Chapter 7 – Blair
It’s been a week already—a week where nothing good happened. Well, so far, nothing bad had happened either. Every day was the same: wake up, shower, eat, wander the halls like a lost puppy, read a few books in the library, then go back to my room at night.
At least that’s what it looked like on the outside—that’s what everyone else saw at first glance. But that wasn’t entirely true. All that time in the library, I’d been studying the mansion’s blueprint and tracing escape routes through the estate.
Each time I wandered the halls or moved around the building, it wasn’t just because I was bored out of my mind. It was to observe the security system—CCTV, guard shifts, the number of potential exits, and any pattern that could help me find a loophole in their patrol.
I’d mapped out my movement for tonight, and when it was time, I snuck out of my bedroom. My bare feet were soundless against the cool marble as I hurried through the hallway. With occasional glances over my shoulders, I rushed over to the staircase leading to the living room.
The entire building was plunged into darkness, but I moved freely because I’d already memorized everything, every corner of the house. I knew how many steps it would take me to get to the staircase from my room. I’d practiced this so many times during the day.
The exact number of steps on the staircase was buried in my mind. So when I descended, I counted them quietly—one step at a time. The polished railing was cool under my grip as I walked down the stairs.
When I reached the base, I heaved a sigh and braced myself. I was already rushing toward the door that led to the service passage when the lights came up. I stopped in my tracks, my eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that enveloped the room.
I didn’t need to turn around to sense his presence behind me. His cologne wafted through the air, and when he cleared his throat, I almost flinched.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice deep and husky.
I closed my eyes, my chest rising and falling with slow breaths. “I just needed some air.”
“At this time of the night?”
I locked my jaw, then slowly turned around to face him. He was seated on a sofa, legs crossed, hands resting on the armrest, with a posture that exuded power and confidence. He was stripped from the waist upward, the chandelier’s soft light highlighting his broad chest and shoulders.
“What’s the big deal? Did you impose a curfew or something?” I folded my arms across my chest, my eyes pinned on him.
He held my gaze a little while before slowly rising to his feet. He buried a hand in his pocket and then approached me with slow, menacing steps. His expression was blank, his eyes cold as ice.
“Perhaps I didn’t make it super clear the first time,” he began, halting in front of me. “You’re not going anywhere.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “You belong to me now.”
My jaw tightened.
“Instead of trying to run away,” he added, holding my gaze, “you should consider yourself lucky that I put you in a luxury suite and not a damp cell with the rats and cockroaches.”
“You can dress it up all you want. But a prison is still a prison,” I said to him, eyes blazing with fury.
He paused for a moment, then said, “You’re right. You’re in my prison—and it doesn’t matter how many times you try…you’ll never escape.”
His words struck me like a knife to the heart, and it only fueled my rage.
“Accept your new reality, and save yourself the trouble.” With that, he stepped away from me and headed back upstairs.
It wasn’t until he’d disappeared out of my sight that my lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. This was my first attempt at an escape, and I wanted him to catch me. It would be a lot easier to have him more focused on my escape plan than on the actual plan.
I wanted him to believe I was reckless and stupid so he wouldn’t look deeper. He must not know that my real mission was observation. Not escape.
After that night, I made more bold moves, and the more I tried, the more he caught me. It became like a game between us, and this time, I was the one calling the shots. He was doing exactly what I wanted him to while I gathered as much information about his business as I could.
I’d noticed the subtle signs of criminal activities in the mansion: muffled screams from the basement like someone was being tortured, hushed conversations behind closed doors, and coded phone calls in Russian.
Strange packages were constantly being moved in and out of the mansion under the cover of night. Although nothing was concrete yet, I was sure that with time, I’d get to the bottom of this.
This place wasn’t a home. It was a hub for criminal activities.
Meanwhile, despite all of these findings, something else was swelling between my captor and me. Something that could either help me destroy him or end up destroying me. Every time he faced me, he looked at me in a way that was both captivating and unsettling.
His cold eyes lingered a little longer, and whenever his skin grazed mine, it ignited a flame within me. Every time I sensed the tension between us, or the emotions his touch stirred inside me, I’d mask my feelings with rage.
Pretending not to notice any of this was the only way that I could stay focused on the mission. However, my pulse betrayed me whenever he was near.
This uneasy attraction was an unwelcome distraction that unsettled me in more ways than one. I had to remind myself every day why I was here, what the mission was, and what was at stake if I lost.
My captor wasn’t someone to be seduced by. No. He was a man to be exposed and locked away forever. This was a dangerous game, and I was clearly playing with fire. I could either burn or get burned, and I preferred to burn. Maybe if I played this game well enough, I might actually win.