His voice startled me, breaking the silence I enjoyed while pretending I was on some balmy island, drinking margaritas.
“I’ll drive you home,” Julian announced, stepping into the living room where I sat and ignored him for two hours. I deserved an award for that. The temptation to look at him, his body, his hair, or simply hear him, it was all so extreme. Freedom will be my reward.
Without a second glance, I walked toward him. His demeanor was terrifyingly different than his banter on the phone last night. There was no longer the fake feeling of security in his possession, no longer a peculiar hint of comfort while with him. I managed to destroy the farce, revealing the bastard I imagined Julian Molloy to be. I didn’t know when the sleet stopped, but I couldn’t imagine after two days of blizzard, and more forecast until Tuesday, that the plows would have made a dent. I don’t care. I just hope my death in this impending car accident is swifter than Julian’s.
“Your phone.” He handed the object to me as I attempted to fit between Julian and the doorway. Thank God he’s wearing clothes. I refused to accept the excessive reminder of his unwarranted authority. I went into the foyer, slipping on my shoes, and reached for the front door, tasting my freedom. Julian mumbled something under his minty breath, grabbing the knob before I could and opening the door.
“By all means, Miss Leary, ladies first.”
I kept my head down, but my eyes glared and rolled around so tightly in their sockets. Here we go again, hating this bastard because he is a shit. I followed Julian down the long hallway to the elevator, stepping far from his side while we waited for its arrival.
“Keep this up in private all you want, although I wish you’d stop, but end it the moment we see anyone,” he demanded in a low growl. “Understood?”
I rolled my eyes up to flinch at his incensed expression. The corner of my mouth lifted into an exaggerated, sneering smile. The doors opened, and he motioned for me to enter first. Right. Because I’m his lady. Barf. I hated sharing the small space with him, feeling like the walls were closing in on us and forcing our proximity to increase. It was getting really…hot. My heart pounded as we rode down to the lobby. Julian swung his keychain between his thumb and palm. Swing. Click. Hold. Swing. Click. Hold.
“Mr. Molloy!” I looked up to see a woman ogling Julian once the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. Julian reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers. My eyes widened, alarmed at his gesture and warmth. His skin was soft, the subtle tickle of his thumb against my hand seemed genuine, almost familiar, like a song whose lyric you might recall but the memory of its melody betrays you. Go home, Aideen. You’re sleep deprived.
“Good morning, Miss Abbott,” he replied sweetly. “Lovely to see you.”
“You…” Her bright red smile only widened with challenge when she noticed our hands, realizing we were more than just companions on the elevator. “…too. Say, are you available soon for another drink?” I watched her right eyebrow, manicured beyond perfection, lift suggestively.
“No.” He laughed, managing to be demeaning and polite at the same time. “My girlfriend and I have become quite the hermits. Haven’t we, darling?” Fine. I’ll play. Stupid bastard.
“Can’t get out of bed.” I beamed, leaning against Julian. “Ever.”
That Abbott broad was as flustered as could be, her eyes flickering between Julian and me. My hand throbbed with his tightening hold.
“Oh. Um. Well…”
“Have a lovely Sunday.” I smiled at her as she spun in a circle, knocking into Julian while trying to enter the elevator. I restrained my laughter, returning to the emotionless being I was in Julian’s company that morning.
“Dammit, Aideen. As amazing as that sounds, you can’t say that to people.” Shrugging in defiance, I pulled my hand from Julian’s and crossed my arms.
“You’re really not speaking to me,” he realized, shaking his head. “I can find ways to make you talk.” I shrugged again, looking away, already aware of his potential to torture. I’ll be his seventh. Julian approached me, his palms holding my weak biceps.
“I have ways,” he assured me, “things you’ll hate…methods you’ll enjoy…I have ways.” I slowly nodded, a sarcastic acceptance, and rolled my eyes toward the exterior doors of the lobby. It was blindingly bright outside. I couldn’t see where the snow and street separated. Julian guided me toward the doors with his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, the same way by which we entered. Oh, so in love. I’m going to make him my first before I can be his seventh.
A large black Range Rover idled along the sidewalk as we stepped into the storm. We were promptly approached by the doorman, who eagerly handed Julian an envelope. He smiled submissively at the man who held me, aware of Julian’s powerful reputation.
