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I roll my eyes and sink into the couch. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more overwhelmed in my life.
“Okay, report back with your findings,” I reply, hanging up without saying goodbye.
There’s nothing left to say, anyway. We’re no closer to the formula for the research chemical that we came here for, and now we’re being outsmarted by a sociopath who tortures people for fun.
This is way above my pay grade.
8
Faye
Iwas able to sleep for a couple of hours, and it was honestly the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life. I was always told that being kidnapped would look like a pair of shackled chained to a basement radiator, maybe even a hole dug through the concrete with a grate over the top. I never imagined it would be so restful.
Now that I’m awake, I honestly don’t know how to proceed. I wasn’t given a list of acceptable activities or areas to roam, and I was pretending to be asleep when I was carried up here.
The sun is coming up now, but the blinds are so thick and dense that I can hardly see a thing. I wander over to the far wall near the door, tempted to open it and explore the rest of the upstairs before Aleksander realizes I’ve escaped my enclosure.
Instead, I feel along the wall for a light switch and turn it on.
The room is even cozier and more well-decorated than I thought it was with my limited vision during the night. I’m still shocked that there’s no woman of the house to beat my ass and send me running down the street, begging for mercy after I allegedly fucked her husband.
Honestly, the idea of being punished for fucking Aleksander feels just a little too arousing for my liking. First off, I’m not a cheater, so why would I get off on the idea of stealing someone else’s man? Secondly, He kidnapped me. That should be an automatic, unforgivable offense.
I hate the fact that I even find him attractive at all. What’s wrong with me? I always wanted to believe I was one of those people who believed that your personality and integrity made someone attractive, not their appearance. I remember telling everyone in my high school about how ugly the attractive bulliesreallywere because of their shitty personalities, and now I feel like I’m eating my words one by one.
I walk around the room, excited to see that I have an attached bathroom. It’s just like the kind of bathroom that my rich friends had in their homes when I was growing up. I was always so jealous of them, how clean and modern their fixtures were along the sleek marble countertops. They always thought it was so weird that I noticed those things, telling me I sounded like an old lady. But they didn’t know what it felt like to live in a place where everything feels perpetually dirty.
I suppose that in terms of being abducted, my accommodations are pretty nice.
The stress from the night before is still catching up with me, and a wave of insurmountable fatigue washes over me. My feet feel cradled by the impossibly soft carpet as I walk back over to my bed. When I crawl back in, the warmth of the blankets envelops me like a long hug from my mother on a cold winter morning.
Knowing that this bed is justherefor whoever needs it feels crazy to me. Some people can’t even afford to have a bed at all, sleeping on the floor in a pile of blankets every night. Someone like Aleksander has so much money that he needs to throw it at a giant house just to take up space. Many people would kill for this bedroom, and here I am, being held captive in it.
Is this what it feels like to be a trophy wife?
Just as I begin to contemplate my existence as a single working woman, I hear a knock on the door.
Why is he knocking?
Aleksander walks in before I can answer, holding a plate of food that looks incredible and expensive. There’s no way he cooked all that for himself, just for me. Who the hell is this man?
“I figured you probably hadn’t eaten before I found you,” he says sheepishly as he approaches the bed.
He sets the plate at the foot of the bed instead of handing it to me as if I’m a rabid dog. He’s acting like he’s more scared of me than I am of him, which I find hilarious. Has he just never been this close to a woman before? Hard to believe.
“You know, eventually someoneisgoing to come looking for me. I didn’t even get to leave a fake note or anything. People are expecting me back in a few days,” I say, sliding the plate closer to me.
“What, like a boyfriend?” he replies sarcastically.
I’m insulted that he thinks it’s unlikely for me to have a boyfriend, but the fact that he’s correct is even more embarrassing. “No, not a boyfriend, but I do have a family, friends, and coworkers who all really like me and want to see me come home in one piece. Is that a difficult concept for you? Do you have anyone in your life who cares whether you live or die?”
My words have struck a nerve, and I sit back with a satisfied smile on my face as I watch him reach for a mean response.
“You might want to try a little harder at getting along with me. You’re probably going to be here for a while until I figure this shit out. So, you should chill with the insults,” he warns, crossing his arms.
Even though he’s just posturing, I’m impressed by the way his muscles look under his clothes when he moves his arms like that. He doesn’t look like he just has muscles for the sake of it – I can tell that he’s actually strong enough to kill someone with his bare hands. He picked me up and carried me like I weigh three pounds.
“Well, I can’t guarantee that nobody else is going to come after you. Aren’t you already stressed enough from the shit you’ve got going on? Do you really need more to worry about just because you won’t let an innocent hostage go?”
