Like the last few weeks my day lay out in front of me, as dull and empty as ever. I checked my phone. No new messages. I checked the TV. Nothing new. I kept it on anyway as I lay out on the couch, my bare legs uncomfortable hanging off the two small couch. I have no motivation to move, the cramped, stuffy hotel room I found myself in didn't help the blazing heat wave London was currently experiencing. The air con never seemed to hit the sides and the windows only opened a fraction, not that there was any breeze to let in. So I laid on the couch, the buzz of the TV in the background, wearing the least amount of clothing as I stared at walls of a standard chain hotel room.
Everywhere was clean. Clean but old and any stains on the carpet or sheets looked as if they had been cleaned repeatedly. In the corner lay a camp bed next to the main double bed, making it a family room, the irony not lost on me. Next to the bed was the en suit. Again, small but functioning. A sigh left my lips, the hot air blowing my dark hair out of my face. Frustration welled up inside me, a helplessness taking over myself.
I am so god damn sick of being stuck in this room. So sick of this heat!
I took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. I checked my phone again. No new messages. I contemplated ringing Oliver then, asking him to come back and keep me company. In the end I didn't. He left in the first place to get some space, I doubt he wants to keep his stir-crazy older sister company for longer than he needs to. I changed the channel and wonder how much longer we need to spend in this dump. Was this really worth the extra help Jonathan was offering or if Oliver and I were better off on our own again? But I guess it was too late to change my mind.
I changed the channel again, still nothing new.
Just as I was settling back in to the couch, my breathing slowing and my eyes nearly drifting shut, there was a sharp knock at the door. I sat up, looking at the door behind me. I wasn't expecting anyone to stop by, neither had any one rang to say they. It could have just been Oliver, the amount of times he's forgotten his key card over the past few weeks has been ridiculous. There was another knock on the door.
I stumbled as I got off the couch, my legs had gone stiff and a little sticky after laying for so long. Looking down at myself I accepted that I didn't look the most appropriate for guests but I didn't have time to change. I did however stop to look in the mirror, piling my long hair into a messy bun and trying to look at little more composed. My forehead and nose had a slight sheen but other than that my eyes were clear and I didn't look as red as I felt. I headed to the door.
Neither Jonathan or one of his friends stood at the other side of the door. Nor any hotel staff or Oliver. Instead stood a man I'd never seen before. He cut a dramatic profile in the dimly lit hallway, standing over six feet tall and in an impressive suit. The suit looked as out of place as he did, immaculately tailored and classically styled, it was a dark navy and paired with a white shirt and black tie and yet he looked total at ease, even in the oppressive heat. He had one hand in his pocket and his shoulder were relaxed as he looked straight at me. With him looking straight at me I started to feel uncomfortable, I brought the door closer to me, shielding my body.
I tried looking in his eyes and swallowed, my mouth had gone dry and I had to lick my lips.
"Yes?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.
Like his suit he had a look of classic beauty, a sharp jaw line and impressive high cheekbones. His lips were full and he had a straight nose. But it was his eyes that held my attention. Framed by a pair of thick lashes his eyes seemed to pin me in place, they were a dark green and completely captivating.
"Miss Payne?" he asked, his dark chestnut hair slightly shifting as he coaxed his head to the side. Although his voice was soft it was deep and carried into the room, flooding t.
"Yes," I repeated again, but this time my voice started to crack.
It wasn't just that this stranger knew my name that had me frightened, or his expensive suit and intimidating looks. Neither was it because this was the first person I'd talk in a month who I didn't know. It was that there was something about him, from the moment I opened the door, that unnerved me. His presence was so sure, so in control and confident. It was like he was born with more gravity that the rest of us, a dominance he posed the over the space he occupied.
He was dangerous and I was in his line of sight.
Looking up at him my palms started to sweat and itch, my mouth filled with saliva and a sinking sensation started in the pit of my stomach. He looked straight back at me, a smirk curling the sides of his lips into something wholly more menacing. And without me even having time to try to close the door he had taken two long strides into room, pushing the door forward and me out of the way. Stumbling back I tried to get some distance between the two of us as he closed the door behind him. I barely made is two steps before he turned back around, grabbing me by my throat. I struggled for breath as he dragged me forward, my bare feet scrapping across the worn carpet.
He pulled me close, my ear to his lips. He smelled clean and fresh and his breath blow over my ear.
