by Nikki Chase
He sighs deeply, like it’s a big inconvenience for him to let me know what my fate is going to be. This is my future we’re talking about. I have a right to know.
“Get out,” I say. If he doesn’t want to tell me what I need to know, then I don’t want him here.
Seth stares piercingly at me, as if offended by the notion that I dare to tell him to do anything.
“Get out,” I repeat. “I want you out of here.”
He refuses to budge, but doesn’t say anything. He just continues to scrutinize me with his penetrating gaze.
I raise my voice. “You can’t lock me up here and expect me to just lie down and take whatever you do to me. You can’t keep me here forever. I’d rather die than let you force me to stay here forever.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
“You keep saying that, but you never tell me anything, so how am I supposed to know?” I shout at the top of my lungs. I’ve been holding in my anger for weeks, and now it seems I can no longer keep it bottled up. “Damn it, Seth! I have things that I want to do, goals that I want to achieve. I have a life out there!”
“Your old life doesn’t exist anymore. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
“Fuck you!” I yell out. I don’t usually drop the F-bomb, but I feel like it’s justified here. I can’t even stand to look at him anymore. “Just get out, okay? I need to be alone.
Without a word, Seth gets out of my bed. He never took off his clothes, so he zips up his pants and then he’s done dressing up. He walks out and slams the door behind him.
Damn it. It makes me feel so used now, knowing he just intends to imprison me here forever, without telling me anything. When was he even going to tell me that he’s not planning on ever letting me out?
I thought things were bad when I was trapped in a relationship with Fred. I was so giddy when I met Seth, thinking he’s the perfect man, with his wealth and taste and good looks, but now I see him as the monster he truly is.
One thing is for certain. Since there’s no chance of Seth ever letting me leave, I have to run away.
25
Seth
I glance at the plate of French toast Alice has made for breakfast this morning. Ana has just placed it on my desk and left my office again.
Alice was so pissed off at me last night, I didn’t think it was a good idea to join her for breakfast. To be honest, I didn’t even expect her to cook at all this morning. The last time she got mad, she staged a strike, so I was expecting her to do the same thing again.
She said she needed space. Since all the space she has is now that bedroom, I thought I should just let her have that, at least. I’ve taken everything else away from her, after all.
She was right. There was nothing I could say to refute anything she said.
Too bad. I was really enjoying the time I spent with her. I felt like she was finally trying to get to know me.
The questions she asked were pretty personal, but I didn’t mind it. I actually liked that she was curious about me. For the longest time, things seemed one-sided. I know she wants me—she probably feels the same connection that I do—but that was the first time she showed some interest in my life.
The conversation reminded me of a difficult time in my life. I try not to think about those hard days because it doesn’t accomplish anything, although I’m content with how my life has turned out.
It sounds callous, but I honestly don’t care that my parents died. I didn’t say that just to make Alice feel better about having asked the question.
In fact, if my parents hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be living such a privileged life.
When I got out of prison, I had to work for Walter to survive. I blamed my parents a lot at the time; they could’ve helped me out, but instead I had to resort to doing work that was illegal, back-breakingly exhausting, and violent. I couldn’t see a way out, especially because my criminal record meant that my job prospects were forever ruined.
When I saw the guy who got shot at the asparagus farm, my brain went haywire. I didn’t want to continue working for people who’d kill their workers for needing medical attention. By no means am I a moral paragon, but that shit was just wrong.
Yes, I’m technically an ex-con, but I’m not down for that kind of mindless violence.
I was sure that eventually I was going to do something they didn’t like, and then I’d be the next one to get killed.
Or they’d order me to kill an innocent guy, which would be just as bad. What kind of a life would I lead, with that kind of guilt hanging over me? How would I even sleep? No, I’d rather do anything else.
But I had no other option. I could work for Walter, or I could just live on the streets. I was racking my brain, trying to come up with something—anything—that could earn me money.
Which just proves that Alice’s insight about crime is right. I’m living proof.
When I had money, it never even occurred to me to do anything remotely criminal. Then I became poor and desperate, and suddenly those crimes didn’t seem so crazy anymore. They seemed perfectly normal. I was definitely willing to take more risks.
When I was thinking about quitting Walter’s crew, my plan was to approach some of the other guys from prison. I knew they were also running illegal operations—like I said, there aren’t many employment opportunities for ex-cons—but anything had to be better than working for Walter.
Right in the middle of my internal turmoil, my phone rang.
It was the cops, calling to notify me—my parents’ next of kin—of the accident. I was shocked, but ultimately I didn’t care. They were already dead to me anyway, even when they were still alive.
A few days later, I got another phone call from the family lawyer. He told me I had inherited all my parents’ assets, including their properties, a few million dollars in cash, and the law firm.
At the time I got arrested, I was actually doing quite well learning the ropes of the family business. I had gotten my law degree and I was being given more and more responsibilities within the firm. Things were looking good. My future was bright.
