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Or he has, and it just doesn't matter to him.
I'm not sure yet.
My breath catches when my eyes settle on the wall beyond Laurent. It's filled with different screens showing different videos. Is this part of his act to freak me out? I scan the screens, trying to figure out what they are.
In the far corner, one of them is me.
As in, me right now. Bound and tied up in a chair.
If one of the screens is a live feed, then likely all of them are. The videos being played all seem nondescript. One is a shot of a street. Another looks like a sterile looking living room. Is this his security system for the place where he's holding me hostage? I don't have the slightest clue where I am.
The view of the street is unfamiliar.
There are no windows in the room I'm in. It's a basement, I think, because there's a set of stairs leadingupto a door. So I'm in a basement in a random house somewhere, with my psychopathic godfather who tried to kill me once before.
Great.
I scan the room again, this time trying to think of any way I can escape. I'm still wearing my heels, and while the stilettos could be a weapon, I'm not sure how I would use them to free myself from the rope binding me.
There are so few options.
Panic starts to set in.
Judging from the dried blood on Laurent's jacket, I must have been here at least an hour. Alexander must know I'm missing by now. Did he find my engagement ring in the garden? He's all I can think about.
If I'm still alive, then the baby should be alive too. All my pain is concentrated in my head, my swollen fingers and my ankle. My stomach doesn't hurt apart from the need to puke, which is a good sign.
I need to stay calm and look for an opening.
"Ah, you're finally awake."
My eyes snap to Laurent. He's set his paper down. The cigar is held between two of his fingers now, and he's watching me with a serene look on his face. His tone makes my blood boil.
He's addressing me like we're old friends and it's a happy coincidence that we're here, not like a man who just knocked me unconscious and kidnapped me.
"Why am I here?" Gosh, my voice sounds like shit. I wriggle against the restraints even though I know it serves no purpose. "Let me go."
He smiles, revealing straight white teeth.
Laurent has always seemed so normal to me. Kind, even. I've always been wary of him because I considered him my father's closest friend, but he never treated me with any kind of malice. He never gave off any indication that he could be this sick and twisted.
Just looking at him now makes me feel immensely stupid.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Alize," he says, puffing out a long plume of smoke from his lips. "It's nothing personal, though. Don't worry about it."
Ah, yes.
He said that earlier when he took me too.
"What does that even mean?" I snap. "You hurt me thenkidnappedme. How can that not be personal?"
He doesn't miss a beat, moving past what I've asked, unfazed. "You certainly look well." I hate the way his dark eyes scroll over my body. I'm suddenly aware of just how I look—the ripped dress, the swollen ankle, the dried blood all over my neck and shoulders. "Who knew a few months was all you needed to blossom?"
I frown. "You're a sick fuck."
Laurent laughs.
Like, a full belly laugh. It reverberates through the room we're in, grating on my nerves as I desperately wish I could stuff the newspaper down his throat to shut him up.
