She glared at me with a strange fire in her eyes that triggered something alien inside me. The room shifted to something darker, something I had yet to name. And when my eyes fell on the peaks poking from underneath her dress, something lit up in my chest.
I returned my gaze to her face, trying to resist the temptation of her erect nipples. A shiver shot down my spine as the space between us narrowed. Her warm hazel eyes, flashing with defiance, bore into mine, making my blood run cold.
Her scent invaded my senses in such close proximity. Intoxicating. Primal. My eyes traced the perfect curve of her lips, then darted down to her bosom. In an instant, I looked back at her face, wondering why I was distracted by her body.
Without another word, I turned around and began walking toward the door. I couldn’t risk the tension shifting further. I thought she’d make a remark about why I was leaving so suddenly. But she didn’t. She just stood there in silence, watching me walk away.
Once outside, I locked the door behind me and combed my fingers through my hair.
What the fuck was that?
Chapter 7 – Ellie
Five days. That’s how long it’s been since I was trapped in this gilded cage. I still didn’t understand why I wasn’t thrown into a cell in the basement. These people kidnapped me because I knew too much and was probably a threat to someone they were protecting.
So why wasn’t I being treated like a kidnapped person? Why was I fed three times a day with rich delicacies I’d never tasted in my life? Why was I treated like a guest rather than a prisoner?
I’d injured a couple of men on the night of my abduction, and I thought that would trigger some vile reaction from the boss. But there was nothing like that. The man was calm as still water, quiet and composed.
Every day, I woke up to the same boring routine: freshen up, eat, pace around, think, and sleep. That’s all I’d been doing for the past five days. I hadn’t left this room since my arrival at wherever this place was.
My food was always served by a maid who barely looked me in the eyes or even said a word. Because of her prompt delivery, I never went hungry; she always brought my food on time. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The first time she walked into my room with a tray of mouthwatering dishes, I refused to eat. I had no idea what was in the food, so I thought it was best to avoid it. But after she left, the aroma teased my nostrils, making my stomach growl.
For almost three hours, I starved myself, clutching a soft pillow to my chest. From where I lay on the comfy bed, I stared at the food tray, swallowing hard. Hunger pangs bit at my stomach, reminding me I needed food to survive.
I could’ve gone the whole day without even a drop of water. But then I thought it through. I wondered why I wastorturing myself by refusing to eat. If my skepticism stemmed from the possibility that the food might be poisoned, then my logic was flawed.
Why poison me when my jailer could easily snuff out my life with his bare hands without changing a shade? It didn’t make sense at all.
So, I damned the consequences, got out of bed, and rushed over to the table. Besides, the aroma from that tray made it impossible to resist.
Just five days in here, and I was already losing my mind. No phones. No internet access. No books to read. I was trapped in every way possible, and all I wanted was some freedom and some fresh air.
The only person I’d seen in five days was the maid; tall, beautiful with long dark hair and grey eyes. I had no idea where I was because I was blinded on the night of my kidnapping. All I saw every day was this room.
The place was wide, almost twice as large as my living room. The walls were decorated with expensive-looking artworks and a couple of flower vases in strategic corners. The bed was bigger and softer than the one in my apartment.
A large flat-screen TV was mounted on a wall a few feet from a small living area. A couple of plush couches were arranged around a low coffee table.
The room was almost perfect, but it had no windows. No view of the outside to hint at where I was. The door was always locked from the outside, keeping me trapped in this box.
My jailer hadn’t come around since our last encounter when he walked out on me mid-conversation. No one had visited me regarding the case or what they planned to do to me.
I was left alone for reasons known only to my kidnappers. The silence was killing me, and the boredom was messing with my mind. I couldn’t help thinking maybe it’s all part of theirplan—maybe I was feeling exactly what they wanted me to feel. Frustration.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with my hands under my pillow. My mind was reeling with the possible outcomes of this situation. Was I going to survive this? How long were they going to keep me here? How long until someone in the outside world noticed I was missing?
Maybe I should just drop the case and save my own skin. Clearly, that’s all this wicked man wanted: for me to drop the case. Was it wise to jeopardize my safety over this?
I was still deep in thought when the maid’s rhythmic knock snapped me back to the present. Seconds later, the door opened, and she walked in. My brows knitted together as I glanced at the wall clock in confusion.
I’d already had breakfast and lunch; dinner was what was left. Based on her routine, I wasn’t expecting her until seven in the evening. This was just four p.m. Strange. She was never here at this time of day.
“Good evening, Miss Hendy,” she greeted me, her polite voice laced with a Russian accent.
Usually, these were the only words she ever spoke when serving my meals. Nothing more. Nothing less.
