Page 7

Six

Ophelia

Consciousness is a slow drip, creeping back in drop by drop. Everything feels so heavy. I must have taken one of the good sleeping pills last night. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Maybe I’ll just lie here a while longer.

I do, half in and out of sleep, until something starts to nag at me. What is it? A tick. A clock with a loud, irritating tick. Not mine. What the hell?

I still can’t open my eyes. They’re heavy, the lids pinned down with iron weights, just like the ones pressing on my limbs. That tick, though…

Consciousness slips away again.

The tick, and something else. This time, some of the fog has cleared, but it still lingers. What else? The blanket. Mine is furry; this is smooth. What…

Memories. The gun, the car, the man with the fake batman growl. Maggie’s brother.

Sebastian. That’s his name. It comes to me in a rush, along with a flood of images of him at high school. But they fade away, overlaid by one. His face, watching as the drug pulled me under. He’s a man now. He’s a man, and he’s taken me captive .

The fog is swirling away, and I almost miss it. Cold, spiky reality tears away the last of the comforting sleepiness, and I force my sticky eyes open.

“You’re finally up.”

I yelp and try to sit up, but Sebastian’s hands land on my shoulders, pressing me to the bed. I’m in a dimly lit room, and the light casts his face into sharp angles. His eyes are the deep blue of the ocean at dusk, and my gaze is drawn there like a magnet as his weight presses me into the mattress.

“Careful. Don’t move too quickly. It might make you sick. I don’t want to deal with you throwing up all over my bed.”

His bed.

His bed.

Just why in the hell am I in his bedroom? A cell would have made sense. But his bedroom?

I try to speak, but it turns into a cough. Why is my mouth so dry? How long have I been out? Sebastian slides his arm behind my back and lifts me upright. Then he holds a glass to my lips. Water. I sip at it, more of my father’s words echoing at the back of my fuzzy brain.

If you’re held for ransom, eat and drink when you get the chance because you’re at their mercy. Take what you can get while it’s offered.

Too soon, I’ve drained the glass. Sebastian pulls his arm away, and I shift back, pressed against the headboard. The lingering drugs in my system are making me slow but keep me calm. The knot of churning terror in my gut is muted, buried under a sluggish haze. I scan the room.

Floor-to-ceiling windows cover one wall, but black-out blinds mean they’re no use to me. The light comes from a few artfully placed downlights and a statement piece lamp twisted into the abstract shape of a woman. Each item my gaze lands on—subtle artwork, a single chair with a twisted back—seems chosen with a purpose.

It’s an overwhelming impression of luxury, and my eyes flutter closed again, my thoughts blurring, turning fuzzier by the second. I need to stay awake. I need to find out what in the hell is going on. I need to…

***

I’m lying down again. When did that happen? I push straight up, and this time, there’s no Sebastian here to stop me. I pull the blanket down and look at myself. I’m still wearing my work blouse and skirt, though my shoes and jacket are gone. I feel my body all over, from my head down to my toes. Nothing hurts, except a lingering pulse at the back of my head.

Moving like an old lady, I shift my legs off the bed and get to my feet. There’s a moment of dizziness, then my head clears again, thank God. The last thing I need is to collapse.

What did Sebastian say when I woke up before? His bedroom. I’m in his bedroom. My stomach lurches, and I’m not sure if it’s the drugs or the solid lump that just dropped into my guts.

Sebastian hates me, and he has every right to. I never even apologized for what I did. He wouldn’t want me like…that…would he? If anything, he should want me dead. But however much I repeat it to myself as I walk to the blind-covered windows, I’m not really that naive.

I’ve heard the stories.

My father had a business rival, and he ordered my brother and his friends to teach her a lesson. One night, when I wasn’t supposed to be home, I lay awake and listened to Harrison and his drunk friends gloat over exactly what lessons they taught her. Sebastian might not want me at all, but that wouldn’t stop him teaching me a lesson just the same.

Shit.

Reality rolls in, and the calm I’ve been clinging to with my fingernails shatters. Nausea hits full force, and just in time, I see an open door leading to a bathroom. I race in, drop to my knees, and throw up all the water I drank into the toilet before the heaves dissolve into sobs.

Why am I here? What does he want with me?

It plays on an unbearable loop, in time with my pulsing headache. I sob until my throat is raw and my eyes are puffy from crying. Only Dad’s voice pulls me back from the brink.

Pull yourself the fuck together, Ophelia. You’re a Calder. Act like it.

Act like it.

Yes.

I wipe away the tears with some tissue paper and stand to survey the damage. The bathroom is as elegant as the rest of the apartment—gray marble with subtle silver accents. The one thing making the place look ugly is me.

