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As Jacob heads off to bed, I finish my drink and open up my phone, sending Aidan a message to tell him he’s a fucking wanker. Let him figure out why. There’s any number of reasons.
I push to my feet and subdue a yawn. My fucking leg hurts again and I limp upstairs toward my bedroom. As I pass Eleanor’s room, I pause for a moment and listen. There’s not a sound coming from within. I wonder if she’ll manage to sleep tonight. I hope for her sake she can. Tomorrow won’t be easy for her. If she wants to survive, she’s going to have to be tough.
CHAPTERFIVE
Eleanor
As sunlight floodsinto the room, I slowly peel my eyes open. My vision is blurry and it takes several long seconds before I can focus enough to see my surroundings. A part of me had hoped I would wake this morning in my own bed, to discover I’d had a bad dream, but it seems I really am here, a prisoner in the Donovan’s country mansion.
I wonder, briefly, what happened to the man they tortured last night and then set thoughts of him aside. There are more pressing things for me to worry about, like my own fate.
I get up from the bed and go to the window. I try to open it, but it’s nailed shut. It doesn’t matter. There’s a long drop to the ground and I’m not the type to go shimmying down drainpipes. That would require a better head for heights than the one that’s on my shoulders.
Though I hate the thought of being trapped in this room, I can’t help but admire the view. There’s a walled garden down below, laid out in a very traditional style with lawns and flower beds. There’s a little pergola with a wrought-iron table and a couple of chairs in it. That would be a great spot to enjoy afternoon tea.
Beyond the formal garden there’s a wild meadow, carpeted with daisies and buttercups. It’s surrounded by woodland and who knows what comes after that,
It would be easy to slip into a daydream while gazing out into the beauty of nature, but the scraping of a key in the lock on my door startles me. I turn, heart racing, as the door swings open.
Expecting Rory, I’m surprised when his younger brother, Jacob, comes into the room, carrying a tray. In black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and with his face unshaven, he looks uncharacteristically disheveled.
“Brought you some breakfast,” he says, as if the plate of bacon and eggs, the toast, orange juice and coffee required explanation.
“Why? Where’s Rory?”
“He’s on the phone with Aidan.”
“They’re discussing me?” I ask, and Jacob nods. “Am I…will I make it out of this?”
Jacob sets the tray down on the dressing table, the only available space to put it other than on the bed.
“I’ve gotta be honest with you, I don’t know.” He rubs the back of his neck, apparently ill at ease with the situation. He steps back toward the door. “Eat your breakfast before it goes cold.”
As he turns to leave, I call out to him. “Jacob.”
He spins around to face me.
“What do I do?” I ask wishing my voice hadn’t taken on that note of desperation. “How do I get through this?”
“By doing whatever Rory tells you to do.”
The sense of being trapped intensifies at the thought of being at Rory’s command. My eyes water as I blink back tears. I don’t know how Rory feels about me right now. I have no idea what he’ll expect of me.
Jacob tilts his head, gesturing toward the food he brought me. “Seriously, eat your breakfast before it gets cold. The eggs are amazing.”
As he walks out and locks the door behind him, despair claws at me. I go to the bathroom and hover over the toilet, anticipating that my sudden nausea will lead to me throwing up, but it doesn’t. I wash my hands and head back out into the bedroom, taking a seat at the dressing table. If I’m not going to get sick, I might as well eat my breakfast.
Perhaps I should assume it’s a good sign they decided to feed me this morning. Unless, of course, this is someone’s idea of a suitable last meal. I dismiss the thought. Rory brought me out here for a reason. If he’d wanted to kill me, he would have taken me to some abandoned warehouse, not to his family’s country home. At least, I hope that’s the case.
Trying not to look at myself in the mirror, because I’m a complete mess, I scoop up a forkful of scrambled eggs. Jacob was right. They are delicious, rich, buttery and seasoned perfectly. I wonder whether he or Rory cooked this and then decide they probably have a housekeeper.
The coffee is a bit strong for my tastes, but I drink it anyway. The orange juice is sweet and has some pulp in it, so I guess it’s freshly squeezed. It’s really refreshing, and I feel invigorated after drinking it. That’s good. I suspect I’ll need my wits about me when Rory finally shows face.
Almost as if I’ve conjured him up, the door opens and the man himself walks in. I set down my knife and fork and swivel around on the stool to face him. He looks amazing this morning in black dress pants that hug his muscular thighs and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His forearms are strong and tanned and he’s wearing a wristwatch, something I find incredibly sexy. A lot of men rely on their phones to tell them the time these days, but you can’t beat a nice watch with a thick leather strap.
I startle as Rory drops something on the floor at my feet. It’s my weekend bag.
“Tidy yourself up,” he instructs. “My sister-in-law will be here in an hour.”
