Sienna
Fucking Nate.
I’m reeling with anger, and hurt, and fear.
He can’t keep me here forever, right?
I’m suddenly feeling very claustrophobic and in over my head. I had underestimated him, I think.
A part of me hates to believe that Nate is this hardened criminal, callous and unloving.
But he is.
He doesn’t care about me, or my feelings at all.
All he wants is money, or fame, or whatever he’s after in keeping me here.
The guy’s probably happy about the fact that he was the one to kidnap Sienna Rose, heiress and daughter to one of the most famous senators in the country.
Daddy.
My heart wrenches and aches to think of him.
My Daddy.
The man I’d loved most in my life, my safe harbor, my everything is gone all because of stupid fucking Nate.
How could he?
Fresh tears fill my eyes.
Will I ever escape these pools of grief that threaten to weigh me down forever?
I wipe the tears away. They won’t help. They’ll always come, always fall, when I think of what I’ve lost.
The room feels tight and small.
I’m confined in the airless space, and I simply must get out.
The doors of the terrace are slightly ajar, so I fling them open and go outside. The wind whips through my hair, and it’s utterly silent and peaceful up here.
There’s no sound.
Even the traffic below can’t penetrate this stillness I’ve found at the top of the skyscraper. It’s a fortress, yes, and the only way out is down. But I would never do that.
Even in these dire circumstances, I would never kill myself.
There’s always a way out. Things always get better. Right?
I hold onto the balcony wall and dare myself to look down. The view is dizzyingly beautiful.
For a second, I’m free.
No one can touch me up here.
The wind and the cold air bring me back to life.
I take a deep breath and go back in.
I’ve got this.
There has to be a way out, sometime, somewhere. I just have to be on the lookout for it.
I walk into my darkening room as the sun fades over the horizon.
Stepping out of my black dress, I think of the waste of an evening.
The terrace doors stay open, providing some much needed air.
I walk around the room naked and think of him...
Nate.
How did he turn into this illicit human being? Where is the Nate I once knew, the boy who was my friend?
He’s dead.
And in his place is this new being, this guy who sets my heart on fire even though I try to deny it.
I shut my eyes, and he’s there.
I distract myself, but he remains.
I’m afraid of what this could mean.
And so, I attempt to shove all thoughts of him to the side.
A black, silky robe has been provided for me, and I slip into it.
If Nate has my best interest at heart, then why can’t he just let me go? He’s keeping me here for his own selfish reasons, and I only wish I knew what they were.
Thinking about my mother and all the grief she must be feeling from losing my dad and losing me brings fresh tears to my eyes.
Will I ever stop crying?
He hasn’t even let me call her.
He’s a fucking monster.
And yet, even as I tell myself what a bad man he is, there’s this flicker of hope in my heart that the old Nate will shine through.
As much as I want to hate him, there’s a rush of hot energy coursing between us. And that energy scares me more than anything.
I feel deep things for Nate, and it confuses me. I mean, he was my first crush.
And now, he’s my captor.
I shut my eyes—and the minute I do, his handsome, chiseled face flashes across my mind.
Something tells me I may never escape him, not physically nor emotionally ever again.
He has this hold on me. And it’s something I just can’t explain.
I don’t know if I should trust it. I definitely don’t know if I can trust him.
I circle the room again, looking for any kind of weapon or way to get out of here.
Of course there’s none.
Nate is well versed in the ways of criminality. He wouldn’t leave me with something sharp if his life depended on it.
I curl up on my bed and let the tears flow easily. There’s no use in trying to stop them. I imagine I’ll be sad forever.
The torrent of emotion that overcomes me is enough to wear me out. I fall asleep.
I dream of better days, days when my dad was around.
I dream of being back home in LA, safe and happy.
And then I wake into the hazy darkness, and I’m reminded of my cold, hard reality.
I rub my eyes and look around.
It’s been a few hours, at least.
Dragging myself out of bed, I feel sharp pangs of hunger. Maybe there’s a way I could quickly grab something without Nate noticing.
I go to the mirror, tousle my hair, and see that there’s nothing to do about my puffy, tear-stained eyes.
I’m quiet as a mouse as I walk to the door and I peek around the edge.
No Nate. Maybe he’s sleeping?
Does Nate ever sleep?
At least he’s out of sight as I tiptoe down the broad hallway, lit by sconces.
It’s only now that I realize how fucking beautiful and over-the-top this penthouse is.
Huge, modern chandeliers adorn the ceiling. Expensive art line the walls. Oversized sunken leather couches provide seating.
It’s all dark, greys and blacks, browns and whites.
The place is gorgeous, but I’m no stranger to luxury. And none of it matters now. I’d rather be penniless and have my father back than to suffer this way.
The kitchen is pristine, beautiful. There’s an island that seems to stretch on forever.
I walk over to the giant glass refrigerator and get some fruit, meat, and cheese.
Why the hell not?
Grieving and being a prisoner has a way of making one famished.
I open a bottle of wine and sit on the island, having my own little picnic.
The wine sets my nerves at ease. I needed a drink for sure.
I finally feel some sustenance coming back into my body.
I drink straight out of the bottle, and for a second, I forget about my worries.
“Enjoying yourself?”
That voice.
I turn around and see Nate gazing at me.
How long has he been there?
My heart beats a little faster.
I’ve been found out.
By him.