~SARA~
Focusing my gaze on the exit, I swiftly dart towards it. The pounding of my heart echoes in my ears as I race forward, feeling aches in my chest akin to completing a gruelling marathon. He was meant to meet me, so why did I find him with her? Pushing the door open, I gasp for air and cling to the window ledge outside. The world blurs around me, the pebbles below shifting in and out of focus. Anger courses through me as my hands tremble in disbelief. How could he do this to me?
Closing my eyes tightly, I take deep breaths. My heart feels like it’s been torn from my chest, each breath hitching as I witness this heartbreaking scene unfold before me. Inside the bustling club, filled with lively music and dancing patrons, time seems to slow down for me. My boyfriend passionately kissed a slender blonde woman right in front of me, oblivious to my presence. Darkness creeps in as tears well up in my eyes. He deceived me, using me for my money. How could I have been so blind.
Stepping back, I could feel my body temperature rising with anxiety. Frantically searching for an exit, I knew I needed fresh air to calm the nerves and anger that were bubbling inside me.
“Miss, is everything alright?” A dark yet husky voice caught my attention. It must have been the security guard. Tilting my head up, I rubbed my eyes, smudging mascara across my fingers and under my eyes, making it difficult to make out who it was amidst the blurred figures around me.
“I’m taking you home; you’re drunk,” he spoke again before reaching for my bag, presumably to check my ID. I hoped that was his intention. Unable to speak, I had to trust him to do what he could; even though the thought crossed my mind that I could be in danger, I couldn’t muster the energy to react.
The next morning, as the sun’s rays beamed across my face and I slowly opened my eyelids, memories of the previous night flooded back. However, the sensation beneath my hands on the bed sheets felt unfamiliar – not like the cotton bedding I owned. As I adjusted my eyes to the surroundings, it dawned on me that I wasn’t in my own bed.
Did the man from last night not manage to find out where i.lived?
As I sat up, my chest pounded with fear washing over me. Glancing around the room, it was evident that this was not a typical guest room. The floor-to-ceiling windows spanned the entire length of the room, adorned with dark oak blinds that cascaded halfway down the glass. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the dark grey laminate flooring.
Shifting my body to the side, I felt my feet rest comfortably on a black rug positioned at the centre of the room. A king-sized bed stood against one wall, perfectly aligned within the confines of the rug. Wooden beams adorned the walls at regular intervals, imparting a rustic charm to the space, while a large golden chandelier hung prominently in the centre.
It became increasingly clear that this was no ordinary guest room. As I climbed out of bed, I realised my phone was missing; it was nowhere to be found, not even inside my bag. Tentatively approaching the door, contemplating my escape route, a soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
Startled, I leaped back into bed, heart pounding in my chest. The stabbing sensation in my chest intensified as I desperately wished for it to cease.
As the door creaked open, my eyes fixated on a man standing before me. Was he the same individual from the previous night? His intense gaze seemed to pierce right through me, accentuated by his muscular arms adorned with tattoos that extended from his hands to his neck. The white dress shirt he wore appeared strained against his body, revealing tattoos on his chest prominently. With dark, sleek hair slicked back neatly, his sharp jawline added to his mysterious aura.
Who was this man, and why did he seem so familiar?
“Miss Knight?” His voice carried a dark tone with a hint of huskiness, suggesting he might have just smoked a cigarette. I remained silent, observing as he leaned casually against the bedroom doorway, showcasing his muscular physique as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“How’s your head?” he inquired once more. This time, I was at a loss for words; I hadn’t been intoxicated the night before. Confusion etched across my face as my jaw tensed. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I realised the extent of my dishevelled appearance – mascara streaked down my face, giving away signs of a rough night.
I am filled with numerous inquiries, unsure if I should voice them. He anticipated a response that I was unable to provide, my desire solely to return home. “Who are you?” I interrogated him. My voice faltered towards the end, a sore throat causing discomfort. “Beck Lorenz. Miss Knight, I used to be close friends with your father,” he promptly replied, hinting at his willingness to address my queries.
As I absorbed the name, my complexion paled, hands trembling as they clutched the bedsheets. The realisation hit me - why was I in the abode of the mafia? “Why have you brought me here?” Each word escaped amidst a dizzying whirl in my mind. Anxiety surged within me like it hadn’t since - no.
“Your father owed me money,” he stated bluntly as he entered the room, dragging a chair from the nearby desk by the window. “Listen, Miss Knight. Your father and you possess the means to repay me; however, I wish for him to endure before revealing your presence.” His words alone were enough to turn my stomach.
In his twisted game, I am but a mere pawn. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to force you to do anything. You have free reign of my house. However, should you dare to take a single step outside that door, your father will pay the price with your head. Do you understand?” His words dripped with malice, seeping into my mind like venom.
Though I nodded meekly, deep down, I harboured disbelief in every syllable that escaped the boss’s lips. “Tell me, how’s your head? When Charlie discovered you, he mentioned you were furious,” he inquired as I emerged from the bed.
“I don’t owe you any explanations. I don’t know you. I demand to go home,” I asserted firmly as I stormed out of the bedroom and into the hallway.
My heart raced frantically as I descended the stairs, my ears catching the sound of heavy breathing behind me, followed by the grating noise of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor.
The front room reverberated with venom as my gaze fixated on the bottom step, only to be forcefully pushed against the wall. Beck’s eyes bore into mine as his hand gripped my throat tightly, the chill of his silver jewellery sending shivers down my spine. Our noses almost touched, my breath caught in my throat. Confusion clouded my mind as I thought, “What the fuck?”
“I told you not to move an inch. Step outside and I’ll put a bullet through your pretty little head,” Beck’s voice was menacing, his dark eyes hinting at something sinister lurking within.
Before I could utter a word, the front door slammed shut, interrupting our tense confrontation. Beck turned abruptly to face a copper-haired woman standing there, her expression filled with disappointment towards him. A man stood behind her, arms crossed in disapproval.
“Leave her alone, Beck!” The woman’s voice rang out.
“Why is Ella here, Charlie?” Beck’s tone was laced with annoyance as he released his grip on my throat.
Raising my hand to my throat, I focused on the conversation, realising its importance for my survival. The blond man, presumably Charlie from the previous night, nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. The heavy footsteps reverberated through the stairway as Beck descended, swiftly grabbing Ella's arms and pulling her away. Confusion clouded my expression as I descended the stairs. If I were to stay here, I decided I would definitely raid their fridge.
Entering the kitchen, I spotted a brunette woman around 5’3 cutting fruit – likely the maid. It was thoughtful of them to have one, though she seemed older, perhaps around 60 years old. It struck me as inappropriate that this man had her working; she appeared slightly shaken as she offered me water for my headache.
“I don’t have a headache, despite everyone being fixated on me being drunk last night,” I reassured. “But an apple would be nice,” I added with a smile, observing her reach for the fruit bowl. “Miss Knight, right?” she confirmed, handing me the apple delicately.
I nodded and brought the apple to my lips before asking, “Is there any way out of here?” The crunch of the apple filled the brief silence that followed her disappointed shake of the head.
Realising it was too early to broach such a topic, I fell silent, gazing out of the window at the sunny backyard and listening to the birds chirping. It would have been a perfect day for shopping, but instead, I found myself trapped.
