Chapter Nine
Dela
The instant the door closed, I sagged onto the nearest object, a sturdy coffee table carved from some type of dark hardwood. It held me without the slightest creak or sag, which was good because I couldn’t support myself.
“I am off men right now,” I said, repeating it to myself several times.
Chelsea and I had decided on the mantra after I walked in on Paolo with someone else.
At first, I’d thought he was dumping me because he’d relapsed into drug use.
His actions when I arrived at his apartment supported that.
Nonstop tiny body shifts, rapid unfocused eye movement, and an unwillingness to engage with me. But no, he just wanted to dump me.
Like every other guy lately.
Which was why I was absolutely not going to slip up and so much as flirt with this strange man, despite every fiber of my body wanting to do much more than flirt.
The way he looked at me, with the intensity of his sky-blue irises, made my body shiver.
If he tried, I wasn’t sure I could turn him away.
Those looks, that sultry yet steely voice, smooth on the outside but hiding a note of adamantine strength at its core. It would be too much.
Thankfully, he seemed as little interested in me as I was trying to pretend I was in him. That would make my plan much easier to follow.
After, of course, I found out where the fuck I was and what I was doing there.
If it was a reality show, it was the most bizarre one yet.
I didn’t know of anything like it. Maybe it was something out of Asia?
They certainly had far more relaxed rules for that sort of thing than the prudes of North America.
But nothing had happened. Just Power-Man leading me on a skulking tour of the castle that I was now a “guest” in. I got up and tried the door. It was locked.
“Guest, my ass,” I said. “I’m a goddamn prisoner, and I don’t even know why.”
Prisoner, I mused, or hostage? These quarters are certainly no jail cell.
I turned to look over the room I’d been given.
Correction, rooms. I noted three doors, two on the back wall and one on the right where I’d entered.
A fireplace in the front left corner lay empty.
Though, the castle was warm enough that I couldn’t imagine needing more heat.
I was already almost uncomfortable with the temperature.
Though once Power-Man had left, I’d begun to cool off.
“Well, what do we have here?” I said to nobody in particular, deciding to explore. After all, what else was I supposed to do?
I quickly discovered that the lone door led to a study with an empty desk and bookshelves. A comfortable-looking chair was located under a wall-mounted light, creating a cozy reading nook … if there were any books.
“Bookshelves without books. A travesty,” I said, wondering if there was any way I could steal one of them to take with me.
The bookshelves at my walk-up apartment were beyond full.
They were stuffed to the brim while stacks of other paperbacks rose next to them.
I had the odd hardcover for books I truly loved, but most of them were paperback.
They were cheaper, which meant I could afford more.
And more books were the best kind of books.
One of the other doors led to a bathroom, where I took a break from exploring to freshen up. In my entrance to this … place, wherever it was, I’d forgotten that my makeup was ruined and my hair was half out of place. I straightened my top, washed off my makeup as best I could, and redid my hair.
Without a brush or proper makeup remover, it wasn’t perfect, but I no longer looked like an absolute wreck.
“Oh, my,” I said as I opened the second door in the bathroom and looked upon the bedroom, including the giant four-poster bed, complete with gauzy curtains tied to each post. “As far as hostage situations go, this certainly isn’t the worst.”
My stomach growled. “Though, some food wouldn’t hurt,” I observed, speaking aloud in case cameras were rolling. If I was on some show, I wanted to do my best to play along.
There was one more door, which I figured led back to the main sitting area. Taking one last look at the bed, I opened it—
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, surprised to see a man standing near the entrance, holding a large bag.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, setting the bag down and undoing a zipper.
It was then I realized my stomach was growling nonstop. The sound was loud enough that he had to hear it, meaning I couldn’t lie and say no.
“What is this place?” I asked, gesturing. If he was going to ignore my question, I was going to ignore his. For now.
Everything was so square and blocky. High ceilings, right angles, and lots of reds and oranges. It had such a unique style, evoking thoughts of warmth and heat yet never truly letting me settle enough to feel welcome. Though perhaps that was the standoffish nature of the two people I’d met.
“I brought you some selections from the kitchen,” my uninvited guest continued.
He was tall, though I didn’t think he was as rangy as Mr. Power. There was a lack of bulk, but given his youthful appearance, I suspected it was more an age thing. Men in their mid-twenties tended to fill out with some man bulk, I’d found.
