5. Adriana
5
ADRIANA
Not desiring to have this awful scratchy underwear plastered to me a moment longer, I strip it off and then with a growl of rage I rip the disgusting, cheap panties right in half. That feels so good, and I do the same to the bra. I pull and tug at it until the seams tear, the elastic gives way, and it shreds in my hands.
I let the tattered remnants of my captivity float to the floor and kick them away from me, disgusted.
Completely naked now, I stare at myself in the full-length mirror on the far wall. I look thin. More so than usual. I'm slim built anyway and without food these past few days, I’m getting scrawny.
There’s a gaunt look to my face. My hip bones are more pronounced than they were previously. I look unwell and could probably strut a runway right now, and isn’t that an indictment of our beauty standards? Hey, you too can look like you belong on a catwalk; just get kidnapped and go unfed for a few days.
The pounding of the water behind me is too enticing to waste any more time looking at myself and thinking stupid thoughts, so I turn away from my troubling reflection and step into the shower.
It is heaven. Water hits my skin like rain in a storm, washing away the dirt of the last few days and the touch of those awful men. It washes away the scratchy feeling of the cheap underwear against my skin. I even pretend that it washes away my stepmother's betrayal and my father's weakness.
A sudden, terrible deep pain fills my chest as the ache of losing my mother expands and threatens to overwhelm me. Cade had filled the hole a little in my heart with his innocence, his cute little face, and the way he so openly told me repeatedly that he loved me. “I love you, Dreenana,” he’d lisp.
“Love you too, bug,” I’d say right back, kissing his hair.
I miss him. I miss my mum. Why did she have to die?
“No,” I say firmly. “Not now. You can't go down that grief rabbit hole now, girl. You need to keep yourself together.”
I can hear my mother in my head telling me to be strong. Telling me that she's watching over me. I can hear her telling me that you can't trust men, and look how right she was .
Whatever the reasons for her distrust, my mother always told me to be wary of men. She told me they couldn’t be trusted and that they wanted only one thing. She once screamed at a man who was staring at me on the bus.
Later, as I grew up, the stares were more frequent, and the catcalls started.
I was a bookish kid, and my glasses and staid wardrobe meant the boys at school saw me as a geek, but that didn’t stop men twice my age from perving at me. It made me feel queasy. My mother witnessed it sometimes too, and she told me that a lot of men were sick. Driven by the need to sin.
Her worries went farther as time went on, and she begged me to keep my virginity until I met the man I wanted to spend my life with.
“Mum, if only you’d known that my virginity is the very reason I’m in this awful mess now.” I shake my head as I talk to her while I cleanse my hair.
After I've washed and conditioned my hair, I step out of the shower and dry myself. My skin is dry and itchy, so I look through the body lotions lined up on the marble shelf. They are all scented.
After slathering myself with lotion to combat my dry skin and scrunching my hair into soft curls, I wrap a robe around myself and sit on the bed, my feet tucked under me and my arms around my knees. I sit for a long time, not feeling safe enough to lie down and sleep but so tired I could cry. I don’t know why I’m so damn fatigued, as all I’ve done is sleep since I was taken, but my body aches with exhaustion.
The door opens, and I jump, as if a rocket has exploded. Dimitri walks in carrying paper bags, the expensive kind with ribbon handles.
I gawp at them. What the hell?
“Got your clothes,” he says.
“You could have saved yourself a lot of money and gone to Target.” I shake my head at the array of designer bags he’s holding.
“My sister got these clothes for you. She doesn’t shop in Target. She’s high maintenance.”
“You sent your sister to buy clothes for your kidnapped sex slave?”
His face darkens. “You aren’t my fucking sex slave.”
There’s real anger behind his words. “I’m sorry. Stupid comment. Still, you sent your sister?” What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I poking at the one person in this who so far hasn’t done anything to hurt me?
To test him maybe? That’s a dangerous game, and I need to stop right now.
“Yes, I did. The woman I was going to send, who works for us, is sick, and I needed someone to grab you some clothes. She knows how to shop.”
“So your sister knows about me? You tell her about what you do … for work, I mean?”
“She’s not stupid. She knows what her father and I do. She will also talk to Mila.” He indicates the clothes. “There are some night things in there.”
He leaves me with the clothes and retreats from the room, closing the door softly behind him.