Then I lost it all after the arrest, only to gain it all back when my parents died. Lose some, gain some, I guess.
Immediately, I told Walter I quit, then dropped out of his radar as I started going to the law firm in the city.
Things actually went pretty well there, by many standards. If I were just a successful lawyer in the city, I could’ve courted Alice the way she deserves to be courted, but I’m not.
Maybe I should’ve stayed put where I was, instead of getting myself into trouble like I’m doing now.
Shit.
I’ve wanted Alice since I first laid eyes on her, and I’ve always admired her dedication to her craft, but this is something else.
This is the first time it has ever entered my thought that going back to the city could be a better option than staying here, continuing my life’s work.
I want Alice even more, now that I’ve already had her. I can't get enough of her.
Her stay here was mostly about duty and obligation at first, but now, it's about my all-consuming desire to possess her. Now, I want to keep Alice, even in the unlikely event that all threat to her could be eliminated.
I realize I can’t let her leave now, no matter what.
26
Alice
I knock on Seth’s door. Unlike the last time, there’s no hesitation or anxiety; all my other emotions have been eclipsed by anger.
How dare he steal my whole life, take away all the years I still have in front of me? Who does that?
I wait for, like, twenty seconds and still get no reply from inside. Instead, all I hear is the low murmur of male conversation.
With impatience, I turn the handle and push the door open. Inside, Seth is sitting in his usual swivel chair, facing me, and Raphael is across the desk from him. Both of them stare at me with eyes wide and jaws slack, not expecting the intrusion.
<
br /> Well, they can get used to all kinds of intrusions from me.
Or…wait. Actually, no. They shouldn’t get used to more intrusions from me, because I’ll be gone soon. Goodbye, boys.
“I didn’t see you at lunch.” I look straight into Seth’s blue eyes as I march across the office.
“I thought you needed space,” he says, looking like he doesn’t understand why I’m so worked up.
Of course I’m all worked up, asshole, you gave me a life sentence, when I’ve committed no crime.
“I have something I want to discuss with you.” I put my hands on top of the glass surface of the desk. It feels cool and hard under my fingers.
“Do you… Like, do you need some privacy, guys?” Raphael asks as he strains his neck to look up at me, flicking his gaze between the two of us.
I ignore him, focusing all my anger at Seth.
“Guys? It’s a little awkward here for me,” Raphael whines.
“Shut up,” Seth barks.
“Okay,” Raphael says. “I actually prefer to stay and watch anyway.”
“What is it that you want to discuss, Alice?” Seth asks, ignoring his friend.
“I’m here to get my phone. You agreed to give it back to me yesterday.”
Without saying a word, Seth pulls a drawer open and takes out my phone. It looks smaller than I remember, unfamiliar after not seeing it for only a few days.
I take it from Seth’s hand before he changes his mind. My hand comes into contact with his, and the light graze sends my nerve endings wild. My body remembers his exhilarating touch and it wants more, but I’m not listening to it. Not anymore.
I’m on a mission here.
“And I need to go shop for ingredients,” I say.
“Anthony can do all the shopping for you.”
“No, he can’t,” I insist. “Do you think he pays attention to what kind of cream I want, or what percent I want the milk to be, or what substitutes to get if I can’t get the exact ingredients I want?”
“I’m guessing not,” Seth says with a sigh.
“You’re guessing right. I want to go buy the groceries myself.”
“Fine. We can go in a few minutes, as soon as I’m done here with Raphael.”
“No.”
Seth frowns, not expecting my answer after he has agreed to my request.
“I’m not going with you,” I say. “I told you, I need some space from you, after what you told me yesterday. I still do.”
“Okay, Raphael can take you after we’re done,” Seth says.
Raphael chuckles, until he realizes Seth meant it. He pauses. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Yeah. There’s one that’s just around the corner. Just wait until she gets whatever she needs and drive her back here,” Seth says. Shifting his gaze to me, he says, “It won’t take too long.”
“It won’t take too long,” I agree.
“Okay. I don’t mind,” Raphael says with a shrug. Looking up at me, he says, “Don’t get offended. I like spending time with you, Alice. I just thought my friend here was keeping you under lock and key.”
Seth glares at Raphael.
“I’ll wait outside until you’re done,” I say to Raphael before I turn on my heels and stride out of Seth’s office.
Once the door closes behind me, I stop to drag air into my constricted lungs. I realize I was holding my breath because of the tense atmosphere.
But at least I got what I need: a ride into town.
The first part of my plan worked.
Next: escape.
“So, is this your first time getting out of the house?” Raphael asks casually, as if he’s just asking me about a vacation or something else equally benign and fun.
“Yeah,” I reply.
I look back at Seth’s mansion. It looks so small now that we’ve reached the tall iron gate at the end of the driveway. It looks like one of those expensive doll houses, with the elegant design and intricate details—like the kind I always wanted when I was a little girl and never got.
