Chapter 16

Rosella....

My eyes flutter open when I feel something poking my sore abdomen. I hiss through my teeth before tensing up my inactive muscles.

What the hell…!

Fluorescent lights pour down on me and break through the haziness of my mind. I hear sounds of whispering and shuffling footsteps but nothing registers inside my foggy head. Blinking, I lift my head and squint around myself with narrowed eyes to see properly.

The first thing I catch with my heavy eyes is a pair of legs, clad in blood red suit pants. Something about the colour of those pants makes me frown.

That colour… why does it seem so familiar?

I sit up straighter and try to shift or move my limbs but they don't give. I tug my hands again and realise that they are bound behind my back, my feet as well.

My frown deepens when I follow the red coloured pants upto a white dress shirt then to a familiar face with unshaved jaw, chubby cheeks and black eyes shaded with thick black frowning eyebrows.

The black and hollow eyes peer down at me with an emptiness, like someone has sucked the life out of them.

I know that face, I know those blank eyes. It belongs to Balthazar de Lucas, the merciless Mafia who has snatched my life away from me in the name of a fake debt.

A tidal wave of raging emotions surges through me, waking me up completely from my deep slumber.

“What are you going to do with me?” I don't bother to ask him where I am and why my limbs are tied down, I know he's not going to answer. Why waste my energy in asking him such basic questions that always go unanswered.

But I'm taken aback when suddenly Balthazar drops down to my eye level and flashes me his yellowish crooked teeth. For the first time, I notice a slight glint of curiosity in his bleak eyes as he stares at me with that stupid grin on his face.

“You're not going to ask me the basic questions or show me any of the emotions which are whirling inside your chest, are you?” His black eyes search my face then come to hold my glare. “You know, I can't even tell if you can feel any emotions at all. Has anyone ever told you that, most of the time, you think like a man? So closed off and calculated. Your face holds onto only one type of expression, solemn or closed off. You're always searching for reason in every situation and I have noticed that you act accordingly. That's just as much strange as it is fascinating.”

My glare turns suspicious as I try to understand where he's going with this. No one has ever said things like that to me. This sudden change of subject has totally caught me off guard and I don't know how to deal with it so I go with the easiest response. I take his comments as offensive and remark coolly. “What are you implying exactly?”

“I'm not implying anything. I'm just telling you what I've observed in these past few days. I've never met someone like you, who has such an alluring body, enticing mind, bewitching beauty but an icy cold heart, devoid of any emotion.”

“That's very poetic of you.” I roll my eyes but in all honesty, I'm scared shitless.

Even though he hasn't hit the bull's eye, he has come too close to the truth. I need to change the topic before he can dig any deeper than that.

But before I can open my mouth, Balthazar crawls closer to me and grabs my feet. I try to pull away, only to have him tighten his hold on my ankle and instead of doing something to hurt me, as I had expected, he simply works on the ropes. I close my mouth and let him free me from my restraints.

I don't know why he has decided to free me. Is it because he knows I won't run away? Since I have entered his world, I have tried to escape or even plan to escape from him. And I don't know why I didn't do that either. I spend too much of my time overthinking and going through the consequences of my actions to actually sit down for a minute and formulate a plan.

Balthazar pulls me out of my head by tapping on my arm and signalling for me to turn around. I do and he frees me from the ropes. Silently, he helps me up to my feet then signals for me to wait. And like the idiot I am, I wait.

What else am I supposed to do? Attack him from behind and run away?

I eye him carefully, from head to toe and when he turns around I see a gun tucked in the waistband of his pants. My throat closes up. I don't think it would be a good idea to fight someone who's armed and well-trained. I've got no skills and if I'm being honest then I know that I'm a klutz by birth. And anyways my fight or flight instincts haven't kicked in yet, so I can do nothing but just lean back against the wall and take deep breaths.

I watch in seething silence as Balthazar opens the door of the small room he has tucked me inside and disappears before locking it behind him.

I use that opportunity to take a moment and look around myself. Maybe I can scout out a make-do weapon and knock him out as soon as he'll enter the room. But what if he returns with one or two of his men?

Shit! You're overthinking this… Again!

I set my haphazard thoughts aside and focus on the confined space around me. Just like my old makeshift home-prison, this room has four walls but two doors, no windows, a queen sized bed and a dressing table. I don't know where the other door leads to and I don't have any desire to find out.

The last time I had taken the risk with the red door, it had thrown me right into the arms of another mafia, only, he was a freaking monster. But I'm glad that Balthazar has got rid of him. The way I had shied away from his bold blue stare and responded to his soul deep laughter… God! I don't want like that again… so… so out of control of my body and mind.

It had scared the crap out of me!

After a minute or so, Balthazar returns. But this time he's not alone. An elegant woman dressed in a formal red suit follows him inside the room. The woman seems to be in her late thirties but her shining blue eyes and perfectly made blonde hair betray her age. Only the soft happy wrinkles around her almond shaped eyes give away her actual age.

