"How will I know if you need anything?" I didn't see a phone anywhere, or even one of the intercom buttons.
"I won't."
"What if you need to pee?"
He finally managed a smile, it was soft and barely there, but it was genuine. "Thank you for your kindness. I'll be fine." I hesitated, then walked to the door.
"Remember," he called out. "Not until six. Not for any reason." I nodded and left the room.
Chapter 7
I couldn't sleep. I kept opening my door and peeking down the hall at Brett's room. He'd forbade me to come in until six, but I couldn't help wondering if he was really alright in there. I kept picturing the sorrow in his tired, weary eyes as I closed the cuffs on his wrists. What if he was thirsty? Or hungry? Or suffering a heart attack at this very minute?
The last thought was what did me in. I couldn't handle the image of him lying chained to his bed while his heart slowly gave out and the life faded from his body; all because I didn't check on him. Just a quick peek inside—that's all. Just so I'll know he's safe.
I tiptoed down the hall, wavering outside his door. My hand went straight to the keypad then pulled back. As concerned as I was, I didn't want to piss him off. I opened the wooden door that was more for show than anything else and pressed my ear to the steel one behind it. It was cold and hard and I couldn't hear a thing. I listened harder, straining my ears until I thought they might bleed.
"Get away!" A voice, harsh and loud and very close, shouted from behind me. I jumped and almost screamed. Jeremy stood in the hallway, glaring at me.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said, terrified. “And what the hell, sneaking up on people? Creep, much?” Was it really that strange to want to check on Brett and make sure he wasn't dead? "I only wanted to make sure he was alright. Do you know what he's doing in there? That he's chained up to—" I paused, wondering exactly how much Jeremy actually knew. "Do you know..."
"About his condition?"
I screwed my face up. "Condition?"
Jeremy looked taken aback for a minute, like he'd let something slip that he shouldn't have. "I know about everything that goes on in this house," he snapped. "You are not to return to his room until six. It is only now just past midnight. I advise you to go to sleep. For your own good."
I took one last look at the steel door before stepping away and heading back to my room. Jeremy followed me until I was inside, where I shut and locked the door. Something was definitely off about Jeremy. Did he know that Brett was losing his mind? Maybe he was playing into Brett’s delusions, whatever they were. I bet he's after Brett’s money. Suddenly things made perfect sense. Brett was rich, but mentally ill. He had no friends or family that I'd seen, only Jeremy, who was no doubt manipulating him.
I laid my head down on the pillow and realized how soft my bed was. It was a far cry from Colin's couch. Funny how I'd so quickly gotten used to thinking of my old apartment and the things in it as Colin's. We had lived there together for six months, yet it was Colin's apartment, Colin's couch, Colin's everything. Had I ever had anything that was really mine?
Before I knew it I was asleep. I had bad dreams of floating on storm clouds while monsters chased after me. I opened my eyes around two and starting thinking about Brett again. I got out of bed and took one quiet step towards his room but didn't dare go inside, not if Jeremy was going to be hovering so close by. I could have sworn he’d told me that Brett and I were the only ones sleeping here at night.
Instead, I decided to explore a little. If this was to be my new home, I should know where things were. Maybe there was something I could use to free Brett from the strange hold Jeremy had over him. I wandered up and down the halls, opening doors that weren't locked and poking my head into places where I wasn't sure I should be, but went anyway.
One room looked like a movie theater. It had the same style of chairs that you'd find in a theatre, only richer and plusher. Some of them were actually more like theater love seats than chairs. There was even a concession stand. It was a cute room. Back by the projection booth I noticed a trophy case. Curious about what sort of trophies I'd find in a media room, I went for a closer look. The shelves were lined with Oscars, Golden Globes, and SAG Awards. My mouth dropped open as I read each inscription. Brett Elliot...producer.
Suddenly everything slid into place. I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been. I'd read about Brett Elliot a hundred times. A thousand times! His name was mentioned in papers and online content across the country. He was known for producing blockbuster after blockbuster. Also for being a complete recluse. His life was one big secret that no paparazzi had ever been able to crack.