It’s as if he trusts me, but I bet the guard is still outside the door, so maybe not. Yawning, I change into the night clothes and then, unable to resist a peek, rifle through the other bags. The clothes are expensive and tasteful, but they're not my style. I tend to live in either my workout gear, or a pair of baggy jeans and a T-shirt.
These bags are full of boring but classy items such as light cashmere sweaters, long caramel-colored skirts, and linen trousers. They are the clothes of a forty-something wife who is holidaying in the Hamptons. Still, it's way better than whatever God-awful store Dorian and his men bought the underwear from. It seems old fashioned for Dimitri’s sister to have done the shopping. Do mob boss kids go to weekend lunches in the Hamptons? Or whatever the Cali version of that is?
I've just finished changing into the pajama set in the bathroom when there’s a light knock, and the door opens again. It's Dimitri, and he’s carrying a tray. He places it on the bed.
“I brought you some food,” he says.
“You cooked?” I ask stupidly.
“No, the chef did.”
“There’s a chef?”
“Yes, and it seems he is rather talented and was only working for Dorian on a short-term basis. We've decided to let him live so long as he cooks food for us.”
Oh my God. I feel sick, and I don't know if I can eat the food. His words make me all too aware of how much danger still exists.
To my surprise, Dimitri laughs. The first thing I notice is how the laughter transforms his face. It makes him look at least five years younger and so much more carefree. The second thing I notice is how deep and rich his laugh is. That laugh warms me deep inside.
“Of course, we didn't do that,” he says. “You really do think the worst of me, don’t you? We simply kept them on as they’re all agency staff, and they’ll get a massive bonus at the end of this for keeping their mouths shut. The chef says if there's anything you want, he can make it for you. I didn't want you to go any longer without having something to eat, so I brought some cheese, meats, bread, olives, and a salad.”
I look at the tray again, and my stomach groans noisily. I guess I'm hungrier than I realized.
“Listen, I have things to do, so I'm going to leave you to eat. If you want to come and join us later, I will be on the deck.”
He heads to the door and then turns back. “You are free to roam and as I say, join us on the deck, if you’d like fresh air or to sunbathe. There’s a pool on the boat too, a small gym, and there's a room onboard that's essentially a mini library. It's full of books. I'm not sure if you like reading, but if you do, you might find a few hours can be spent there. If you go out the door here and turn right, it’s at the end of the corridor, on your left.”
“Will the guard let me pass?”
“The boat has been cleared of all Dorian’s men. We have armed guards moving around, so you are safe. Feel free to come and go on this boat as you please. I just suggest you don't try to leap overboard. The currents here are deadly.”
“When you say cleared , do you mean they're all dead?” I shouldn't ask, but part of me needs to know what's happened to Dorian. A part of me hopes that he’s dead. He's a vile man, but I'm also worried that if he is then Ari will come for me whenever I'm set free.
“Most of them,” Dimitri replies with a chillingly casual tone. “Not Dorian, though. He's being held at my place. We’re going to have a long chat with him at some point. He can sweat it out until then.”
I nod and glance down at my feet. I'm suddenly feeling very vulnerable, very small in this new world I have entered.
As if he senses it, Dimitri sighs and scratches his short beard. “Listen, the only rule is that you must stay here for a week or two with me. You don't get to jump overboard; you don't get to steal the lifeboat and try to make a bid for freedom. If there's a party, you will be expected to be by my side, and I will have my arm around you. That’s it.” He throws me a sexy half smile. “It’s a whole lot better than the situation you were in an hour ago. You're free to walk about, free to look around, and you're free to use anything on the boat. Oh, except”—he holds one finger up—“no phone calls, and no emails. If I find that you've tried to make a call or email anybody, trust me—there will be consequences.”
I would like to speak to one person, Sian, my bestie in England. She’ll start to worry if she can’t get ahold of me. Maybe if I can build a relationship of sorts with my new captor, make him see me as human and vulnerable, then he’ll let me call her on his phone.
I nod and twist my hands together as I wait for him to leave. He hesitates a moment longer, and I think he's going to say something else, but he gives that subtle, small dip of his head, almost like an abbreviated shake, and leaves.
I sit on the bed heavily and eye the tray in front of me. I need to eat because I must keep my strength up. Dimitri says there's no chance of escape, and at the moment it wouldn't be in my best interests, but it doesn't mean that there may not be a time when I need to run. For that, I will need to be strong.