"Are we alone darling?" he murmured, his voice low and smooth. From the corner of my eye I could see him looking at me up and down, closely. My eyes started to prickle and my nose stung from breathing so heavy. Then slowly his hand started to tighten around my throat, making it harder for me to breath. My feet scrambled beneath me, trying to support me whilst my hand went up to claw at the hand around my throat. Nothing helped and in the end I nodded my head as best I could.
Yes, we were alone.
There was a pause before he let me drop, I fell hard on my behind. I didn't wait a second before I started to scuffle back, my back hitting the wall. I watched him as he turned to lock the door, my breath coming out in uneven spurts. He didn't look at me as he walked around the room, closing all the curtains. As I watched him I brought my knees up, holding them close to by chest.
"What do you want?" I finally chocked out, my voice sounding brittle and broken. He continued to not look at me as he walked in front of the television, he stood watching it a while. It was now the only light in the room and it throw odd shapes across his face, casting shadows in strange angles.
I watched him as he reached down for the remote, saw that my mobile had been left next to it, and turn the TV on mute. The room was now quiet except for my rattling uneven breath. It was only then that he turned back to me again, pinning me with his inescapable eyes. He had both hands in his pockets now, looking down at me. I wished that he'd go back to watching TV.
"You know, normally I don't bother with this type of thing. it's a little...trivial." he spoke directly to me, amused and almost apologetic, like he would hate to offend me.
"The trouble you've made, it wouldn't normally even reach my attentions, never mind cause me any kind of distress. But, I guess I could do with someone owing me a favour or two. That, and there is Mathews." he explained, watching my me carefully.
"We're becoming quite the little acquaintances, him and me." I knew there was no point denying it now, he knew all he needed to and now I knew for sure what he was.
"What about Jonathan?" I asked, I'd wiped at my eyes and straightened my back, trying to look at least a little dignified. All I wanted was to get this over with now.
He came to stand directly in front of me, looking me up and down again, seeming to consider me for another moment before I had to look away. Knowing what he wanted didn't make me fear him any less.
"I just want to talk awhile,"
"and then kill me" I interrupted, still not looking at him but feeling that smirk curl his lip.
"Let's not be too hasty love, we could have some fun first." He was definitely laughing at me now. I couldn't help it as my neck snapped up to glare at him, the suggestiveness he had finished that sentence with.
Before I knew it, or could realise how helpless it was, I was on the move, throwing myself onto my knees as I raced towards the couch. If I could get to my phone I could call Jonathan. He'd promised. Promised to keep me safe. I felt a hand around my ankle and I kicked out, pretty sure kicking him in the face. I heard a grunt and I was free to move, completely grateful for how small the room was.
Sitting up on my knees I grabbed the phone off the arm rest, it was cheap burner phone, small and made of plastic but before I could even press one button I felt a sharp kick in my ribs. I rolled over on to my back, no breath and the bright TV flashing over head, blurred by my tears. In the corner of my eye I saw his shadow reach down, he didn't bother going for the phone though. He just grabbed the other arm and pulled me back on to my knees. I let out a cry, a sharp pain shot through my side as he held me.
"Give me the phone, Harriet." he said calmly, looking at me like a bug ready to squash. My legs began to cramp under me and my mind was dizzy from the speed that everything had taken. For a second I considered rebelling, somehow finding a way to fight him off. But before I had the chance he began bend my wrist, twisting it the wrong way as shooting pains running the length of my arm, stealing my breath and leaving my completely in his mercy. Quicker than I would like to admit I had dropped the phone in to his out stretched hand, giving up completely.
Next time, I told myself. Next time I would fight a little longer.
Except this I time he didn't stop.
My eyes snapped to his in an unspoken question. I did what he wanted, I gave him the phone, he should have let me go. I started to struggle as the pain became worse. Whimpers escaped my sealed lips.
But he kept on twisting. Twisting until there was a snap.
I cried out as he dropped my hand. I brought it close to by chest. He had broken my fucking wrist. I stared up at him accusingly, tears staining my cheeks, as he stood up. Looking down on me he slipped the phone into his jacket, making it disappearing into a hidden pocket as he smirked.
He turned his back to me then, and sat on the couch to face me. Crossing one leg over the other, he lent back and looked as if he already owned the place.
He made the worn chair look like a throne.
And I sat at his feet, looking up at him, holding my injured arm.
"Let that teach you a lesson, little girl." he said, all amusement dropped.