I smile down into my cup of tea, enjoying the fresh herbal scent. My belly is full of scone, and I'm listening passively as Daniel explains the ins and outs of some new philosophical theory that he's learning about for his class.
I don't really care about it, but it's nice to hear him think through something about which he's passionate. It's really a gorgeous day – the sun is shining in little pieces through the grape leaves that wrap around the pergola, and I lean my face back to enjoy the warmth on the soft skin on my cheeks.
Next to me, I hear Daniel laugh a little. "Are you even listening to me anymore?" he says.
"No," I reply, smiling. "But that's okay, it's good to hear you talk."
He laughs again, a soft thing, and then takes my hand.
“It’s nice, Fay,” he says, and I open my eyes to look at him, seeing him smile at me. “That you enjoy listening to me, even when you’re not hearing my words.”
I squeeze his hand and return his smile, considering him.
It's funny – I was so in love with him for the few months that we were dating. Or, at least, I thought I was. Maybe "obsessed" was a more appropriate term, but either way, I couldn't stop thinking about how handsome he was or how much I wanted to kiss him. Just to kiss him, small, chaste things. But I had wanted so badly for him to treat me gently, love me, be kind to me. To treat me like his treasure.
But now? After everything I've learned about his life – our life? It's all just... gone. All of those feelings have disappeared.
Instead, I view him now completely as my best friend, my ally in this crazy world. I want the absolute best for him and know that he feels the same about me, but the romance has been totally wiped away.
It's a bit sad, really – the end of a love. I wonder, passively, when the next time I'll have a crush again, feel that delicious buzzing of emotion in my stomach.
I push back against the first thought that comes to my mind, ignoring it. Ridiculous.
Luckily, Daniel helps to disrupt my thoughts.
"Are you all right, Fay?" he asks.
"Daniel," I say, running my thumb lightly over his fingers, thinking about what my father said to me earlier. "Are you happy here?"
He frowns at me, slightly curious. "What prompted this?"
I shrug a little. "Curiosity, mostly, I guess. You just seem... such a mismatch for this world, most of the time. I guess I wonder why you've never left. Never just... bailed on it."
He shrugs, a little uncomfortable. "It's my home, Fay. My family, my world. I guess I don't really have anywhere to go."
"But you've got all the resources in the world," I say, leaning forward. "Honestly, aren't you ever tempted to just steal, like, one of his cars, sell it on the black market for whatever you can get, and take the money and just run?"
His mouth falls open at the idea.
"Or," I continue quickly, "you offered me millions to keep my mouth shut the day we broke up – if you have access to that kind of cash, why not just take it for yourself? We could go! We could run away to the French Riviera, change our names, spend the rest of our days just drinking wine and writing books! About whatever we want!"
He laughs softly and gives my hand a squeeze before pulling his back to reach for his teacup.
"It's a beautiful dream, Fay," he says softly. "But it's impossible."
"I think we could do it," I say, my face eager. "I think we could go."
He looks at me seriously then. "You mean that, don't you?"
"Daniel," I say, pleading. "We could do it."
His face is still hesitant, but I can tell that he wants to say yes.
"Daniel, if we don't do this," I say quietly. "We'll end up like Fiona."
His eyes go wide as he looks at me then. "You – you know about Fiona?"
I nod quietly, not explaining any further. He wonders how I knew – what I knew – but he doesn't ask me now. I can tell him more when we're lying on a beach in San Tropez.
His eyes dart around the patio, as if he's looking for someone who is listening.
"If I agreed to even think about this," he says, "what would the plan look like?"
I bite my lip eagerly. "We could keep it simple, start small. Figure out how to get our passports, or get convincing passports made. Then, the next thing we need is cash. I have nothing," I say, but then my eyes catch on the million-dollar diamond I'm wearing on my hand. "Or, well, I have some of this jewelry his dad gave me."
He frowns at the ring on my finger, remembering – of course – that it was his mother's. I quickly put my hand over it.
"Not this one," I say gently. "This one, we keep. But there are sapphires, other jewels. Just like... sitting in my room."
He pauses for a moment, looking at me seriously, and then he whispers his answer.
"Okay, Fay," he says, very, very quietly. "I'm not saying let's go. I'm just saying... let's look and see. We'll look into how hard it is to get the documents. Then, once we know more... we'll talk again."
I can't help but give a little squeal of joy, and he smiles at my excitement.
"Okay!" I exclaim. "Um, I don't even have a passport though – do you think we can get one?"
He considers it for a moment, opening his mouth to answer, when suddenly the door to the patio flies open, banging hard against the stone wall of the house. I gasp, turning sharply to look at Kent, standing there, seething, his hands clenched in fists at his side.
Both Daniel and I go silent, frozen in our seats. This is bad.
"What the hell," Kent says, striding forward and putting out his open hand between us. "Is this?"
I instantly recognize it.
Shit. Shit.
In Kent's hand is the folded note that Fiona had given me for Alden, that cryptic poem inside. It's been opened – clearly, Kent has read it – but it still has the tape on it, the same I used to stick it to the back of the desk.
Suddenly seized with fear, I raise my eyes from Kent's hand to his face. I don't say a word.
In response, Kent just grabs my arm, pulling me up out of my chair and along with him back into the house. He's angry, of course, but his grip doesn't hurt me. He's still firmly in control.
"Dad!" Daniel calls after him, coming into the house as well. "Stop! What's happening! What did she –"
"No," Kent says, turning to look firmly at his son. "You stay here."
Daniel stops in his tracks, seeing the look on his father's face. Still, he tries once more.
"Dad, let her go – don't do this –"
"You stay here. If you kept your woman in line," Kent says, his voice dangerous, "then I wouldn't have to do this."
With that, he again storms forward, dragging me behind him across the kitchen. Towards that small white door in the corner.
My blood goes cold when I see where we're heading.
"No," I say, finding my voice, throwing my weight back, digging my heels into the tiled floor. "Please, no!"
He ignores me, continuing to move forward, tugging me once so that I lose my balance and have to stumble after him –
Then, we're through the door – heading down the stairs –
Down the little dim hallway, towards...
I cry out again when I realize where he's taking me. Kent only checks his stride to throw open the metal door to that room.
That room. The same one where I had looked through the door – seen Kent, his belt in his hands –
Those two men, chained to his chair –
"Please," I beg, my voice frantic, terror snaking through every limb in my body. "Kent, please – I promise, I didn't do anything –"
"It's time," Kent says, pulling me into the room and tossing me so that I stumble the last few steps and stop myself against a metal table across the far wall. "Time for you to learn your place, Fay."
I lean back against the table, horrified, as Kent strides forward and closes the distance between us.