I’ve never even had the fake miniature version, so I never thought I’d ever get to live in a house like that. But I do live in a house like that now—I mean, I did—and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
It was like having my wish fulfilled by the Genie from Aladdin. Sure, I get to live in a nice, big house, but under fucked-up circumstances. And, oh, by the way, I also can never leave again. Congratulations, me.
Just like Seth, that house is gorgeous and so much better than I can imagine. Yet, in other ways, it’s also much worse than I can imagine. It feels more like a prison than a home.
It’s such a waste. I enjoyed my first week here a lot. I could’ve been happy living here, if I was really hired as a personal chef. But instead, I was kidnapped and placed in Seth’s own version of a witness protection program.
“How are you holding up, Alice? Seth told me it has been rough on you lately.” Raphael seems intent on making conversation.
“Yeah, you can say that again,” I say curtly.
I enjoyed the tour and the little chat we had on my first night at the mansion, but now that I know the sinister truth, it’s hard for me to be friendly with him. He knew Seth was going to imprison me, and he didn’t say anything.
“He’s not a bad person, you know. He’s just…an acquired taste.” Raphael looks at me and raises his eyebrows, evidently proud of having thought up a food-related analogy.
“Keep your eyes on the road.” Despite the strange situation we find ourselves in, I smile. I can still appreciate a good attempt at humor.
I know Seth is not a bad person. He means well, but then the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
“He’s all broken up about it, too. I’ve never seen him so agitated before, not even right after he saw a guy get shot.”
“Oh, you mean his friend, who was with him at the drug bust?” I’m a little surprised to hear Raphael also knows the story.
To be honest, I’ve been doubting everything Seth has told me, including the stories about his past. Anything that comes out of his mouth, I assume to be a lie. If he can lie to me about my own fate, he must be capable of lying about other things, too, so how can I trust him?
Raphael pauses before he says, “Yeah, that one.”
“Why does he do it, then, if it bothers him so much? Why does he keep me here against my will?”
“Like I said before, he has no other choice.” Raphael turns the wheel as we take a left into a two-lane road. Squat little buildings line both sides of the street, many of them restaurants and retail stores.
“I’m just a stranger. He could've left me alone to fend for myself.” I keep my eyes peeled open, searching for a police station, or at least somewhere I can get help.
“Ah, you don't know him as well as I do,” Raphael says. “He has this sense of responsibility, which is quite admirable, really. He feels responsible for dragging you into this, so he wouldn't just leave you on your own. That's just not in his character.”
“Dragging me into this?” I ask, frowning. What does he mean by that?
“Ah, never mind,” he says as he pulls up in front of a big grocery store. “We’re here.”
We get out of the car and enter the store. Maybe I can ask for help from someone in here.
First, though, I need to get away from Raphael. It's a tough task. He stays right beside me as I explore the aisles, like my own shadow.
Luckily for me, there is something I want him to clarify before I say goodbye to this life once and for all.
“So, what you said in the car… What do you mean about Seth dragging me into this?” I ask Raphael as we enter the pasta aisle.
His face, previously bored and disinterested, takes on a panicked quality. He blinks rapidly. “Did I say that?”
“Yes.” I glance at him as I stoop down, pretending to be interested in the packages of spaghetti, fusilli, and macaroni. After seeing Raphael’s reaction, I’m more convinced than ever t
hat I’ve struck a sensitive point.
“You must’ve misunderstood,” he says.
I stand up and step closer to Raphael. I’m tall for a woman, but Raphael is a big man and he has quite a few inches on me.
I look up and stare straight into his eyes. I put on my stern voice, the one I liked to use in my kitchen when I wanted my orders followed. “You said, and I quote, ‘he feels responsible for dragging me into this.’ I know I heard it, clear as day. Now, what did you mean by that?”
Raphael takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I did say that. But I’ve already said too much. You’re going to have to ask Seth, okay?”
“No, not okay. Are you saying that the reason I’m in danger in the first place is because of Seth?”
“I’m not saying that, and I’m not saying anything.” Raphael presses his thumb and index finger together, and slide them over his lips from one corner to the other like he’s zipping them up.
I roll my eyes. I don’t have time for his cute act.
I have an escape to plot.
I stomp down the aisle. Raphael follows a few steps behind me, giving me a little more distance than he did, probably out of fear of being interrogated again.
I look around the grocery store, trying to find people, but there’s only the one guy at rows of check-out counters, and another guy hidden in one of the aisles. I saw that guy earlier, but he has disappeared again. How am I supposed to ask for help when there’s no one around?
“Is there a more traditional market? I can’t find what I need,” I say. “A farmer’s market, maybe?”
A market with many different small stalls would give me more opportunities to interact with people. I could disappear in the crowd and ask someone to help me run away.
Maybe I could even spot a police station on the way there. Failing that, even if I have to go back to the mansion, at least I have my phone now, and I can make a call as soon as I have some time alone.
27