Chapter 9-SUNDAY

Katie Fitch found herself waking in a room she did not recognize and quickly shut her eyes again as a hangover greeted her. The pressure behind her forehead was growing and she felt drained. Trying to breathe deeply and quell any nausea that might arise, she rolled from her left side onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, but the sunlight stealing in from the around the edges of the heavy curtains only heightened her discomfort. Katie closed her eyes again. Behind her head, the pillow molded around her head and the bed enveloped her deeply. Katie let out a small gasp of contentment. The sheets were wonderfully soft against her bare skin—Katie's eyes snapped open a third time. She was positive that she had not been naked when she had gone out the night before. Tugging the sheets and blankets higher around her neck, she stared up at the high cream-colored ceiling and the sharp, deeply stained wood molding that edged it. Inset lights peeked down at her from inside their holes and a massive fan hung idly in the center.

Slowly, the weekend swam back into focus. After Emily had left on Friday afternoon, Katie had collapsed onto the sofa and tried to take a nap, but found sleep difficult to come by, her dreams plagued by visions of hooded men, shouting, and an endless maze of passages from which she could not escape. Her immediate impulse had been to go out and get royally fucked with a couple of friends from work, but neither returned her calls. Irritated, she had decided to go out anyway to a bar she frequented and knew she would feel safe. The night had passed without incident; the bartender noted her sour disposition despite her best efforts to mask it and gladly provided her with a steady supply of beer throughout the evening. After turning down a handful of invitations from hesitant-looking young businessmen to leave with them (she smiled remembering that she had gladly accepted their proffered drinks, however), Katie had the bouncer hail her a cab and returned home.

Katie turned her head slowly to appraise the rest of the room. A large window occupied most of the wall on the far side of the bed; thin sheets were covered by thick curtains covered in elegant patterns of indigo, amber, and burgundy. There were pictures hung on the wall on either side of the window, which seemed to be part of a set painted of fog-wreathed mountains reaching upwards into a clear blue sky. Katie cast her gaze past the foot of the bed where another, slightly smaller window near the far corner and adorned with the same curtains was responsible for the light peeking into the room. But she found herself bewitched by the massive oil piece centered on that wall. Following the motif of the two pieces of art on what was the southern wall, this one's subject-matter was mountains as well; moreover, it was a specific mountain as well as its perfect replica on the surface of a smooth lake ringed by massive evergreens.

Whoever it is you found last night, girl, he's a keeper, she thought to herself trying to figure out how much a work like that would cost. Quickly giving up trying to do math while hung over, Katie flashed back to the previous day. She had woken up around noon after sleeping off Friday night's drinks with an assist from her curtains, which were always closed the whole way to prevent this sort of discomfort. Katie blinked several times, continuing to adjust. She had milled about for an hour or so, sipping at tea and nibbling at some toast, before deciding she needed some therapeutic shopping...and to get the fuck out of Bristol. She had showered up, picked an outfit that would be comfortable enough for the train ride into London, but flattering all the same. You've never dressed down in your entire life, Katie told herself proudly. Fidgeting in the king-size bed, she tried to stretch out as she recalled the whirlwind shopping for some new seasonal going-out dresses and ensembles at every haute couture store she could make it to before they closed.

Glancing towards the wall she had faced upon waking, Katie took note of the bathroom door left ajar to her far left by the corner intersecting the wall behind the bed. Beyond it, the bathroom looked just as well-appointed as the bedroom. Katie also surmised that the other two doors on that wall led to a closet and out of the room. She rolled back over and studied the imprint in the mattress from whomever she had shared the bed with the previous night. A simple digital alarm clock sat on the bedside table along with a modern-looking lamp that felt out-of-place in the otherwise traditional bedroom. But it was the picture next to the clock that held Katie's interest. In a moment of sobering clarity, the rest of the previous evening came back to her. The flirtatious phone call. The frantic attempt to find a hotel room to check into and clean up for the hastily arranged rendezvous—and have somewhere to come back afterwards. Taking a cab across the city to the fashionable, modern restaurant that spent more time arranging and decorating their entrées than cooking them. Leaving to go to a club down the street; being escorted directly to a VIP lounge. Electronic music pulsating throughout the building, lasers dancing wildly, and her dragging her date out to the dance floor.

Holding the sheet to her breast, she sat up and slid over to pick up the photo, her mouth falling open at its subjects. The picture was of a teenage boy and his younger sister standing on the banks of the Thames with the imposing façade of Parliament loomed in the background. The boy had a roguish grin on his face as the wind tousled his dark hair. To his right, the young girl stood without a smile on her face, her long brown hair falling straight behind her slight shoulders. Katie noticed they had the same eyes, lit from within by some unknown passion; otherwise, the girl's face betrayed nothing.

"How are you feeling, Katie?"

Katie jumped and dropped the picture on the bed as the voice broke the soothing silence of the bedroom. She took a deep breath and picked up the picture, taking great care in placing it back on the bedside table. Once it was back in its original place, Katie turned to greet the man who had spoken from the door leading out to the hall.

"Jesus, Tony! I swear, you and your sister must've been awful on your parents, sneaking around like that. Didn't you ever hear of knocking?"