“Get in, babby.” Julian nodded, releasing his hold and opening the passenger door. I looked up at his face, haunted by the exhaustion decorating his deep eyes. His head lowered, lips pressed against my ear, shivering my body more than the snow.
“There are press to the right and across the street. Let me kiss you and then climb in.” I quickly shook my head, not wanting his lips any closer to my body. Even the air between our bodies burned. I didn’t want to know what it would feel like if he truly touched me. I looked over his shoulder, noticing three men with large cameras and separate flashes, observing us. I hate myself. With my eyes tightly closed, I lifted to my tiptoes, threw my arms around Julian’s neck, and nuzzled my head into his chest. He smells so unbelievable, I might die right here.
“That’s better,” he murmured into my ear. His hands pressed into my hips, paralyzing everything below my waist. I rested against him, pretending for a moment he wasn’t a man who held me prisoner. Why aren’t I running? Why do I care about keeping his reputation sacred? Because he can keep me safe from Malcolm. Because Julian knows something I don’t. While keeping me safe from one demon, the devil became my ally, but I won’t ever be safe.
“Aren’t you going to let go so I can drive you home, darling?” Julian hummed into my hair, tickling its deep sound throughout my mind with echoing waves of his cologne. I pulled away, looking once more at the press and silently screaming for them to save me, but then the thought vanished. While I nestled into the black leather seat, protected from the blustering wind and photographers, I realized I couldn’t scream for help. No matter what, or whom, or where, nobody would hear me. I kept my eyes focused on the windshield as Julian climbed into the car, rubbing his hands together before they molded perfectly around the wheel and gearshift. The SUV lurched to a start, growling over piles of unplowed snow. The heated seats and silence within the car were deceptively calming.
“Don’t go to work today,” his voice broke the silence, “please. I don’t beg. I’m telling you. It’s important to me that you don’t go to work today.”
Everything was plastered in a heavy blanket of white. I doubted schools would be open. The streets were abandoned but for plows and some people shoveling outside of their buildings. He hadn’t blindfolded me. He trusts me.
Julian gave up probing for a response. I planned my reward for silence during the entire ride to my apartment. I was going to open a bottle of wine, take the bath I desperately desired, and get so drunk that I could actually laugh about what happened. I’m not a big drinker, but I knew the moment I left Julian’s domain, his care, the unknown and vulnerability would settle in, and I was going to need some heavy medication to cope. Realizing the ride was, even in unplowed streets, significantly shorter than the twisty route by which I arrived at Julian’s, I studied street signs. I was ten blocks from my apartment the entire time. Ten blocks. I looked at him, my mouth beginning to gape with annoyance and rage. Don’t say something. Don’t break your promise to yourself.
“Welcome back, neighbor.” Julian’s head turned toward me as he pulled against the curb outside of my building. “I’ll help you in.” I defiantly shook my head and tumbled from the car before he could make it around to my side.
Julian called after me, but I already flew into the building. I was fueled by adrenaline and anger. I couldn’t feel my lungs move, and I didn’t care to check that I was actually breathing. Shit. I don’t have my key. It’s at work. I continued to climb the stairs, knowing I would at least be alive around my neighbors instead of returning to Julian outside. He was half-naked just hours ago, the image of his sweatpants burned into my memory. Make it stop! I whimpered as I reached the top of my stairs and clutched my pounding chest.
“Miss Leary?” Yes! It’s me! I’m alive, and you see that I’m alive! My new neighbor, the adorable brunet stoner with the kind heart, opened his apartment door at the sound of my hurried, frantic steps.
“Mr. Greene,” I sighed with relief. “I was caught in the blizzard coming home.”
He eyed me with alarm. “You’re only wearing a sweater. You must be freezing!”
“I don’t have my key.”
“Ah.” He grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small blade. “This thing always comes in handy.”
“You carry a knife with you?” I laughed, but more so at the fact it would have normally frightened me and now, after what I felt at Julian’s, it seemed to be such a pathetic weapon. He nodded, eagerly stepping toward my apartment door. I followed, anxiously looking over my shoulder to an empty hall. Thank you.
“Always.” He smiled while poking, wiggling, and jabbing my locks with the blade. “This’ll work. I promise. Just…one…more…” Click. I owed him my life. I threw my arms around him, holding myself tightly against a man who smelled like a marijuana dispensary. Never before had drugs smelled so good. I would have inhaled the smell right from the fibers of his clothing if I knew it would erase the smell of Julian swirling around my brain.