I eyed him some more, examining the narrowing of his chin and low eyebrows. His features were close enough to Mr. Power’s that I had to wonder if they were related. They even sported the same blue eyes, though this man’s were noticeably paler and softer blue.
He also had lighter hair, closer to a dirty blond than the black of my original kidnapper.
“Who are you people?” I asked. “This has to be the weirdest reality show ever.”
“Reality show?” the man asked, setting a plate and cutlery on the coffee table. “What do you mean?”
I frowned. There was something about the way he spoke, the complete confusion about what I was referring to.
“If I’m not being filmed for some sort of prank, then what the fuck is going on?” I asked, a pit forming in my stomach, sucking me down as my fear swirled higher. For the first time, I didn’t feel like everything was just for laughs. It felt serious.
“Would you prefer something else to eat?” he asked, running a hand through his hair, the unstyled mop hanging halfway down his forehead. It was a strong contrast to Mr. Power, who seemed so put together.
“Mint chocolate chip ice cream?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, but no. I brought you chicken strips, some sandwiches, a little fruit tray, a choice of water or apple juice, and some chocolate chip cookies. I can return with something else. A burger, perhaps?”
I eyed the food, all of which looked fresh. My stomach was grumbling nonstop from that alone.
“You just had all this ready to go?” I asked, looking up at him suspiciously.
He shrugged, the movement tugging his high-collared black long-sleeve slightly out of position. “A dra—that is, we burn a lot of calories, so having food at the ready is beneficial for us. High metabolisms.”
“Why won’t you or anyone else tell me where I am or why I’m here?” I asked softly, ignoring the food as best I could, despite the extra saliva gathering in my mouth.
“It is not my place,” my guest said.
“What about names? Do I get some names?”
He contemplated my request. “Pyre.”
“What?”
“My name is Pyre.”
“Thank you, Pyre,” I said. “What about Mr. Power?”
“Mr. Who?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know. Power suit, power styling, power attitude. The guy who brought me here?”
“Oh, you mean Ember?” He snickered.
“Yeah, sure, him,” I said, rolling the name over in my mind. Ember. He certainly made me burn like one. Even just thinking of him sent pleasant tingles down my spine. I tried to shove thoughts of his big hands from my mind. Now was not the time to imagine them wrapping around my waist.
Pyre was still smiling broadly, shaking his head slowly. “Mr. Power, though. Thank you for that. Thank you very much. I’m going to keep that one.”
Frankly, I didn’t care about their teasing. All I wanted was some answers. And some food. If my stomach went haywire for much longer, I wouldn’t be able to stop my nausea. I knew that from experience.
“Should I be concerned for my safety?” I asked, eyeing the chicken strips. “And how did you get me here from the grocery store? I didn’t faint. Unless this is some sort of elaborate set, built behind the supermarket, somehow?”
“I’m not sure how you came to be here,” Pyre said with clear honesty. “But you are.”
“You don’t know?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“I wasn’t involved in it,” he said. “Ember just asked me to bring you food while he looked into some things.”
Food. Finally caving, I snatched up one of the chicken strips with a bare hand, pausing long enough to dunk it in some plum sauce before taking a giant bite.
“What sorts of ‘things’ does Ember need to look into?” I asked, trying to pry for more information.
Pyre didn’t respond, which didn’t surprise me. Whoever these people were, they were very private. Though, that didn’t explain why they’d brought me to the castle if they didn’t want to explain anything. It was very confusing.
Wherever I was, I was now fairly convinced I wasn’t on some television show. But I still had no explanation, or even idea, as to how I’d arrived there. I must have blacked out at some point. Had I fainted during my excitement for ice cream? Perhaps I’d fallen and hit my head. That could be it.
Am I in a coma now?
“Is it good?” Pyre asked as I finished the chicken strip and went for a second.
“Yes, it’s delicious, thank you,” I said.
Or tried to say. The words came out with a heavy slur to them.
“Wwwhas tha ‘ell?” I cried, the world starting to go fuzzy along with my non-working tongue.
I looked at Pyre, who watched with a look of regret on his face.
“I am sorry,” he said softly. “But it’s for the best.”
Who’s best? I wanted to ask, but the world started to spin too quickly.
The food was drugged. I tried lunging for Pyre, but I never made it.