"In my own house?" Tony Stonem pretended to muse on this suggestion, pursing his lips as he moved silently across the grandiose Oriental carpet covering the wood floor. He sat lightly on the foot of the bed as Katie sat up cross-legged in the middle of the bed, still clutching the sheet to her. As he leaned in to kiss her lightly, he shook his head. "I'd never dream of it."

Katie quickly pulled away. "So this is your home? Isn't that a little more personal than we usually are?"

"I suppose. Is that a problem for you? I guess I was sick of marginal hotel beds when I have such a sublime one awaiting me—us—here. And those pesky check-out times...unacceptable." Tony leaned back in for another kiss, placing his right hand on Katie's left, and pressing his lips to hers insistently. After a moment he brought his lips up to her ear and whispered, "They always get in the way of a good wake-up."

Katie rolled her eyes and slipped her hand out from under his to push him back slightly. Cupping his face and patting it condescendingly, she retorted, "Then you shouldn't have gotten me so trashed last night. Hungover sex is no fun at all, sweetheart."

Tony laughed lightly. "I have the cure for that being cooked downstairs as we speak. Shall we?" He stood and extended his left hand out to Katie while stooping to pick up her discarded bra from the floor. She shook her head and pointed at the undergarment in his hand.

"I'll take that, thanks. See you downstairs, yeah?"

"Of course. Once you get down the main stair, make a right and the kitchen will be back down the hall on your left." Tony handed her the bra and started for the door. A final time he turned back and, nodding towards the cocktail dress laid carefully on a chair next to him, said, "You can either change back into this, or rummage through Effy's things next door."

"Thanks," said Katie. Tony just nodded and left. She spun and dangled her feet off the side of the bed, the rug just barely out of reach and quickly slipped her bra back on; she took her time standing and moving over to where a lace thong lay forgotten on the wood floor. As she regained a slight measure of modesty, Katie focused again on her breathing and easing the headache continuing to throb dully behind her temples. Before heading out to find some clothes, Katie ducked into the bathroom to find some drugs for the headache. It seemed Tony had had a similar issue when he had awoken earlier; a small bottle was sitting out on the counter with the top only partly screwed back on top.

Katie left the door to the master bedroom open and opened the first door on her right, assuming it to be the room Effy stayed in when she visited…if she still visited. She stepped inside hesitantly, feeling like she was intruding even though no one was there. The room was spartan compared to Tony's room: a low-standing queen bed covered in a simple white duvet and two white pillows was centered on the wall to the right of the door, the wood floor was bare, a simple light taupe-colored dresser sat facing the bed, and the walls were as naked as the floor, painted white. As Katie approached the dresser, she noticed there were two pictures set up on top of it, next to each other at acute angles. One was a print of the picture Tony had at his bedside. The second was a picture of her and Freddy. A lump catching in her throat, Katie reached out and brushed the photo lightly with her finger. She frowned and looked at her finger, which was covered in a fine layer of dust. Apparently Effy had not been here in quite some time.

Opening the top drawer, Katie found an assortment of too large t-shirts and some grey cotton shorts. Hastily pulling them on, Katie backtracked out of the room and closed the door softly behind her. The upstairs hall ran transversely across the house; Katie could see the windows looking out to the west in a room at the other end. There was a maroon and gold runner placed along the wood floor, soft and warm under her feet. Katie found her mouth falling open as she moved forward down the hall and the wall to her right gave way to an ornately carved marble railing stretching between pillars holding up the roof high above. On her left, another large landscape painting was framed by curtains held back by gold sashes.

Katie took a step down onto the landing at the top of the main staircase and slowly wheeled around, looking up above her where the ceiling was half-domed and depicted, in great detail, numerous eagles and hawks circling or alighting on the uppermost branches of leafless trees. Their wings outstretched and tail feathers fanned out for greater stability, each bird had been painted so precisely down to the last feather and glint off a shiny yellow beak that Katie felt she was looking straight through the roof and up into the spring sky. Lowering her gaze down, she found that the circular landing had two heavy-looking wood doors directly across from the stairs. Through the foot-wide gap in them, Katie could make out several plush chairs, table lamps, and built-in bookcases filled from floor to ceiling. Not one to read, Katie had to admit that it was still overwhelming.

From downstairs, the unmistakable aroma of bacon and eggs wafted up. Inhaling deeply, Katie turned and looked out at the foyer with a childish grin on her face. The stairs were easily fifteen feet wide; the marble railings from the hall upstairs dove sharply down towards the floor, ending in a tight spiral topped with a sharp point on either side. The runner also cascaded down, beckoning Katie towards the smells of breakfast. As she stepped onto the main floor below, Katie half expected to see sets of armor guarding the doors to the various rooms off of the foyer, but apparently Tony had better taste than that.