“Hey,” he cooed, laughing at me. “It’s all good, Miss. Leary. I learned how to pick locks in high school. You’re good. I’m heading to a friend’s for a while, so I won’t be home to pick it again for you.”
“I’ll get my key tonight.” I smiled, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry. I’m just really glad to be home.”
“Rough night?” His brown eyes were soft and questioning, as well as a little red from smoking too much, but they were endearing. I shrugged with a pathetic smile. He has no idea. With his beaming farewell, I entered my apartment, quick to bolt every lock on the inside. I wanted to fall against the door in that moment, but I held it all in, tightly adhering every emotion to the walls within my soul. Wine and bath first.
Everything on the inside of my little, pathetic world was the same. Dishes were still desperate to be washed, the pile of laundry was where I left it, and my bed looked just as lonely as I remembered. I went into the kitchen, searching through my messy drawer for a corkscrew, and reached for a bottle of Riesling above my fridge. The kitchen was so cold, thanks to the window that wouldn’t close, I didn’t need to chill my wine separately. This is going to help so very much. I wanted to cry, holding the bottle to me like an infant, but I had one more thing to do first. Soak in a tub and drown my sorrows with this lovely new bestie, Mr. Riesling.
Forcing myself to swallow the impending nervous breakdown, I wiggled free from my clothes and marched into the bathroom. It was cold, both in temperature and emotion. I let the water heat with steam until the room was a thick fog. I didn’t want to see myself. I didn’t want to see anything. I tested the water with my toe, remembering I needed to paint those things, and the heat almost burned off a layer of skin. Perfect.
Stepping into the tub, prepared to focus on anything but the last twenty-four hours, I lost it. My tears melded with the bath, rippling into puddles, and the water burned my skin as I settled in. Malcolm. Kidnapped. Prisoner. Stockholm. Coffee. More tears. I heaved, unable to control my own body as it coped with the battle between my exhausted brain and weary soul.
The wine bottle was almost empty when I dropped it against the flimsy bathmat next to my tub. The bath water cooled, but my body was on fire. I was red, raw, and burning. I tumbled from the tub on weak legs and reached for the robe dangling behind my bathroom door. It was too short for the chill I expected to receive when I finally decided to leave the bathroom, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing. I felt horrible. The epic cry I shared with my bath and Mr. Riesling only left me feeling more drained.
I wrapped a towel around my damp hair and stepped out of the bathroom, welcoming the freezing gust of wind that greeted me. I bent over to finish drying my hair with the thin blue towel when I noticed something sticking under my door. What the hell, Molloy? I wanted to ignore it, but I was drunk and foolishly curious. I glared at the white envelope, even so far as sticking out my tongue and rolling my eyes, but after ten minutes of pretending to avoid it, I couldn’t. I was furious he came back into my building. His nerve and arrogance were enough to induce vomiting. Sure, he was charming, and absolutely stunning, but that was a weapon I had to see through. I will not let him win this.
I knelt to grab the envelope, sneering at ‘Babby’ written on the cover in a fine script. I tugged on it, anticipating it to slide right through the gap between the floor and my apartment door. It resisted, and I landed with a heavy thump against my floor. I guess now is as good of a time as any to have my bare bum on the floor. Priceless.
The envelope didn’t move so, when I finally pulled my tipsy self from the floor, I unlocked the bolts and peered outside. Glancing left to right in the alcove near my door, I knew I was alone. Sort of. Attached to the card by an emerald green, silk ribbon was a small rectangular box. Still on my knees, I swatted the box so it flew across my floor, and I returned inside, bolting my locks.
“Babby,” I mocked, sneering as I laughed to myself. Stupid assholes. I’m going to take them all down. All of them. Maybe not Liam. He was nice. No, him too. Ugh, and their sister. I slapped myself for still thinking of those people. I bent over, surely exposing myself to anyone hiding in my closet. Ha—probably Julian and his gag. I lifted the box and the card, carrying them to my bed, and plopped down while my head tickled with bubbles of intoxication. I fumbled at first in my pathetic attempt to open the card and then to focus on Julian’s penmanship.
A,
That was hardly a goodbye. I look forward to a more proper farewell next time. Open the box.
