sticky. I swallow, feeling a lump forming in my throat.
I'm not alone in here.
"I see you've found my torture room," Zane's voice rumbles from behind me.
I wasn’t expecting him to be home so soon. He said he was going to investigate Maksim’s business, but he’s back and he smells like gasoline. What the hell is going on?
My entire body is shaking in the darkness as I watch the large shape of Zane’s muscular body move across the only source of light coming from the open door. He casts a long shadow down the carpeted floor, one that crawls up my legs and puts a chill down my spine.
I let out a nervous laugh. “Zane, I didn’t realize you were already home. I seem to have gotten lost.”
There’s a long silence, and he doesn’t move at all. “You’re not lost, darling,” he finally says, his voice deep and throaty. “You’re exactly where you belong.”
A red light comes on in the room, and suddenly, everything becomes crystal clear. This isn’t an office, or even a torture room. It’s a sex dungeon, and I’ve walked right up to a polished wooden bondage table.