Large sofas, straight-backed chairs, and coffee tables with crystal centerpieces and neatly arranged books were centered on four tapestries. Katie gawked at each in turn, noting that if she had just entered the front door, the woven pieces would begin their narrative on her left and move counterclockwise around, ending on the immediate right of the door. As it was, she found herself standing at the foot of the stairs between the second and third tapestries. They seemed to be religious in nature, which puzzled her, as Tony had very little religious affiliation as far as she knew. But their grandeur was undeniable. Between the tapestries on each wall was a door leading to another room, and on either side of the stairs a narrow passage led further into the house. Remembering the directions Tony had given her, Katie looped around the edge of the stairs and followed the passage back towards the origin of the delicious smells filling the rest of the house.

Katie was not surprised to find that the kitchen was as beautiful as the rest of the house. Upon first glance, it seemed that there were no appliances, save the island range and oven, and the cherry cabinets and cases surrounded the room; however, Katie realized this was not the case and the wide refrigerator and dishwasher had cherry coverings to provide a unified appearance. Granite countertops ran the length of three walls and covered a second island. The back wall had been knocked out and a nook with three large windows and plush window seats surrounding an antique table.

"God, you have an amazing home," Katie blurted out as she entered the kitchen. Tony looked up from his tablet and shrugged modestly. Katie looked over at the small man frantically working in front of the range preparing their breakfast. "And you have a cook?!"

"Only in the evenings on weekdays and on the weekends. I know you aren't feeling particularly well, but I trust you can find something to eat out of bacon, eggs over medium, and muffins?"

"Yeah, I'll manage," said Katie quietly as she wandered over to the nook and looked out at the perfectly manicured backyard and gardening that surrounded it. "I knew you had done well for yourself, but this is fucking insane, Tony. Is all of this yours? Like, did you buy it?"

"I bought the house. Well, I suppose it's more accurate to say I'm buying the house, as I don't own it entirely yet. But I mean to. I've made some investments over the years in some of the more decorative aspects and furniture of course, but the previous owners had lost possession of it when I was just entering university and it sat unsold for several years. I got it at a bargain two and a half years ago."

"Yeah, I'm sure 'bargain' is a relative term in this case." She turned back to face Tony. "You've never brought me to your home before; why start now?"

Tony put down the tablet and walked over to the table, sliding onto a window seat and looking out the window, deep in thought. "I met your sister on Friday morning."

'Yeah, she told me and I about choked to death. What the fuck was that all about? She doesn't know about us, Tony. Doesn't need to know. What does that have to do with you finally allowing me into your house?"

"Quite a lot, actually." The cook brought two full, hot plates of food over and set them on the wood table, returning a moment later with silverware for each setting and a cup of tea for each of them. Tony motioned for Katie to sit, which she did warily.

The night before, when she had called Tony, it had been because she needed to forget about her problems for a night; to feel wanted and desired; to feel a connection with someone for a reason other than pain and terror as she had for the past week. Tony's shift toward secrecy and talking around the issue had put her on edge. It should have set off warnings when she realized they were not in a hotel room as was the usual arrangement when Katie would escape Bristol and meet up with Tony. The clandestine dates had begun a little over a year earlier, when she met him at a gala event associated with the introduction of a new product line for SSI. He had approached her late in the evening and Katie had recognized him straight away, due to the piercing blue eyes he shared with his sister, and the disarming grin he wore in every photo shoot and interview piece.

"Are you going to eat?" asked Tony expectantly. Katie snapped out of her reverie and nodded. She slowly chewed a bite of her muffin and looked across the table.

"Well, answer my question, Tony. Why the fuck didn't I wake up in a suite downtown like usual, and instead am sitting in your kitchen with you and your cook eating what is actually really good hangover food?"

"It's not safe for you out there, Katie."

"Yeah, no shit. That would have been prescient a week ago, don't ya think?" She took a frustrated stab at cutting off a piece of egg. Tony laid his fork and knife down and took a deep breath.

"Katie, I'm sorry. There's a lot I still don't understand, but I care about you. I'm doing this for your own good—I can't think of another way."

"Doing what?" Her eyes narrowed and that uneasy feeling was beginning to wash over her in waves.

"I cannot allow you to leave the house except for short trips and so long as you consent to allowing a couple bodyguards to escort you. You cannot return to Bristol on your own. Wait until I'm finished." He held up a hand to ward off her protest. "Bristol isn't safe after last week. Effy hardly visits anymore; you can either sleep in her bed, or with me. I do not care which."

"The hell you don't!" spat Katie angrily, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the cook had disappeared from the room. "Who the fuck do you think you are, that you can just keep me here? You don't own me, Tony Stonem. You're a fantastic shag and we get on, but I can take care of myself. Actually, that's probably just because I'm wasted every time I'm with you. I'll be going."

"I'm sorry, Katherine," Tony said levelly as she stormed out the door and back up the passage towards the foyer. She heard him call out from behind her, "This is not up for debate. I'm sorry for giving you that impression."

Katie snorted and rolled her eyes as her step quickened up the passage. When she reached the foyer, she realized that Tony had had no reason to rush after her: sitting in various chairs and on couches in the entry hall were four burly, bald men who Katie immediately stereotyped as ex-military. Behind her, Tony leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, his hands in his pockets and left foot crossed over his right ankle.

"Like I said, Katie, it wasn't up for debate."

Katie turned around slowly and fixed him with a furious stare, but its effect on Tony seemed minimal. He simply smiled.