“You think I’d poison you?” It’s so unfathomable, yet the truth is, every night I still sleep with my arms bound. “What would I even use to do that? I’m pretty sure you’d know if there was bleach in your stew!”
He has the audacity to roll his eyes at me as he gestures in the vague direction of the studio. “The vintage pigments are toxic. The Paris Green literally contains arsenic. That’s why we use gloves and filtering masks when we experiment with them.”
I push my fingers into my hair in disbelief. “What are you even saying? That when I lie in bed with you, suck your dick, or paint with you, all I’m really thinking about is how to kill you?”
He scowls, wrapping his arms across his chest. “No! I don’t think that.”
“Then why?” I demand, squeezing my hands into fists. “If youdon’tthink I plan to kill you, why would you be afraid to eat the food I prepared?”
Seva licks his lips and starts to pace. “It’s not that Ithinkthat. I simply need to be sure, and I can only be sure if I see the food cooked.”
“How can we build anything if you don’t trust me?” Saying it out loud hurts more than I’d like, and I’ve already had a frustrating day. “I’d offer to cook you another portion, right in front of you, but then you’d suspect I already tampered with what’s in the fridge? Make it make sense!”
His face falls, faint crow’s feet deepening, and I let my arms drop in frustration, because I can see in real time that I have now created a new level of paranoia.
“You can’t be serious! This is so messed up!”
Seva steps closer, reaching for me, but I withdraw, because I’m angry and won’t be influenced by his warm touch.
“I’ve put up withso muchto be with you. Every day I fall for you more, and you don’t even trust me enough to eat food I reheated.” I take a step back, shaking my head
“I told you it’s not that!” Seva hisses, once again reaching for me. I intend to step away, but my bare foot slips when the floor under our feet shakes. A deafening boom somewhere in the house makes me yelp and grab the table for stability as I look around in panic, our argument forgotten.
“The fuck was that?”
Chapter 18
Sevastyan
ThefirstthingIdo is pull Victor behind the kitchen island, because if someone’s entered the house, they might shoot first, ask questions second. My fingers find the button opening the secret compartment next to the drawer filled with bowls and cooking utensils. I fish out the new addition, a dark blue tracksuit set, and throw it at Victor while pulling on my own clothes. The hideout also contains a Glock, and a sharp dagger, as well as a small touchscreen connected to the security system. Every second counts, because if there are intruders, all the traps need to be armed immediately.
I press the right button even before checking the system and camera feeds, and a croaking shout comes from deep inside the house a moment later. The floor opens under one of the men I can finally see in the black-and-white image on the device in my hand. His companions scatter, two progressing deeper into my home, while one stays behind, as if uncertain his buddy, skewered on several spikes of stainless steel, can survive such an ordeal.
I suppose he could. If anyone bothered to call the medics now. Which I won’t, and neither will that bastard’s so-called friends.
“Seva. What’s happening?” Victor whispers, his voice trembling as he tries to look over my shoulder, already dressed.
If it was only me, I’d already be up and on the move, to make sure the traps are enough, that no one’s hiding in a blind spot or has disabled a camera, but Victor is here with me. I might have showed him a few self-defence moves, but that’ll hardly save him if he comes face-to-face with a trained killer.
His safety must be my priority, even if it means revealing the location of the panic room.
I’m about to drag him to the studio, but my cameras don’t lie. The bastards who’ve come after me today are progressing through the corridors fast, as if they’re familiar with the blueprint of my home, and unless I go now, I might find myself at a disadvantage.
A deep breath.
“Don’t come out before I say so,” I tell Victor, then pull on the edge of the open compartment in the kitchen island, revealing an emergency hideout in the very middle. It’s cramped, and doesn’t provide any food or water, but it should be sufficient to keep him safe for the next thirty minutes. “Get in.”
Victor stares at me and I’m already getting frustrated by the potential defiance spurred on by our argument. There is no time for it.
“Please. Let me come with you. They won’t expect me,” he whispers and grabs my hand, but my will is steel.
“Worrying about you will put me in danger. Please, get in.”
This time, he doesn’t argue but still gives me a quick kiss before crawling into the empty space. “Stay safe,” hesays right before I lock the little door behind him and pull out the handle, in case someone actually searches here. I can open it for him remotely if push comes to shove.
As long as Victor stays quiet, there’s little chance of him being discovered here any time soon, and if things go my way, I shouldn’t need that much time.
One glance at the camera feed in my hand reveals that three invaders are left standing, but if they think knowing the plans of the house can make their job easy, they have another thing coming. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands since moving in here, and many home improvement ideas too. It’s their loss that in my case that phrase usually refers to deadly traps like the one that’s already claimed the life of intruder number four. They’re all upstairs, and if I’m to keep them from reaching the kitchen, I need to act fast.
