Chapter 7
Seraphina
It takes me a moment to drag my eyes away from the closed door and take in my new surroundings. When I do, my jaw drops open.
I never knew a place like this could exist. Shelves lined with leather-bound books.
A massive brick fireplace with a flat-screen balanced on top, ringed by couches.
On the other side, I see a long white table with plush chairs.
Opposite the door, sliding glass doors open onto a balcony, chairs arranged neatly among more potted plants than I’ve ever seen in my life.
This can’t be where I’m meant to stay, can it? There must be some mistake.
Then I realize there’s no bed, only white sofas, sleek and strange, and clean, far too clean. My clothes might stain them. In spite of the daily washes and changes of clothes, I’m filthy from having spent my time lying down on the damp floor of the cell.
And I don’t want Damien to be angry at me.
I wish I’d said something. Anything to get him to stay, to get those hands to touch me again.
The shame I felt before has evaporated during the week in the cell.
My mind has gone on mute, while my body practically aches with the need to inhale that cologne, feel the warmth of his chest against my cheek, his fingers in my hair and on my back.
Seriously, what is wrong with me? I thought I was stronger than this. One week of being locked in a cell is all it took for me to become obsessed with my kidnapper.
And now, he’s gone. I don’t know if I could have kept him here with words, but it’s too late to wonder.
The carpet looks like a safe bet for finishing my night. It has a busy pattern, so if I stain it, no one will notice. Hopefully.
I lie down on it and am surprised to discover how tired I am. I wouldn’t have thought I could possibly sleep after spending so much time confined to the cell, sleeping away the days.
I roll into the smallest ball I can. For the first time since I’ve been in Devil Tower, I sleep soundly. And still, the old nightmares stay away.
-
The sound of a door opening startles me awake.
The light is streaming in from the windows, and I jump up, embarrassed to be sleeping so late.
It takes me a moment to understand where I am.
The luxurious couches, the thick cream curtains over the windows, the balcony crowded with potted plants…
And a tiny light blinking red in the corner of the ceiling.
I stare up at it. It’s barely noticeable, but I’m a seasoned shoplifter. It’s the first thing I see.
My stomach twinges as I wonder if Damien is watching me. Now that I’ve had a night of real sleep, old conflicted feelings surge up in me. I may be in a nicer place, but I’m still a captive. And Damien Wells is the one who owns me.
Nonetheless, I turn around, hoping he’s the one who opened the door, wanting to feel once more the touch of the hands that soothe me so well… even as my mind, awake once more, screams at me to beware.
But it’s not him. It’s the Ken doll, Everest Grant.
Suddenly, I remember Damien mentioning he’d send him to me. I feel a wave of bitterness rise up in me. He doesn’t want to bother himself with me, so he sends his minion to look after me in his place.
He’s abducted me, and he won’t even come see me.
I’m well aware of the absurdity. My mind has recovered enough to realize that I should be dreading my captor’s presence, not hungering for it. But my body still shakes with need.
I turn my attention to Everest. He’s looking at me as though he can’t decide whether what he’s seeing is hilarious or deeply pitiful.
Then, without even addressing me, he dials a number on his cell phone and brings it to his ear.
“She literally slept on the carpet,” he says into his cell, as though I’m not right in front of him.
But that’s par for the course. Invisibility, and all that.
When he next speaks, his voice has grown harsher, and I shrink back.
“Guess you didn’t bother telling her about the rest of the apartment, Damien? Just left her here, after locking her in the cell for days? Didn’t you see her lying on the ground? What the fuck?”
A voice sounds angrily in his ear, though I can’t make out the words.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. You know I don’t like this. Okay, sorry, boss.”
Everest hangs up, and when he faces me again, I don’t see any trace of humor in his light blue eyes.
He draws near, and I cringe back, even though he doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly. I really hate what the cell has done to me. Turned me into some pathetic, quaking creature. I never thought I would fall apart so easily.
“Come on,” he says, touching my shoulder.
Swallowing my nerves, I follow him to the opposite side of the room, toward a door. I hope he’s not planning to take me back to the cell, but I don’t think this door is the one I came through yesterday.