If I act up and he throws me off the boat and sends me back to land, I’ll be screwed. Of course, I could find work and try to find a place to rent. But to find work, at least work that will be well paid, I will need to use my real name and my real qualifications, which will make it easy for Ari to find me.
How will I even get in contact with my father to check that he and Cade are okay, without alerting Hana? The panic threatens to overwhelm me once more, and I can't let that happen. I need to think clearly. Dimitri might help me. Maybe he could find a way to at least let me meet with my father so that I can talk with him about what my stepmother did.
My heart sinks as I think through the possibility that Father won't believe me. It would be my final breaking point.
Losing the last bit of affection between us if he refused to believe me would tear me apart. I’d crumble. Losing Father would mean I have no family at all. Alone in the world.
Orphan .
The word rings out, dreadful and certain in my mind.
Alone. Confused. Scared.
I can’t eat. I curl up on my side, and my eyes slowly grow heavy.
“Dreenana, throw the ball,” Cade begs. “Throw it high.”
I do. I throw the ball gently, but upward so he must jump to catch it. He manages to cup it in his hands and shrieks in excitement.
The next throw he misses. The ball drops on the grass, and he clasps his hands behind his back, as if he’s upset with himself.
“Hey, bug, why don’t you throw it to me?”
He grins and picks the ball up. He throws it, and as I catch it, he claps and jumps up and down.
“Shall we go make supper?” I ask.
My father and Hana are in the lounge, drinking, even though it is early. It’s one of their regular cocktails with friends sessions, and I’m looking after Cade. “Yes, please. Can we make macrani cheese?”
I love the way he says macaroni. “Yes, bug. Macrani cheese it is.”
“And chocolate chip ice cream?”
“At the same time or after?”
“After, silly.” He giggles.
I laugh too, and he pulls me in for a hug. I hold him to me, his warm skin and hair smelling of summer and the outdoors.
When I let go and step back, I’m shocked to see it’s Sian I was hugging not Cade.
“Where’s Cade?” I ask.
“He went to buy some cheese.”
“Alone?” I demand. “He’s too young.”
“No, he went with your dad.”
“Oh, okay.” Why is she here? Then I realize I’m back in England. In Sian’s family home. A forty bedroom stately home with almost sixty rooms in total. In summer they let people come and look around for a small fee and have country fairs on their land.
Sian and her daddy are seriously wealthy and very much old money.
He has a title, and one day she’ll inherit it.
I like being here with them. I worry about Cade, but Sian distracts me, and everything feels soft and unreal as the light turns golden.
“Come and look at your room,” she says. “We got you new furniture.” She leads me to the stairs climbing to the spare room they’ve allocated for me.
It’s in their wing of the house, so it will be closed to visitors, and it’s mine for whenever I come to stay.
“Daddy says you should let us adopt you,” Sian says with a tinkling laugh.
I look up as we climb the stairs, and her father is standing at the top looking down on us.
He holds his arms out for a hug as we reach him. Sian hugs him first, and then he turns to me, grinning. “Adriana, my darling girl, come and give an old man a hug.”
I let him wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. I was uncomfortable at first, but Sian says her daddy is a big hugger, and over time, I’ve become used to his touchy-feely ways.
“Thank you for giving me a room,” I say.
“Nonsense, dear girl.” He smiles, dimples making him appear friendly. “We wish you’d come and stay forever. Don’t we, Sian?”
“Forever and ever,” Sian says.
“And ever and ever,” he repeats.
Sian nods. “And ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and…”
I jerk awake with a gasp. Oh my God . My heart is pounding. I must have fallen asleep. I’m curled on my side, my arms wrapped around myself. No wonder I dreamed about being hugged.
The dreams are slow to fade. They were real events, things that actually happened. I did play ball that way with Cade while my father and stepmother got drunk. I was shown my new room at Sian’s home, although she didn’t malfunction like a broken robot the way she did in my dream. They’re re-doing the room now, they say. Making it even more perfect because Sian wants me to go live with them, but I don’t want to leave Cade. Except, look at me now.
I ache with the need to speak with her. She’d tell me what to do. She is grounded, despite at times seeming excitable and childish; she always has good advice. I had to grow up far too fast when my mother died, and so did Sian; it makes her a great sounding board for advice.
Dimitri said no phones, and I don’t want to piss him off. He’s the only saving grace I have in all of this.
The only beacon of light on the horizon is a man who is clearly a criminal.
“God,” I groan, my head in my hands.
How the hell do I get myself out of this mess?