The person staring back from the mirror isn’t a Calder. She’s barely even a human. Streaked mascara, red eyes, hair in a sweaty tangle. My mouth tastes horrible. No. This won’t do. I can’t face what’s coming looking like this. I need to fix it.

Does the bathroom have a lock? No. It was far too much to hope for. I open the cupboards and find a huge array of grooming products. As many as I have in my cabinet at home, if not more. I find the ones I need and do battle with the monster staring back at me.

Cleanser first. I remove all traces of the ruined makeup and follow up with toner and moisturizer to control the redness. There’s no makeup to replace it with—he’s not THAT much of a pretty boy—but it’ll do.

As I work, calm creeps back inch by inch. I’m not some random girl dragged off the street. My family are dangerous, connected, and better resourced than any outsiders know. Sebastian mustn’t understand the extent of my family’s power. If he did, he would have left me alone. I need to convince him I’m too valuable to hurt.

Or to teach a lesson.

Another nauseous twist hits me at that, but this time, I control it. That girl, the pathetic one crying over a toilet, is weak. I’m strong. I need to keep every shred of dignity.

Next, my teeth. Digging in the cupboard, I find an unused toothbrush still in the box. Did he buy it for me, or does he have regular visitors? It doesn’t matter. I scrub and scrub, cleaning every trace of nastiness from my mouth, and my confidence climbs a little higher. I can do this. He’s going to regret whatever plans he’s got for me.

Now, hair. An array of combs, ranging from thick to thin-toothed, do the job. Why does he need so many? His hair isn’t even long.

The more I tidy myself up, the more my body relaxes. My tight muscles loosen, and my breath returns to a normal level. Every time I argued with my dad for some freedom or other, I started by perfecting my appearance. This is just a battle with a different adversary. And, by the look of his toiletries, one just as obsessed with appearance.

After half an hour, I can finally look at myself in the mirror without flinching. I’m ready to tell Sebastian Grange exactly how big a mistake he’s made by taking me and exactly what he’s going to do to fix it. He’s smart. He’ll see sense.

But where on earth is he ?

I try the only other door in the bedroom, and it’s locked. I expected it. This might be his bedroom, but it’s my prison cell. I wind up the blinds and am greeted with a mass of forest. It’s getting dark. Going by the color of the sky, it must be around seven. I’ve been drugged for hours.

From the brief snapshot I got between getting dumped out of the car and having a needle jabbed in my neck, I’d expected woodland, but this is something else. It stretches out for miles, as far as I can see. Where the hell has he brought me? Given the height of this window, I must be in an apartment block. Another building, a tall, gray block studded with windows and balconies, is just visible to the right.

This isn’t some hunting lodge. Gears start to turn in my brain as the shock of what’s happened recedes enough for me to think. Maybe this isn’t personal after all? Everything from when I left the car is blurry—I was too busy trying to yell for help to listen. Stupid of me.

There was some sort of argument about me. Am I just a piece in a deal? Is he mixed up with a cartel and decided to join business with his own goals, settling an old score? I don’t remember Sebastian as the bad boy type, but people change a lot in ten years. For all I know, he could be into some serious shit.

God, I hope so. If it’s business, I have a good chance. I can convince someone higher up to see sense. If it’s personal…

No. Don’t think about that.

A search of his bedroom reveals nothing beyond thousands of dollars’ worth of designer clothing. He knows how to dress. Nothing stands out as strange, except a single drawer stuffed with trashy women’s outfits. Microskirts and ridiculous push-up bras. He must have a girlfriend—one with terrible taste .

It’s comforting, though. He has a girlfriend. How bad can his intentions toward me be?

The more time ticks by, the more my gnawing fear melts, little by little, into irritation. Who kidnaps a woman and then keeps her waiting? What does he have to do that’s so much more important?

It’s bad manners. An insane thought, but it’s true. Why did he bring me here just to ignore me? I’m starving, and drinking water out of the faucet is getting old. The sky has darkened to total black, and my eyelids start to droop. Whatever drugs they gave me must not be out of my system yet.

The bed looks more inviting every second, but I don’t want to give in to the temptation. I’m dressed up, ready for battle. If I fall asleep, I’m vulnerable again. He can surprise me in my sleep, when I’m weak and confused.

No.

That’s probably his plan. I’m not going to make things easy on him. I’m hungry, tired, and at the end of my goddamn tether.

I only hesitate for a second. Then I march to the bedroom door and hammer on it, wrapping myself in all my courage to yell, “Hey! Hey, Sebastian! Get in here. You’ve made a big mistake, but we can fix it. Open the goddamn door!”