I scan the room and notice there are several other doors. I never even saw them last night. If I had, I probably wouldn’t have attempted to open them, anyway. I would have assumed they were locked. Or maybe a trick, to see if I could be trusted out of the cell. I don’t want to go back there.
As we near the door, Damien’s words come back to me painfully. You’re going to stay here for a little while.
Why is Everest bringing me to this door? Doesn’t he know I’m not supposed to go out? Is he trying to get me in trouble? Give the others a reason to kill me?
I guess I’ve recovered my voice this morning, because I manage to stammer, “I’m not allowed.”
“Sure, you are,” smiles Everest.
“I mean… Damien… Mr. Wells…” I blush. “He said I had to stay here for a while.”
“You can call us by our first names,” says Everest quietly. “Most people do. And he meant in this apartment. Not this room.”
With that, he opens the door, and guides me into a large room with a queen-sized bed and windows looking out on Astley. There are two chairs separated by a small table on which an old-fashioned telephone with a cord is set.
Whoever’s apartment this is must spend a lot of time sitting down, I think to myself.
“That’s your bedroom,” he says. “I think it will be more comfortable than a rug.”
My bedroom?
He must notice the absolute disbelief on my face because he turns away, a slightly pained look in his eyes, before guiding me to the next room.
It’s a large space lined with metal rods.
“The closet,” he says. “It’s pretty empty though.”
He looks me up and down. The dress I’m wearing probably doesn’t bear much resemblance to the garment I received in the cell. Now it’s wrinkled, stained, and smells of humidity.
“We’ll get you a few things just to tide you over. Maybe I can convince the boys to let me take you shopping.”
He adds this last sentence in a wistful, almost regretful voice. “You know, Damien doesn’t want…” he begins, then interrupts himself.
I wait, impatient for him to continue, but he doesn’t seem to want to. I’m torn between curiosity and nerves. Damien’s name on his tongue makes it impossible for me to stay silent, though. “Damien doesn’t want what?” I breathe.
“This,” he finishes weakly. “Well, actually, that’s not true.
” He chuckles. “Damien definitely does want this. But his hand was forced. I can’t go into detail or they’d kill me, so don’t even try,” he adds when he sees my open mouth.
“Just know that Damien wouldn’t have done it so… violently, if it had been up to him.”
I stare at him in incomprehension, and he tries to divert my attention by showing me the sprawling bathroom and fully-stocked kitchen, but at last he buckles under my gaze.
Right now I’m thankful for my scary eyes, because I’m aware they’re freaking Everest out a bit. Just enough that he finally gives in and returns to the subject that really interests me.
“What I mean,” he coughs, “is that if it had been up to Damien, a gun wouldn’t have been held to your head. You wouldn’t have been locked in the cell. And…”
“And I wouldn’t have been kidnapped,” I guess.
He snorts. “I don’t know about that. Damien’s a little crazy.”
“Crazy?” I echo.
“Well, no, not usually. But with you… Anyway, I need to go. Don’t worry, Damien won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll see if he won’t let me come visit you every so often. He’s kind of an asshole, though. But, well… we’ll see.”
With that, he walks back to the front door. The lock turns, and I’m left reeling with unanswered questions.
I can’t understand a thing that’s happening.
Why did Damien kidnap me? Why do Logan, Vale and Igor want me dead?
Is Damien actually interested in me? The thought sends a shiver down my spine, danger mingling with the strange new sensation of being desired.
But a second later it all dies down. His hand was forced, Everest said.
He didn’t want to take me. At least, not yet.
For a moment, I find myself clinging to that. Not yet. He did want me, only not yet.
Then, I realize how absurd that thought is. I can’t believe I’m hoping Damien wanted to abduct me.
Still, maybe it would have been better if it had been his choice. Because something has led to my being taken, and I’m beginning to realize that whatever it is, it’s bad news.
It seems I’ve been far less invisible than I believed.
And I don’t know whether that frightens me, or thrills me.
Or both.