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I sigh and look back at the room we’ve just left. Hannah could stay, though. She could stay and lose herself for as long as she likes without me. I could introduce her to Malachi formally, let them find a resolution between them rather than me being here as part of that distraction. He’d entertain her for god knows how long, give her the kind of diversion from her life she needs.
“Gray, keep moving.”
His hand pushes my back again heavily, forcing my feet forward until I’m in an elevator. The doors slide close before I’m fully aware what I’ve done, the steel slowly closing down all escape routes. I stare at them, somehow lost in raging wars in my head. Right and wrong. Rules.
“Poor Gray,” he says. “I don’t like this miserable look of yours. Never have really. You’re too attractive for it. Cruel suits you so much better.”
A burst of laughter comes out of me, as the elevator starts moving upwards. I don’t know why. He’s the only man on the planet that would say that type of thing to me. Everyone else outside this place moves slowly around me, carefully, as if I might bite their heads off for daring to intrude on my thoughts. Not him. He isn’t the slightest bothered if I bite his head off or not. In fact, he’d probably welcome it. “Have a pill. Chill the fuck out, Gray. You’re too hard on yourself.”
He offers me an orange one. Muscle relaxant. I shake my head and watch him sink it into his mouth, his throat swallowing soon after. I don’t want them. Not now I’m thinking of other things outside of here and the research I should be involved in. It takes all I have to get on a plane and come here without tearing myself in two about leaving the lab. And that now I am, with Hannah, I can’t find sense in my thoughts. It’s always been easier before her. Any woman, as long as they’re in black, a need fulfilled because of them. But this has become insatiable. Unusual because of that.
The steel eventually slides open and he walks out into the old brick corridor. We both wander through it until the heavy oak door appears in front of us. He stands still for a moment, letting the security look him over, and then walks through the door as it opens. Two more doors and we arrive in the lobby of his home.
I stare around the expanse, looking for anything that’s changed in the last year or so. Nothing has. I tuck my hands in my pockets, as he leads the way through towards the formal lounge, my gaze taking in the wall hangings and tapestries. They’re as amusing as the man himself is. Completely opposed to his sense of dress, style, or behaviour.
We arrive into the room and he throws himself at the couch, his body landing flat against the rich burgundy cushions. A maid walks in before I even make it to the chair, her neat, clipped voice making me look back at her.
“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
Malachi arches a brow. It means I can fuck her if I want to. I don’t want to. Didn’t want the last one when I was here either.
“Vodka,” he says. “Or gin?”
“Water.”
“No. But alright if you take the pills.”
“No.”
“Then we’ll have vodka.”
The maid curtsies and walks out of the room, leaving us alone. I don’t talk. There’s no point. He knows why I’m the way I am. He also knows I’m not happy about what he’s trying to do here. But at least we’re away from the hedonism downstairs. Perhaps I can find some intelligence now and stop thinking about things I can’t do.
I walk to the window and look out at the forest, all of it like a winter wonderland of snow and ice. I’d never known a landscape suit a person before I met him, not like this does him. It’s everything he is. Cold, merciless to those that try travelling through him. The only one that gets away with it is his wife, Faith. I don’t know why he loves her as much as he does, but he does. He’d kill without thought for her, do anything she asked.
“Do you want to be any different?” he asks out of nowhere.
“Different from what?”
“It’s been ten years, Gray. I’ve known you for seven of those years. Different from that you’ve been those ten years.”
The maid interrupts us, quietly leaving a tray piled with a several decanters of vodka and glasses before she heads out again. He picks up a decanter and pours, eventually standing and walking around to me. “Ten years is a long time.”
I frown and take the drink from him, knocking it back swiftly. Ten years. My gaze roams the landscape again, mind thinking of times gone by. If only I was like him, uncaring for the sense of deceit or games.
“I’ll do it,” he says, walking the room. I keep staring at the view, memories filtering into my thoughts. So long ago now. Ten years. I sigh and close my eyes, remembering the scent of heather. “If you won’t fuck her yourself, I’ll do it for you. We can do the thing.”
My head snaps to him, the words bringing me back. “What?”
“You know what I’m saying, Gray. You’re also the only one who knows how to mix it correctly.”
“No.”
“Why not? You won’t be touching her,” he argues, coming up to me.
“It isn’t safe. You know that. We’ve discussed it.” I look out over the view again, not even entertaining the thought. “It was a stupid dream, Malachi. A fantasy. I barely made it out alive when I tried it, and I didn’t even want to live at the time. There’s no chance in hell I’m letting you do it.”
Besides. It’s not the answer anyway. Never was out there in the real world and certainly isn’t in this scenario. It was just a way of me not caring if I killed myself or not at the time. The real answer to that question, the one I did it for in the first place, is in my head somewhere, buried beneath layers of data and sequencing I haven’t discovered yet.
