Chapter 5 - Simon #2
She laughs as though my question is ridiculous.
“I don’t think I’ve ever worn a brand name until I came here, so no, I don’t really have a specific brand I prefer,” she says.
“The chef has made us a picnic lunch to eat on the deck. Why don’t you grab one of the swimsuits and a dress, then join me outside? It’s lovely and hot, a really beautiful day, and the pool water is looking damn inviting.”
She bites her lip and nods. “Alright,” she agrees.
Slowly but surely, I get her out of her room, day after day, until our lunches on the deck become a routine and she begins to open up to me and relax around me.
“This mango salad is amazing,” she remarks, taking a bite.
“Oh, I almost forgot to ask, did you find what you were looking for in the library yesterday. I saw you browsing in there when I walked past.”
“I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I was just admiring your extensive collection. Your library has more rare books than I’ve ever seen, certainly in comparison to our little secondhand bookstore.”
“Did you enjoy the mythology section?”
She smiles, nodding. “I noticed it was the largest of all your collections. Some of those books are… I know how rare they are. They must have been incredibly difficult to find and even more difficult to negotiate a price for?”
“I enjoy the challenge, though. But yes, some of those books took me years to acquire,” I agree.
“What do you do for a living?” she asks.
I don’t have to lie to her, but I also don’t intend to tell her the full truth.
“My family owns a business that supplies restaurants, stores, and hotels with food. Both in this city and in others. It’s a big industry, and we are top of the game as one of the biggest suppliers in the market.”
“Yes, well, I assumed that whatever you did, you did it well,” she giggles softly. Her gentle laughter brings a smile to my face.
“And how did you end up working at a bookshop? What do you do there?” I ask, realizing I have an unanswered question about her.
“I gravitate naturally toward words. I think they are so beautiful when used properly. You can build entire worlds, entire universes with just words. And people can see it and feel it. It’s really magical.”
Her face is a light with passion as she speaks. Her eyes are glittering as she’s telling me a beautiful secret.
She looks gorgeous in the late afternoon light, wearing a pale blue summer dress with her hair pulled up into a messy bun to keep her neck and shoulders cool.
“You sound like you should have been a writer. Like you should have been the one creating those universes,” I remark.
Her expression becomes tense for a moment before she tilts her head to the side, and her mouth curves into a small smile.
“Perhaps. Maybe in my next life I’ll be an author.”
“Why not this one? What do you need to study to become an author?” I ask.
“I’ve already studied English Literature, actually, and a few other courses, all moving in the direction of becoming a writer,” she shrugs.
“Really, then what’s stopping you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Life, I don’t know,” she mutters.
“It’s not like I’m doing anything interesting at the bookstore anyway.
I just track the sales and inventory, source new books, and deal with the customers.
I’m pretty good with filing and spreadsheets and that sort of thing.
It’s not like I’m sitting there writing beautiful stories,” she sighs.
“Why don’t you, though? You clearly want to,” I push.
“I think I’m going to jump in the pool and cool down,” she says, eager to change the subject. Blair stands and sets her empty plate at the side of the table. “Lunch was amazing, thank you,” she smiles, then hurries away from me and my questions.
I never got the answer I was looking for. I still don’t know why she never pursued her dream of writing.
But within moments, I am no longer wondering about what stopped her from carrying on down that path because she’s pulled the pale blue summer dress over her shoulders and tossed it onto a sun lounger, and now she’s standing next to the pool in nothing but a white bikini that leaves very little to the imagination and my cock has gone rock hard beneath the table.
I groan as I watch her walk around the pool toward the steps.
She doesn’t sway her hips intentionally or walk like a woman who knows someone is watching her.
She looks shyer than anything else, and if I were to guess, I’d say she probably isn’t even used to wearing such a revealing bikini and would have preferred a full piece. She is modest in most of what she does.
Lucky for me, there wasn’t a full range of options in the closet for her to choose from, as my sister never wears anything but bikinis.
She slips into the water, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as the coolness embraces her body. My cock throbs harder, and I groan in dismay. I want to join her in the pool, but obviously not in the state I’m currently in.
