"You lay awake with thoughts of murder and carnage."
—24, Lana
I woke up to the fluffy pillow and plush quilted duvet. My throat was dry and my head was dizzy. I tried to get up but the room spun and blurred like crazy. Palming my temple, I blinked a couple of times before finally made to sit against the chesterfield headboard. And without a second thought I grabbed a glass of water on the bedside table, drinking it all. I didn't realize I was so freaking thirsty until now.
My eyes wandered around this spacious room, taking my surroundings. The curtains were pulled open, unveiling the glass wall and the magnificent morning ocean view behind it. There were L-shaped tufted sectional sofa in the middle of the room and a huge flat screen television attached to the sidewall. And on my left, the opened sliding door revealing some large and luxury walk-in closet, filled with masculine clothes and shoes.
Shit, where the hell was I?
Before I managed to observe more, my full bladder made itself known. When I was sure I was alone in the room, I slid in to the ultra lavish bathroom and emptied the content of my bladder, watching around in awe. This was beyond posh. The bathtub, the double washbasins, the toilet, the floor, the freaking detailed interior, everything absolutely screamed money here.
As I washed my hands, I found the countertop was well-stocked by toiletries. Bvlgari, it read. This convinced me even more that this room belonged to someone. Man, specifically. Goddamn, don't let it be…
As if answering my gut feeling, all of a sudden the atmosphere around me changed dramatically. The hair on my neck raised and I could feel the shiver down to my spine. The feeling was a bit nostalgic. The tension was so intense I unconsciously gripped the side of the countertop. I remembered the reaction everywhere. And the one who gave this particular effect on me.
For a long moment, none of us said anything. I knew he was enjoying my discomfort. I knew he knew his presence agitated me extremely. Especially after our last encounter.
"How are you feeling?" he asked smoothly, but void of emotions at once. As if the question was out of formality. Of course. I didn't expect him to care, though.
I was silent at first, either because I couldn't find my voice or I was collecting my last courage to face him. His boring gaze to the side of my head was too noticeable to ignore, sending me bad vibes and even more discomfort.
"Where am I?" I dared to ask, even though with shaky voice, not replying his previous question.
"My house." He said, without missing a beat.
"Where?" Because I was sure we weren't in Orlando.
"Tampa."
I turned to face him at that, spontaneous response. To protest, demanding his real motive. Instead, what I saw made me stifle a gasp. There he was, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his legs to the ankles. He was only wearing pants and a white dress shirt which was rolled up to his elbows. It was dusty and wrinkled and the most important thing that shocked the shit out of me was…his front was mostly stained with dry crimson red.
Fuck, the man looked like he just slaughtered someone.
I quivered at the thought.
Sensing my fear, he took one step toward me. Or three. Until we were separated by small gap only. And the strong smell of blood filled my nose. I averted my eyes from the disturbing view and focused at his weary face instead. At the amused expression and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Why did you take me here?" It was so hard to divert my attention from the freaking blood. And the thought he probably just did the dirty work, like murdering someone didn't sit well on me. I was scared, of course I was.
"What should I do then? Letting you die just like that? Where's the fun in that?" His smile was sinister. And a twinkle of mischief in those greens told me he was enjoying this too much. I took a step back. Involuntarily.
He stared at me intently while unbuttoning his bloodied shirt. I knew damn well I should look away, but hell, my eyes were glued to his body. This felt strangely intimate, but not in the sexual way. Well, maybe a little. Still, mostly his gesture kind of emphasized that he wanted to show me all of him. To make me see him thoroughly and explore his dark secrets and wonder the meaning behind those stunning permanent inks.
His body was a work of art.
All the tattoos started from both of his upper arms, rising to his shoulders, then down to the torso region. All the symbols, calligraphic words, and the portrait of a woman I didn't know about connected as one, as if those freaking tattoos were made by design and were done entirely in a day. Exquisite. Perfect.
He tucked the stray of my lilac hair behind my ear. And the movement interrupted the train of thoughts that had been running through my head, switching all attention back to those spellbinding emeralds. The tip of his forefinger skimmed my jaw innocently, dragging it down and half-circling my neck.
I was astonished as he gently held the back of neck, drawing us closer. There was something in him, mainly in this typical situation that I felt he almost let his guard down for a split second. Like he softened a little. I knew because I was aware I did it too. Shameful. Inappropriate. But this shit happened.
He tilted his head a bit to the side, coming closer and closer until his lips lingered over mine. Time slowed its pace. We inhaled each other breath, mesmerized by the impact. His tongue darted out, licking my bottom lip slightly yet so seductively. Then, he kissed me. Deep but so, so quick. Like a drop of honey. Tasted so sweet, but not enough. And when I blinked, he was gone. Standing a few steps away from me. That cocky smirk and evil demeanor were back. Leaving the confusion on my side.
