Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
ELLIE
I wake from an amazing dream where I’m lying on a tropical island surrounded by blissful solitude. I have a smile on my face that quickly disappears when I don’t see my usual view.
Where am I?
I sit, blinking furiously in the hope I’m still dreaming, but as I pinch myself, the pain tells me I’m not.
My eyes widen as I stare around a room straight out of the fairytale books.
It’s all in white.
I mean, every single thing in this room is white.
Did I die?
Is this heaven because it’s certainly looking that way?
The bed I’m lying on is so comfortable I could be sitting on a cloud.
The silk sheets rest against the palm of my hand and caress my skin. The drapes at the window are white silk and the chandelier above my head sparkles as the light filters through and catches on the crystals.
White walls, white carpet and white furniture.
There is zero color in this room, and I blink in astonishment. Along with the color, even the dust must be white because the surfaces gleam as if they are freshly polished and the heady scent of white roses fills the air.
This must be paradise.
My kind of paradise and even as the memory resurfaces of my last movements, I still can’t stop gazing in wonder at the freaking room.
As I shake my head, I edge to the side of the bed and my bare feet curl in the luxurious white rug. I moan with delight because there is something so intoxicating about the way it’s caressing my weary feet.
I struggle to remember the events that led me here. I was walking. I’d been fired. It all comes crashing back up to the point I stumbled against someone and then remember nothing else.
Was I in a traffic collision and killed? Is this the halfway house to heaven and through those doors is the sheer drop to hell?
I’m so confused and then my eyes rest on the glass of water on the table beside the bed, along with a couple of white pills in a small crystal dish. There is a small white card, almost like a place name, which merely says ,
Take these for your headache.
Instinctively, my fingers rest against my temple and the dull ache inside tells me whoever left these knew I’d feel like shit when I woke up.
Was I drugged?
What happened to me?
The fact I’m fully clothed is a welcome realization, meaning whoever brought me here obviously left me in this room. But why? I don’t understand and as I reach for the pills it strikes me that it may not be the best thing. What if this is more of the same? Something to make me sleep. I must be on my guard because whatever happened back there on the crowded sidewalk is definitely not good. I already sense that and so I ignore the painkillers and stand instead, grateful that my legs appear to be working.
I wander around the room in awe, marveling at the white sculptures and white paintings that are mere splashes of different shades of white paint. Somehow, they form a beautiful white flower and I shiver inside. Roses.
How I hate that flower.
My mouth is dry and I peer longingly at the glass of water, but until I know where I am and who brought me here, I’m leaving nothing to chance.
I edge toward the window and, as I peel back the drapes, I am met with a hard shutter that appears to be locked from the outside. The smallest crack in the wood allows the light to filter through, but that is the only indication there is civilization outside.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps outside and my heart lurches. Who is it? It must be the person who abducted me and I should prepare to fight for my freedom .
I glance around the room with wild energy because my inner voice is screaming at me to get the hell out of here.
My hand rests on a small white sculpture made of what appears to be stone and as I hold it behind me, I attempt to get my breathing under control.
As the door opens, I stare at the man who enters and swallow hard.
This is not looking good.
He is a beast of a man. Dressed entirely in black, his dark gaze sweeping the room and across my shaking body in a nanosecond. He has a malevolent gleam in his eye and a scar running the length of his face, which I am trying hard not to admire because he has a cruel beauty that fascinates me.
His dark hair is slightly long and his black eyes gleam as he says roughly, “Miss Adams.”
My fingers curl around the statue that I’m holding behind my back and before I can answer him, he says angrily, “Put the fucking statue down. It costs more than your life is worth.”
“What?”
I’m shocked as he nods toward the mirror behind me on the wall. “If you’re going to arm yourself with the element of surprise, don’t stand in front of a fucking floor-to-ceiling mirror.”
My hands shake as I set the statue back on the table and my voice wobbles as I whisper, “Who are you?”
“Luka. That is all you need to know.”
He peers around the room and his eyes rest on the pills beside the bed and he says with exasperation, “Take the fucking pills, Miss Adams. Your head will thank you for it.”
“But they could be drugs. I’m not taking them.”
“Of course they’re drugs.” He rolls his eyes. “Drugs are usually used to cure.”
“But–”
“Advil, Miss Adams. Take them and follow me. ”
“Where?”
He nods toward the table and raises his eyes, shifting so his jacket falls open, revealing a large weapon strapped against his side.
He frowns as I jump to attention and grab the pills, chucking them down my throat, and washing them down with the ice cold water.
“Follow me.”
“Where?”
I really wish my voice would shut the fuck up because every word I speak only antagonizes him more.
He says nothing and merely points to the door and as I tentatively move toward it, he heads through before me.
My heart thumps because this could be my only way out of here and I should take note of where I am, along with any exits, potential weapons, and methods of escape, because one thing is certain, this man means business.
As I follow him, I gaze in awe at my surroundings, noting the theme continues. White is absolutely everywhere, and it almost blinds me. Chic elegance with zero color. Almost as if the owner of this house couldn’t decide on a color palette and opted out of the decision. The only dark thing in this house is the man striding purposefully in front of me and against my better judgment, I say tentatively, “What’s happening? Where am I?”
The bastard ignores me and I scurry to keep up with him, wondering if I should attempt to run the other way because it’s doubtful he would see me, anyway. He hasn’t looked back once, but then I am reminded he sees everything courtesy of the mirrors that are dotted around like ornamental security cameras.
He leads me down a huge white marble staircase and I see nothing but white before my eyes and as we step onto the white marbled floor, I am really beginning to detest the color white.
Would it kill them to add a splash of color here and there? I mean, what is this place?
My eager eyes search for an exit and yet all I find are endless closed doors that don’t appear to be the main ones. This is a rabbit warren, and I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to that delightful room if I tried.
We finally stop outside another white door, glazed with glass that obscures the view inside. My nerves are on edge when he pushes it open and says shortly, “Your guest, Boss.”
Boss? Who is this and as he stands to one side and I move past him into the room, I really wish I was anywhere else but here because the man staring at me with an angry glare scares the freaking pants off me.