So, I have to settle with watching her from the table while I busy myself with the fresh orange juice and nibble from the fruit platter.
Thank goodness things between us have been getting better. She’s much more relaxed around me. In no time at all, she will feel completely at home here, and maybe she won’t want to leave after that.
***
Late one afternoon, after another lovely lunch with Blair, I am walking past my office when I hear a soft knock as if someone has bumped something. I pause, cocking my head to the side and staring at the closed door.
My instincts spoke as I stepped toward the door and pushed it open.
Blair jumps in fright when I walk in on her, elbow deep in one of my drawers.
“What are you doing?” I blurt out, shocked to find her in here.
“What am I doing!? Me?! Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing!” she shouts angrily, shoving some papers toward me, pushing them across the desk.
“And this!” she shouts, practically throwing a notebook at me.
“Blair,” I stammer, watching some of the documents fall to the floor. Reports from the private investigator that I printed out to read at night while I was looking into her.
“Where I went to university. What I studied. Who my parents are. Where I grew up. What the hell is this!?” She’s furious.
Shy little Blair has flared up like a wildfire, and she is not holding back at all.
“Explain what this is!” she demands, her voice high-pitched with strain as she bends down to pick up the notebook that landed on the floor in front of me. She opens it randomly.
I clench my jaw, looking at the coded breakdown of the business behind our legitimate business. The bratva business. The hidden one.
“I’m not stupid, Simon. This is money laundering stuff. This isn’t legitimate, legal stuff. And…” She runs to my computer and hammers her fingers against the keys. “And this!” she snaps, turning it toward me so I can see an email she’s read. One she should never have been exposed to.
“You’re in the mafia.” Her voice is quiet but dark with accusation. “That’s why you’re so rich and powerful,” she mutters.
“Blair, I can explain.”
“No. I already know what’s going on. This was all orchestrated.
I’m not here by mistake. You planned this.
You wanted me here for some reason, and you fabricated the whole thing with those guys who tried to kidnap me.
It was a fake rescue. And that day I bumped into you and spilled your coffee on you…
Was that planned too? It was! Wasn’t it!
” She looks panicked, terrified, and confused.
“Blair, it’s not like that. It’s…” I don’t really know what to tell her because some of what she’s said is true. But not all of it. “I have no idea who those men were who tried to take you. I mean. I know who they are, but I don’t have any connections to them.”
“Sure!” she huffs, not believing me.
I take a step toward her, wanting to comfort her as her eyes dart nervously around the room.
“Don’t come near me! I don’t even know who you are!” she shouts, sidestepping and running around me. She bolts out of the office, and I don’t try to stop her. I hear her running down the hallway to her bedroom. The door slams closed, and the sound of the lock engaging makes me wince.
All the progress we’ve made just blew up in my face.
I groan and press my fingers into my temple, massaging away the beginning of a headache that has appeared quite suddenly.
Talking to her now won’t help at all. I’ll give her a little time to cool down, then go see if I can help her understand.
***
It’s almost nine when I finally head up to her room and knock on the door.
“Blair? Can we talk?” I ask gently.
There is no reply.
“We can talk through the door if it makes you more comfortable. I just want a chance to explain myself. I promise you, I never intentionally put you in danger,” I tell her.
Silence rings back at me.
Sighing, I try the door handle, and to my surprise, I find it unlocked.
“Blair,” I say, pushing the door open slowly to try to avoid another incident like we had last time.
One light is on. The soft glow from her bedside light casts warm shadows across the room.
“Blair?”
The bed is made. The room is neat and quiet… and completely empty. She’s not here.
My heart constricts, pulling tight in my chest as panic surges. I bolt toward the bathroom, but she’s not in there either.
“Blair!” I shout, knowing it’s pointless. She’s definitely not here.
I run downstairs, grabbing my car keys as I pass the kitchen. Bursting through the front door, I yell for one of the security guards. He comes jogging over.
“Check the security footage. Blair isn’t in the house. I want to know when she escaped,” I snap, furious at the entire security team but not ready to waste time telling them that.
The guard’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “Yes, sir, right away,” he stammers, backing away from me.
I reckon there is only one place she would go. I just hope I get there before anything bad happens to her.