Chapter Five
Austin
I was hasty to say being in this basement would be a breeze.
Yes, the bed is comfortable, yes, the food is so good my nonna would be proud, and yes, Olivia hasn’t bothered replacing the cable ties on my wrists.
But lying without so much as a book is annoying, to say the least. With nothing but my thoughts, the hours drag, and all I can do is wait for her to descend the stairs again.
So, aside from the very quick check-in, I’m left to my own devices.
And when I should be worrying about my business, the employees who work for me, and my own safety from a person who has decidedly acted very out of character, all I can think about is the hurt look on her face when I suggested that perhaps her brother was happy where he was.
He didn’t need his sister valiantly riding in to defend or save him.
Danny is a man, a man who has made his own decisions and hasn’t made any suggestions to me that he is unhappy with his choices.
And the trouble with my thoughtless comment is that it puts her in a difficult position.
She abducted a man for a reason that may not be true.
It’s only logical that she would be thinking about her next steps.
If I don’t give her Danny, or Danny doesn’t acquiesce, she either lets me go and assumes I’ll come after her, or she kills me.
Or tries to kill me. The girl is strong, clearly.
But I have at least eighty pounds on her.
There’s no way she’s taking me down. Unless, of course, she asks me nicely, like with the chloroform, and then apparently, I’ll just fucking happily do it for her.
The sun has set, and all natural light has left the room, leaving sharp, elongated shadows across the half-renovated basement.
I leave the light off, hoping the darkness will help me regain some much-needed sleep I’ve lost over the years.
I expect she’ll be down with some more food soon, but after lunch, I can’t be sure.
When I finally hear the faint slide of the dead bolt, I hold my breath in anticipation.
But she walks silently down the stairs holding two bowls of what smells like spaghetti bolognese with parmesan cheese on top.
My mouth waters and maybe it’s the fact I’ve been alone in this basement all day, but the sight of her fills me with such relief.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Fine.”
Well, at least she’s talking. Kind of. Not sure if mono-syllables count in terms of a conversation .
When she comes closer, I can see how tired she is. The gash on her forehead is angry and molten. Gray shadows rim her eyes. Perhaps the lighting down here has exaggerated her tiredness but my gut says probably not.
She sits on the chair opposite my mattress and begins to eat.
I eat half my bowl before I can’t take the silence any longer.
“I’m sorry I upset you.” The words taste hollow. “It wasn’t my intention to make you lose hope.”
She looks up, her mouth slightly agape as she holds the fork up to take another bite.
“Oh...Oh no.” She swishes her hand in front of her to bat away my apology, spaghetti sauce flicking across the floor. “I’m just in my own head. Nothing to worry about.”
“Tell me.”
I’m not sure what possessed me to say it. She seems to be wondering the same thing as she does an adorable head tilt.
“We’ve never spoken much before. Why start now?”
“We’ve never spoken before ever ,” I correct her.
She smiles. “I’m sure you said hi to me once. I was awful and ignored you.”
“I can understand why now you’ve explained.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to go around on a loop here.” She hitches her foot up onto the chair so she can almost rest her chin on her knee. I lean back against the wall and lift my leg as well, mirroring her.
“Hmm. okay. So let's talk about something neutral,” I suggest.
“What’s a neutral topic between captive and captor?”
I think for a moment, choosing from the list of questions I had banked up this afternoon.
“Why did you get into personal fitness?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask how you know that. You called me a blogger the other day. How did you know?”
How did I know that? Oh, right, she doesn’t know that I’ve been watching her videos for the last two years only to masturbate to ones of her doing pilates or talking about healthy work snacks.
No, I'm not ashamed. Her smile, her hair, her beautiful face and body are only enhanced by how fucking sexy she is when she’s talking about her passion.
And the whole time I’ve been semi-stalking her at Squeeze the Day.
With each new video that was posted, it felt like a personal gift to me.
Merry Fucking Christmas—I can watch you on the other four days of the week from the comfort of my own home .