Balthazar whispers something near her ear and she nods happily then turns in my directions, her blood red stained lips spreading wide in a welcoming grin. Whereas me, I turn wary but the woman doesn't notice my uneasiness and walks up to me. She pulls me in her embrace, totally catching me off guard and making me freeze in her arms.

“C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, chérie!” (“It is a pleasure to meet you, darling!”) The overly friendly woman mumbles something near my neck, excitedly. My eyes fly up to meet with Balthazar's scrutinizing gaze. He's reading my reaction. Shit! I immediately loosen up and hug the woman back. But I don't smile.

If Balthazar is testing his theory then I have to do the exact opposite of what he expects me to do, in accordance to his observation of my reactions. I can't seem overjoyed, neither can I stand like a statue. I don't want him to know my real thoughts or emotions, ever.

After a moment, the woman pulls away from me and grasps my shoulders to hold me at arms length. Her eyes look me up and down and an appropriative gleam enters her shining eyes. She starts muttering under her breath, as though she's talking and giving notes to her own self. Then just as abruptly as she had hugged me, she turns away and excuses herself before scurrying out of the room with that broad smile still plastered on her face.

Woah… what was that all about? And who is that woman? Why has Balthazar brought her to see me? Does he like to show off his victims to others?

Balthazar chooses that moment to step towards me when I am absorbed in my muses and gives me a quizzical look. “Miss. Danforth, are you feeling alright?”

My mind freezes then an idea pops up inside my head. I know just how to push his buttons.

“I'm fine… but why are you concerned about my well-being when you're going to hurt me, maybe not now but soon probably.” My voice is cold and my words are like icicles.

Balthazar flinches dramatically then chuckles.

“Oh Miss. Danforth, you and your big mouth. You're so unpredictable and full of surprises. I think I'm going to miss you.”

My breathing ceases.

Miss me? Why? Has he decided to get rid of me after all?

Just like that, the bubbly idea suddenly bursts.

“What's wrong, Miss. Danforth? You've turned pale.”

I quickly recover my shaken expression but I can't help my pale skin. “Nothing. Have you decided to kill me after all?”

“Kill you??” He snorts indignantly. “You're still scared of death, aren't you?”

He doesn't wait for my response.

“I can't believe that death can rattle an enigma like you. Huh, anyway. The answer to your question is no, I'm not going to kill you but yes, I am going to do something with you which will get me a hell lot of money.”

His grin reappears and before I can ask him to explain, the woman returns with a number of plastic bags in her hands. Balthazar introduces her to me and I come to know her name is Chelsea and she's one of the best fashion designers in Europe. He also tells me that she's going to assist me in picking out the perfect outfit for tonight.

That's where my lungs stop working for the second time.

He doesn't tell me why I have to get dressed and why he's being like this to me, so patient and… Nice, is the word I guess. He just turns on his heels and disappears out of the door, leaving me behind to stare in stunned silence at the spot where he was standing just a moment ago.

My mind goes blank for a second… then a thousand questions flare up inside my head, sending it into overdrive. I feel the first few waves of anxiety crash into me when Chelsea starts opening the bags and pulls free a variety of expensive clothes, which are so different from what I am used to wearing.

My jaw drops down to the floor when I see her pull out a bikini piece. Oh hell no! I'm not wearing any of that. But before I can make any protests, Chelsea drags me to the other door and opens it before pushing me inside.

My eyes widen and I start feeling more anxious when I find out the door leads to a small bathroom. Chelsea makes some impatient noise behind me then steps inside and starts pulling up my tattered t-shirt.

“Hey!” I back out of her reach while clutching my clothes like they are my lifeline.

“Tu dois prendre une douche. Bande!” (“You need to take a shower. Strip!”)

She points a finger at me then at the small glass shower stall. Realisation dawns at me and I relax. So she wanted to undress me so that I could take a shower. I stiffen again. Why does she want me to take a shower? Does she want to dress me up in those bits and scraps from a cloth?

I shake my head but she keeps pointing at the shower and mumbling something in French. When I don't start undressing, she huffs and searches my face. I watch her expressions as something visibly clicks inside her head, she gives me an embarrassed smile before backing out of the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Has she been planning to lock me in here from the starting or has the idea just struck her? The latter one makes more sense because she wouldn't have wasted her time in pestering me like that if she had brought me in here with a plan in her head to lock me inside.

Can there be any other explanation for why she might have left me here all alone?

I frown, that doesn't make sense. I look around myself, not sure what would be the right thing for me to do. The glass walls of the shower stall make it easier for me to notice the big shower head.

And suddenly I understand why Chelsea has left me alone after giving me that smile. She thought I needed privacy.

Shit!

Does that mean I have to do as she says now? Should I take a shower? It's really very tempting and I'm so ready to get out of my soiled and stinking clothes. How Chelsea had hugged me and not gagged, I will never know.

I stare at the shower stall longingly.

Is there anyway I can take a shower and still hold onto my dignity? Probably not.

