Chapter 8
Victor maneuvers the dance to bring himself and Emily to a secluded corner of the café. He needs to speak with her, alone, without any distractions. Those words, that melody, everything about the song screams her feelings for him. The fluttering melody rings clear in his ears, pronounced by her mournfully sweet voice. He needs to tell her how he feels now, now while he still has the chance.
Emily stares at him, confused. "Why are we by the loo?"
Victor turns. Oh. Not the best place to confess, but he can't back out now. "Never mind that." He takes her hands. "I've got to know: did you mean what you said?"
"What?"
"About us, being meant to be." Emily doesn't answer, silently holding his desperate gaze. He keeps going anyway. "Because I think we are. I don't think that this is an accident, you coming back into my life. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you ever since you left. My room is covered with drawings of your butterflies, hoping that maybe that would bring you back to me. And now it has. I never stopped loving you, and you must feel the same, at least a little."
Emily frowns. "And what about Victoria?"
Victor blinks. "What about her?"
"She's your wife. I'm not going to steal away someone else's happiness."
Victor laughs. "Then I'll leave her! If that's all, I'll do it!"
"Oh, just like the way you left me when I brought you back Upstairs?" Emily scowls. "That's rich, coming from you." She wrenches her hands away. "I do care for you, Victor, but I really can't bear to be with you right now. You're acting like a child."
"Emily, please—!"
Emily simply walks away to find another dance partner.
Victor stares after her in utter disbelief. This was not how this was supposed to go.
x
Collin nearly freezes when Emily approaches him, but a sharp glare from Barkis quickly thaws him. The man was intimidating but proving a fantastic mentor. Maybe he'll throw in a little blurb about him when he writes his monetizing article. For now, he must focus on getting said article out of the woman in front of him.
"Hello," she says, her voice light and breathy. "Fancy a dance?"
"Alright."
Thank God the music had slowed down considerably. That stomping sax man was ridiculous. This is a tempo he can dance to without flailing his arms about. He finds a rhythm before mentally preparing a way to go about this. She hadn't looked thrilled with Van Dort when she left him standing by the lavatories. Hmm. Time to turn on the old charm.
"Sorry, I don't think we've met. I wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours." Rough start, but it'll do.
Emily flushes, then smiles. "I'm Emily."
"Collin." He shuffles his feet, moving her away from his table. "You looked like you were having a row over there."
Emily pouts. "Well, he was being unfair."
The music suddenly slows down; Collin glances over to find Barkis leaving the stage. Good man.
He pulls her close and touches his forehead to hers, pulling a classic line he hadn't used in a while. "It sounds like he doesn't respect you much."
Emily melts a little. "No, he's just being really selfish right now."
"You seem like such a lovely woman; if you were mine I'd never be that way. I'd always give into you." More flattery. She's weakening. Barkis is right, music does help speed things along. "Don't you believe in love at first sight?"
Emily's eyes darken. "No. I did, once, but I was wrong."
Damn, he's lost her. Reel it back in, Collin. "You can't be wrong twice."
He leans in closer but stops inches from where he needs to be. When he and Barkis had cooked this up, the endgame was to get her to his home, where he could control her. However, he knows from experience that if he wants to get her there, she has to close the gap, not him. To say he wasn't enjoying himself would be lying. He figures he might as well get a little something extra before he exposes Hunter to the public eye. After that she'd probably be taken away to be experimented on, and then he'd be done with her. She's an attractive woman. What red-blooded male wouldn't take advantage of the situation? Barkis certainly agrees.
He shifts his camera to his side. "Emily," he whispers. "Don't be afraid."
x
Oh. My. Goodness.
All Emily had wanted was to get away from Victor, only to stumble into the arms of some smooth talker who smelled strongly of some sweet cologne only after one thing. On one hand, she could give in and really make Victor sorry. On the other, she could act her age and push him away before she got herself tangled up in another mess.
Revenge, or mess?
Well, if Victor can act childish, so can she.
"Emily, what are you doing?"
Speaking of Victor.
Emily turns to glare at him. "I don't really see how that's your business." Victor opens his mouth, then seems to think of better of it and shuts it again. Emily goes on. "And besides, what is it to you? You're married."
