Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Brushing a kiss over the shell of my ear, he takes his leave.
I shiver, watching the backs of my kidnappers as they file through the door. The kiss wasn’t a caress. It was a mocking demonstration of his power, reminding me how vulnerable I am, entirely at his mercy. He’s taunting me with the choice he gave me. It’s a game to him. He’s curious about how long it will take before I give in.
Alone, I breathe easier. I quickly finish my breakfast, eating every morsel on the plate. Then I hop from the chair and go through the drawers until I find a small, sharp knife. Making sure I won’t cut myself accidently, I cover the blade with a few paper towels before slipping it into the elastic of my leggings. I tilt my face to the ceiling, scanning for cameras. Nothing is visible. If Andrew didn’t bluff and they’re there, they’re well concealed. Whatever the case, Roman can’t expect me not to try.
I tidy the kitchen more out of habit than to win anyone’s approval. Part of the ingrained manners comes from a deep-seated dislike for how the Warrens treat their staff. They never pick up after themselves. It’s embarrassing that they let their sixty-year-old housekeeper polish their shoes and rinse their dirty underwear.
After clearing the counter and loading the dishwasher, I do a more thorough inspection of the house. The door to the basement is at the end of a short hallway next to the kitchen. About this, Andrew didn’t lie. Not only is the camera pointing at the door clearly visible, but there’s also a guard stationed in front of it. He acknowledges me with a nod. Not liking the way he slides his gaze over my body, I quickly go to the front of the house.
Roman left a man at the main entrance as well. He’s looking at his phone, ignoring me. The rest of the house is empty. There are no phones, anywhere. Going back upstairs, I check out the other rooms. Except for Roman’s bedroom and the one he keeps me in, there are three more. From the unmade beds and the men’s clothes scattered over the floor, two of them are occupied. It must be where Mateo and Andrew sleep. The last room is tidy and the bed undisturbed.
The minimalistic furnishings and modern decorations are very different to Bell’s house. His mansion is crammed full of antique furniture, plush Persian carpets, and massive oil paintings. The rooms always smell of the mothballs the housekeeper puts out to prevent silverfish from destroying the priceless tapestries and the velvet curtains. Roman’s house smells of him—an understated but undeniably male cologne.
The last door I try is directly opposite the unused bedroom. It gives access to a room with a sofa facing a flat screen television. A reclining chair stands next to a tall reading lamp in the corner. With wall-mounted bookshelves, it’s the most furnished space in the house. A freestanding fireplace takes up the center of the room. Wood is stacked in a basket on the floor. I put a couple of logs in the fireplace and use the kindling to light a fire. When the flames jump into the air with a crackle, I go to the bay window that overlooks the back of the garden.
From the vantage point of the height, I have visibility on the double gates and the two guards smoking and chatting in front of them. Automatic rifles are slung over their shoulders. It’s not an unfamiliar sight. Bell also employs guards to patrol the entrance of his property. Pansies grow in flowerbeds around enormous Jacaranda trees. I crane my neck to the right. The water of a pool shines topaz blue in the morning sun. Deck chairs and a sofa with black cushions are arranged on the veranda of a summer house.
I take a cushion from the sofa and place it on the windowsill. Carefully, I extract the knife I’d stolen from the kitchen and hide it under the cushion. Grabbing the cashmere throw from the back of the sofa, I make myself comfortable in the bay window and draw the blanket around me.
I can’t stop thinking about Eden. I wish I could call her to make sure she’s all right. Using the heels of my palms, I rub away the untimely tears. I can’t be weak. I must focus on getting out of here. Has Roman made his demands, yet? Has he told Bell he has his daughter? Bell must be laughing his ass off. I can’t help but feel a pang of pity for Roman. Bell has made a fool of him. Never underestimate Bell. He’s old and slow, his fat body in bad shape, but he’s always one step ahead of everyone.
Despite my anxiety, I eventually doze off in the heat from the fire. I must’ve been more strung out than I’d thought, because when I wake up, the room is dark and the fire is cold. I’ve slept the whole day. It’s not surprising, seeing that I didn’t sleep a wink, last night.