"Get out of here before I drag you to the shower with me, sweetheart."
There was a challenge in his voice. And I knew he wasn't joking.
So I exited the bathroom without giving him a second glance.
I sat on the couch, facing the ocean view, confused and kinda frustrated. Of what just happened. Of what this situation was turned out. What did this man want from me? And importantly, where did I go from here?
Running away indeed was not an option remembering I was in the dangerous territory. Imagine how many guards were on duty in this house and how many cctvs were planted at every corner of the room.
Would I dare to try, though?
Not three minutes later, there were taps on the door. Paul entered the room, giving me a small smile. He put two large paper cups and two take-out bags on the table in front of me. Damn, I could smell bacon, egg, and coffee from there. But before I could question him anything, the man exited the room.
Fucking great.
Because of those tempting stuffs, I acknowledged how much I was starving right now. But of course, I couldn't just grab and devour them, right? I mean, was one of those really for me? What if it was all for Edward to eat? Men usually had a huge appetite. And it was kinda weird I was fed so kindly. I decided not to touch the meal even though my stomach growled like crazy.
Edward was out of the bathroom ten minutes later. His hair was damp and the nice scent of his body wash was hanging in the air. He went straight to the walk-in closet and put on clothes without closing the damn sliding door. His very naked back was completely on display, including his freaking fine ass. I snorted and shifted my gaze. How very modest of him.
After what seemed like ages, the man came out, dressed nicely in navy suit and polished shoes. He joined me on the couch, sipping his coffee and opening his take-out bag at the same time. Damn, it was bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich.
"The food doesn't suit your fancy, huh?" his eyebrow was raised. He acted like nothing happened between us a moment ago. I didn't how he did that. I decided not to answer his sarcasm, but made a move to grab the coffee. Awkward minutes later, after he finished his meal, he got up from his seat. "Just ask Paul if you need anything." With that he left the room without waiting for my reply.
The day went on. I admitted this house was much better than that scary warehouse, but with Edward, you would never know. Right now he could be planning something brutal behind.
I exploited the luxury of his bathroom, rubbing all the dirt of my skin until I felt so clean. When I remembered I didn't have anything to wear, I entered his massive walk-in closet searching something I could put on. Surprisingly, there was a part of this closet that was contained of women clothes. They didn't look new, but did not look worn out either. And of course, high fashion brands. Maybe it belonged to his ex-girlfriend? Well, I had no idea, but I thought this would do. They were on my size after all.
There wasn't much to do here. I was a little contemplating to get out of this room after hours of laying on the couch all day. Would there be guards standing outside the freaking door? Why could be Edward so relaxed leaving me alone anyway? There had to be a lot of guards here.
Well, I gave it a try, though.
I opened the door and held my breath. And… nothing. I was surprised there was no one guarding the door. Closing it behind me, I walked through the hallway and then downstairs, to another sumptuous room. This was an open concept sitting room, adjacent to kitchen set at the corner. It wasn't the formal kitchen I could tell. Because it was too minimalist compared to the luxury this house brought.
Paul stood behind the stove and didn't seem surprised to see me.
"Lunch?" he slid a plate of quesadillas as I sat on the stool.
"You cooked?" I was kinda curious. Because this guy didn't talk much.
He just shrugged.
Right. Of course.
I wanted to ask so many questions to him. About why Edward brought me here, or until when I became his prisoner. And…had they found Jacob?
I wanted to ask all, but I didn't. Because somehow I knew there was no way in hell he would answer.
When I was in the middle of eating, all of a sudden a woman barged into the room. She was tall, tan, and beautiful. All supermodel-like. She was wearing crotched halter top and tight high-waisted shorts. Hair was wavy and ombre dark green. Eyes were blues and curious as they met mine. I knew she could see that in my eyes too.
But she went straight to Paul, hugging his neck even though the man looked reluctant. "Hello, bad boy." She greeted as she pulled away, grinning when Paul rolled his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he practically grumbled.
"Just want to tell you I'll host a party tonight."
"Can't." He refused easily, busying himself with the freaking dishwasher. But the woman was still grinning, though.
"Oh, mean." Paul chose to ignore her comment and she didn't seem to mind, though. Then her head abruptly turned to me, eyes assessing blatantly. "Who are you by the way? Edward's newest hoe?" She asked rudely.
"Are you serious?"
The woman was unbelievable.
Her lips twitched a little. "Well, hi, I'm Hailey."
;)