"Look, I know I rushed into things with you, but—"
"No, you can't rush into things, Victor, because there is no 'thing' to rush into between us." The words keep spilling. She's unable to stop, because as much as she loves him she can't let him do this to Victoria. "Why don't you go back to your wife before you do something stupid?"
"Emily—"
"Go!"
Victor turns, embarrassed, and leaves. Collin watches him for a moment, then focuses back on the fuming woman in front of him. This is perfect. They're driving each other apart. Time to bring her home, snag his tip, if you will.
He flashes her a cheeky grin. "Sounds like we should get out of here."
x
Emily rolls over, vision still a little bleary. She doesn't recognize this room at all. Beige walls bare except for a few blurry pictures, a tiny window, a desk with a hulking computer resting on top, a tiny wooden dresser, and a scruffy grey carpet. The room appears as if it belongs to a ghost, hardly any sign of life whatsoever, or at least someone who hardly spends any time in here. She can't blame them. It just looks dreary and sad.
She sits up, the itchy burnt orange blanket slipping down, exposing her to the chilly air. She isn't wearing anything at all, and the only sign that she isn't alone is the faint impression on the other side of the bed. She shivers. Everything hurts, she knows there's some dried blood down there, and all she wants is to get dressed and leave. What on Earth was she thinking? More importantly, for now, where are her clothes?
She rubs at her eyes. That's a little better. She finds her dress torn in half on top of the dresser, her bra rumpled and tossed off into a corner, her panties shredded beside them, and her shoes and purse nowhere in sight. Wonderful. She puts on what she can, which really is the bra, before searching for some other clothes. Collin owes her, really, since he destroyed what she came in. How could she be so stupid? She needs to get back to Victor, back to some form of sanity, to figure out what to do.
Oh God, Victor.
She opens the top dresser drawer and takes out a pair of grey boxers. They're quite big, but they'll stay once she finds some pants and a belt. She locates these in the second drawer, a pair of faded jeans and a tattered brown belt, as well as a massive cable knit brown sweater that smelled of the same cologne Collin had been wearing last night. Ugh. Next drawer.
"Leave it on, it looks nice on you."
Emily tenses and looks up to find Collin standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of dark green boxers, grinning at her as he studies her form. She glares at him.
"Well, I didn't have many other options."
Collin chuckles. "Ooh, yeah, sorry about that. We did get a little carried away last night, but in my defense you didn't tell me you were a virgin."
Emily buries her face in her hands, unable to look at him. So much for saving herself for marriage. "Just tell me where the rest of my things are, please."
"Why?"
Emily looks up at him. "I'm not staying, Collin. This was a terrible mistake." She shuts the drawers and grabs her dress and panties. "I have to get back to Victor. I'll get your clothes back to you as soon as I can."
"You live with him?"
She pushes past him. "Yes, him and his wife, but it's only temporary." She moves to go downstairs to try and find her purse and shoes, but Collin grabs her wrist, stopping her.
"Why don't you just live with me?"
"Collin, I can't, please just let me -"
"I suggest you cooperate, if you want your stay to be comfortable."
That voice.
Emily's blood runs cold. She never thought she'd have to hear it ever again.
She slowly turns back around to find Barkis standing at the foot of the stairs, almost unrecognizable. But that callous sneer is unmistakably his, and she can clearly see the cold black eyes locked on her from behind the contacts he's wearing. Her hands reflexively ball into fists, muscles tightening. She feels like a cornered animal, no way of escaping. How did he, of all people, manage to get Upstairs? This must be some cruel joke from Whoever runs the Attic. Barkis ought to be down in the Basement by now after all that he's done.
Collin groans. "I told you I'd call you if I needed you."
"You were taking far too long." Barkis growls. "We may be working together, but I have more experience than you do. It would behoove you to listen to me, first and foremost." He turns his attention back to Emily. "Don't bother looking for anything. I've taken the liberty of concealing anything you might use to escape." He pushes past them to retrieve something from Collin's desk. "This will either be fairly easy or remarkably difficult. Make your choice."
Emily scowls. "And what, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish?"
Barkis smirks, eyes gleaming with sin.
"Revenge, my dear."