Or maybe there is…

I quickly search around the bathroom for something solid. After rummaging through the small cabinet beneath the sink, I find a first-aid kit and inside it, there's a pair of clinical scissors.

This will have to do.

———————

After having one of the best showers of my life, I throw back on my tattered t-shirt and sweatpants. Wringing my wet hair and trying to dry it with the spare towel as best as I can, I move closer to the door and press my ear against it.

A light humming voice carries in through the door.

Guilt for what I'm about to do, twists my gut painfully.

I'm going to hurt an innocent to gain my freedom. What does that make me then? Selfish? A coward? A criminal?

No! Stop it. You're not going to hurt her, just threaten her to shut her up then flee. Yeah, don't overthink it. Just do it.

Taking one last breath and steeling my resolve, I drop the towel and grab the knob… all the while willing my trembling hands to stop showing such kind of weakness. But I don't let my nerves get the better of me and tighten my fingers on the glinting scissors which I have sanitized, in case I need to nick her lightly to scare her off.

I tell myself, just a small scratch on her arm or somewhere safe, nothing more than that. And if it'll not work then I'll just push her on the bed and run away before she can catch up.

I twist the knob then crack the door open as quietly as I can, peering through the small gap before deciding to move. Chelsea is humming to herself and all of her focus is on the scarps she has spread out on top of the bed.

I pull the door open, very slowly, just enough for me to slip out and sneak up to stand behind her. But instead going with my plan and grabbing her from behind, I hesitate.

What the hell I am going to do…!

Was I seriously going to threaten an innocent to save myself? When did I stoop that low??

And just as I am about to back out of my plan, Chelsea turns around with a gleeful smile… which is immediately smacked off her face when she finds me hovering behind her with a scissor in my hand, ready to stab her right on the chest.

Fucking Shit!

Fear flashes in her eyes but she doesn't scream. Her eyes are glued to the glinting weapon clenched tightly in my hand. I immediately hide it behind my back and her scared blue eyes meet my guilty eyes. Something like betrayal crosses her face as she starts to back away from me.

No, no, no, no, no, no… this is not how my plan was supposed to go. It's all going to hell.

In my desperation to explain myself, I splay my hands up in surrender and open my mouth to say something but then stop. She won't be able to understand me, she doesn't know my language.

Dammit!

I try to approach her another way. Softening my expressions, I reach out my empty hand to touch her shoulder to reassure her while mumbling in vain that I'm not going to hurt her.

She backs away from my touch, of course.

What kind of fucking idiot I am? Why would she ever let me get closer to her when I'm holding up the scissors in one hand and reaching out to grab her with the other?

She must be getting the wrong impression like I'm going to grab and then stab her.

I should drop the scissors.

Yes, that can help.

But just as I am about to let it slip through my fingers, the front door swings open and Balthazar enters the room, only to stop short in his tracks when his eyes fall on the scene in front of him.

What a great timing Balthazar has!

And instead of dropping the scissors, my fingers tighten around it on instinct.

“Stop Miss. Danforth. Whatever you think you're going to do, just stop. Hurting Chelsea will not get your freedom back to you.” His eyes flicker between me and Chelsea, his expressions tight but his eyes assessing, weighing the situation.

I frown.

Why does he think that I'm going to hurt her?

Then I realise that I'm still in the same position I was in before. Horrified, I drop the scissors and step back. My breathing is escalating and heart pounding now that I'm caught.

Chelsea grabs on opportunity and scurries away to hide behind Balthazar… From ME!

I've scared her. I've shown her what I truly am. Just a fucking desperate backstabbing bitch. She had trusted me and she had been so nice to me, so considerate about my feelings. And what did I do? I threatened her with a wicked weapon.

“Miss. Danforth…” Balthazar takes a cautious step towards me.

I keep backing away till there's nowhere to go and I've reached the dead end. I bump against the wall and press my back tighter against it, hoping I could disappear inside the wall.

“I didn't want to hurt. I just wanted to scare her so that I could escape while she was distracted. Please tell her that I didn't mean her any harm. I swear, I don't want to hurt anyone.” My voice cracks and I have to suck in ragged breath to prevent myself from falling apart.

“Let me make this very clear to you, Miss. Danforth. You'll not make it out even a single step before my men will catch you. You think I don't know about your potential? You might not be aware but I am. I know just what you are capable of. But understand that you can never beat me, I've seen every trick in the book.” Balthazar takes a few more steps then pauses, his angry and cold eyes on me. “Now, if you want Chelsea to forgive you then get ready within an hour. I'll come back to escort you. And just for being sure, remember that if you'll try something again then you'll never be able to forgive yourself for what I'll make you do.”

His words plant a seed of fear deep inside my head and on impulse, I nod frantically.

With one last angry glance in my direction, Balthazar leads scared and sobbing Chelsea out of the room and locks the door behind him.

I don't think I've ever felt so low in my life.

I am becoming one of them, I'm becoming like Balthazar.