“I didn’t.” I shrug. “But the constant leggings and crop tops, excessive amount of gym equipment, and the fact that you have time to sit in a café three times a week at 10 a.m. just to read would suggest you don’t have a typical nine-to-five.
And everyone your age has an online presence. Am I wrong?”
Jesus, that’s a ramble.
“Spend a lot of time monitoring the younger generation, do you?” she quips.
“I’m not that much older than you.”
“That’s exactly what an old person would say.”
A laugh rumbles from my chest, and I throw my head back, clunking it against the wall.
“Fuck, that was your fault.” I lift my hand awkwardly to rub the back of my head. The chain just about lets me reach.
“Mine? Typical Boomer, blaming us young’uns for everything.”
“Fucking BOOMER? If I wasn’t chained up, I’d—”
Her eyebrow raises, her lips parting ever so slightly. I can see her perfect, pink tongue peeking out.
“You’d what?” she whispers.
For a moment, I think she’s scared. But I notice the subtlety of her movements; after all, I’ve watched her for years.
Her thighs clench, and she leans toward me, not away.
Her voice lowers, and the slow movement down her throat suggests that the thought of me out of these chains makes her mouth water.
Maybe it’s inevitable that we’ll get there.
Maybe she’s been fantasizing as much as I have.
But it’s too soon. I don’t want to scare her.
Only last night she panicked at waking up with her head in my lap.
And there goes my dick again. Perking up at the thought of her in my lap.
“Nothing . . . I was just playing,” I lie.
She looks away, almost disappointed. The ape in my chest is spinning in circles and pounding with triumph. Oh, she fucking likes me. I may well have played my hand, Olivia Daniels, but you’ve played yours, too .
Now, I just need to play the game better than her.
“So.” I clear my throat. “Your fitness journey. How did that come about?”
“I started while I was in community college. I ran sessions for extra cash. I really enjoyed it, so I thought I’d incorporate it into my master plan.”
“Ah, then we’ll do what we do every night, Pinky...try to take over the world,” I quote in a high-pitched voice.
“Oh my god, you watched Pinky and The Brain ?”
“Olivia.” I lean forward. “I was obsessed with Pinky and The Brain .”
She giggles, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she relaxes back into her chair.
“Well, yes. Sort of, I guess. I wanted to build something that was mine. I was taking care of Danny while he started high school, so I needed work to be flexible. I also wanted to get my degree in business, so I had to get creative.”
I know the answer already, but it would seem odd if I didn’t ask. “So...your parents?”
“Car accident.” She summarizes—not explicitly telling me they’re dead, but then I suppose she doesn’t need to.
I nod. “Sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs, moving on from the topic swiftly. “What about you? How did you get into whatever it is you're into?”
“I thought you knew what I was into?” I smirk, feeling the mood shift.
“Help me understand you and what my brother has gotten into.” Her voice softens.
A difficult question to answer. Two years ago, I’d had somewhat of an epiphany.
I don’t much believe in fate, or destiny, but I’d been born into the life I’d been born into.
My role as second son had another meaning besides being the younger brother.
I was groomed to do the shit jobs, the dirty jobs, while August kept his nose clean to eventually be the face of our father’s business.
As my world darkened, August was living in the light.
The shadows comforted me, accepted me covered in blood, sweat, piss, and shit, none my own, not that that would be better.
My reputation grew each year until everyone feared me.
My father was so proud, proud of the monster I had become.
My brother feared my ambition would grow beyond my station.
Beyond the tasks our father had assigned me.
Of course, I indulged in the fantasy of living a normal life, having someone to come home to at night, take long walks with, and live somewhat of a simpler life.
I’d dreamed that night of a life that was so ordinary, so unbelievably mundane.
I could taste the percolator coffee first thing on a Saturday morning; I could smell the clean linen bed sheets wrapped around me and the most beautiful woman in the world—long blonde hair, golden-tanned skin, and a smile that filled her whole face.
And she looked at me like that, like I made her that happy.