Sincerely,
J
I never gave him permission to call me “A,” and I did not want to call him “J.” We weren’t friends. It must be another pathetic attempt to keep his reputation safe. Whatever. I opened the package, again doing what that nutcase demanded of me like the fool I became whenever Julian was involved. Of course. Inside the box hid the world’s most evil smartphone because I ignored his forceful directive to take it from him earlier. I should have thrown it away, but I was curious so I turned on the phone, shaking my head at the message that appeared almost immediately.
Julian: Use this.
Deciding not to take his piece of advice to heart, I placed the phone on the floor near my bed and tumbled off into my kitchen for something to eat. The last thing I wanted was anything Italian, or Irish, or healthy. It felt good to spend the evening with Mr. Riesling. He didn’t tie me up or force me to watch fairytales. Most importantly, he wasn’t easy on the eyes so I could maintain focus. And there I go again. I ran through the script of the last day, mocking whatever threats and dialogue I remembered, laughing in the emptiness of my small apartment.
I stood with my head in the freezer for five minutes, staring at the empty ice tray and tubs of ice cream, when there was a knock at my door. It was like Morse code—tap, tap, rattle, rattle, tap, tap tap…it wasn’t a normal knock. It wasn’t someone requesting an invitation inside. I froze, stiffening in the cold space before my freezer door, and I listened. Tap, tap, rattle, rattle, tap, tap, tap. It grew more aggressive, the door violently shaking with each rattle. Pound, pound, rattle, rattle, rattle.
“Little girl, little girl, let me in,” a deep voice called from outside the door. My buzz and every ounce of confidence I had from mocking Julian’s family disappeared while my heart flew into my throat.
“Little girl, little girl, let me in so I can kill you,” the voice sang while pounding on my door.
I could barely think, let alone remind myself to breathe. I soaked in a tub for almost two hours. I stood in a flimsy bathrobe with nothing underneath. I had too many stalkers to count. I lost my best friend. I finished an entire bottle of wine on my own. This is not good. I fell to the ground, hiding beneath the kitchen window while I tried to force a thought through my mind.
“Little girl, little girl, don’t be such a bitch!” the voice hissed, attacking my door. I heard a loud metallic clink, one of the chains falling onto the floor. Oh, fuck. This is not Julian’s house. This isn’t a drill. Someone is going to…I wanted to pass out. Julian? I looked across the floor at the cell phone, my only chance at survival. My blood mixed with adrenaline, the only fuel I had to crawl across my apartment floor toward the phone. My hands never trembled so much, not even when Julian surprised me in the backroom at work or when Julian tied me to his kitchen chair or when Juli—stop thinking and call him! His was the only contact, a one-step path directly to his deep, intoxicating voice. It rang three times and the call was dropped. I called once more, beginning to crawl under my bed while the ringing continued in my ear and my door threatened to topple into my apartment.
“Aideen?” His voice was intimidating but apprehensive. He probably wondered what the hell I was doing trying to reach him after spending the entire car ride mute.
“I…”
“What is it?” Julian demanded, his tone low and infuriated. “Babby, what’s going on?” I hated that nickname. Hated it. But all I could think of in that moment was how much safer I felt simply having him on the phone with me, even if he was calling me that stupid name.
“There’s some…there’s someone…”
“I’m coming.” I dropped the phone just as Julian clicked off the receiver, my hand rigid while I listened to the door violently rattle back and forth. I wasn’t a coward; I was just too drunk to move, paralyzed with fear and wine. Get up, Aideen! I had to protect myself. I looked at the phone screen, wondering if the phone call with Julian even happened, my mind drifting into intoxicated hallucinations. The door continued to rattle, so I knew at least that was real.
I didn’t have a weapon, just some pathetically dull kitchen knives. Another chain sputtered from the wall as the door rattled back and forth. His acid voice continued to spew through the crack of the doorframe while I ran across the room to my kitchen, frantically sifting through drawers in search of a knife. In the pile of dirty dishes along my counter rested the perfect knife. It was pink. I’m going to kill this guy with a pink knife.
I remained in the kitchen, holding the knife against my trembling body, the blade grazing my chin. Julian, Julian, Julian, please, please, please. I hated having no other option. I could have called the police, but I had recently been warned that doing such a petty thing would surely end me. If Julian doesn’t end me first. Or this psycho! My hazy eyes glanced at the clock above my stove. Five minutes passed since I called Julian, but it felt like an hour. I’m going to die. This is it. This isn’t Julian and his gag. This is death.