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Chapter Fifteen
NATALIA
The first thing I notice is the pounding in my head. The groan that comes from me isn’t within my control, and I sink further into the pillows around me.
The second thing is the sheer comfort of the bed I’m now evidently lying on. It’s so unlike the one I just shared with Beckett, and that’s when I realise something isn’t right.
The third thing I’m aware of is the presence near me, and as my eyes start to focus, the lighting ricocheting my headache up a notch or two, I struggle to gain traction on my racing thoughts.
Beckett sits there on the edge of the bed, leg crossed over the other, ankle at the knee, casually cutting an apple with my switchblade.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He talks over his shoulder but doesn’t make the effort to glance my way. The sound of the blade slicing through the fruit sends daggers into my head, my hearing heightened to everything around me.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
Reaching to the back of my head, I feel the sizeable lump now nestled in my hair, just catching the minor traces of a scab, too. Thinking quickly, I try to rationalise what’s transcended, and then my hyperawareness triggers. Suddenly, I’m very aware of the room I’m in, the way my body is scantily dressed, and of the fact that Andreas took a bullet.
“You know where you are?” he asks, around a mouthful of apple.
“The land that time forgot.”
That gets a laugh out of him because he knows I’m right. Nothing has changed in this room for years now, and a pit in my stomach opens at the idea of being back.
“Now, you have two options.”
I sit up, the motion causing my dizziness to heighten, but he’s got my attention now. When I came back to London, I had my own plans in mind. Not one included a possible concussion, a dead best friend, and Beckett Knight getting the upper hand.
“And what might those be?”
I harden myself, forcing my walls to protect me in the face of this adversity.
He lifts his left hand, holding up one finger. “One… you can go into the same hole your father is in before daybreak.”
He pauses, and I know it’s intentional. From this angle, I can see the apples of his cheeks ball. He’s smirking at this torture.
“What’s option two?”
Bringing his middle finger up, he now displays two fingers in my direction.
“You remain here, under my control, for six months, and we see if you fit at the end of that term.”
“And if I don’t fit?”
“Well,” he says, popping a new piece of apple in his mouth before facing me, “you have two options.”
I snort, rolling my eyes at this insanity, which only amuses him further.
“You can go into the same hole as your father or…” he pauses, hooded eyes meeting mine, “I turn you loose without a single penny to your name and not an ounce of respect.”
“And if I do?” I gulp, hoping he doesn’t see.
“Do you want to take that chance?”
I do.
I want to take every chance and make this the worst decision of his life, make him the fool, because I’m not going to go quietly.