I'm working for the biggest producer in Hollywood!
Holy cow. If Colin knew where I was, he'd piss himself. I was tempted to text him just to mess with him a little.
Having this new information, I felt better, safer somehow. It gave me some context for what was going on here. I still didn't trust Jeremy, but at least now I knew who I was really working for. I went back to my room, intending to force myself into a restful sleep, but found my mind drifting again and again to the image of Mr. Brett Elliot, award winning and esteemed producer, chained to his bed.
By the time six o'clock arrived, I was showered, dressed, and waiting anxiously to see whether my new employer was alive or dead. When my alarm finally dinged I ran from the room and down the hall. There were no sounds from inside Mr. Elliot's room. The door unlocked and I ran inside to find his body hanging limp, his clothes torn so badly to shreds that he was completely naked. His face and chest were covered in scratches that looked like claw marks.
"Mr. El- Brett! Oh my God, are you alright?" I ran to his side.
He turned his head to me as I released him, throwing the cuffs aside. I was too worried about him to be embarrassed by his nudity. I ran my hand over his head, along his back and chest, searching for wounds. Despite the blood, he seemed fine. The scratches that looked like claw marks seemed to fade as I ran my hand over them, like dry erase marker.
"I don't understand," I said, looking to him for answers. "What happened to you? Did someone hurt—"
But he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him before I could finish, molding his lips to mine. His mouth was wet and hot and as his tongue gently but demandingly worked its way inside my mouth, I half-heartedly pushed my hands against his rock hard chest, trying to stop him. But his large chiseled body enveloped me and heat crept up my body, settling into the apex between my thighs in a slow burn that made my whole body ache. I pressed myself against him; his splayed fingers reaching through my hair grasping the back of my head. I heard a soft moan escape my lips.
"Kaitlyn," he murmured. I bit his ear and wrapped my legs around his waist, my heart throbbing.
Suddenly, it all stopped. He pushed me away so fast I fell off the bed and bumped my head. "Ow," I said.
"I'm sorry," he said, wrapping a sheet around his body and jumping off the bed. "Did I hurt you? Are you alright?" I yanked my arm away, irritated at the sudden change in affection. One minute I have his erect cock rubbing against my jeans in just the right places, daring me to jump into the deep end, the next he was pushing me away like I had an infectious disease.
"I'm fine," I snapped.
"Kaitlyn I—I'm sorry." His eyes were so sincere. "I just didn't know what else to do." He wrapped his hands around his head and held it like he had a massive migraine. His eyes puckered and turned glassy. "It's getting harder for me to control," he whimpered.
"What is?" I asked, my anger melting. He was obviously in pain- agony for what I could tell; I just didn't know why.
I reached out a hand and he swatted it away, straightening his back. Maybe he really is crazy. "It won't happen again," he said, rounding back his shoulders and looking me straight in the eyes. They weren't the blue green I'd been mesmerized by when first meeting him, they were a deep brown with flecks of gold. Impossible. Eyes don't randomly change color like
that. "You have my word. I won't touch you like that again."
I nodded my head, as if that was what I wanted to hear. Then left him alone to get dressed before he could see the disappointment on my face and the deep confusion in my eyes.
Chapter 8
It's amazing how fast something can become routine. What's even more amazing is how much crap a person will put up with when they're attracted to someone. Every time I tried to leave the house Jeremy was there, reminding me that part of my contract involved my being available to Mr. Elliot 24/7. That meant not going anywhere that wasn't within a 100 foot radius of the house. Auditions disappeared. I didn't have any friends in L.A. to begin with, or they'd have disappeared too. I felt like a prisoner. At least when I was auditioning I had physical contact with people. Now, half the time Brett ignored me, the rest of the time... well the rest of the time it was like we were the sole survivors of some terrible catastrophe. The last two people alive on Earth, clinging to each other as a lifeline.
It was those times that kept me here. Being with Brett could be incredibly easy, we strolled through the grounds, ate dinner on the terrace, laughed at silly things, and my body still ached for him. I told myself there wasn’t a red-blooded woman alive who wouldn’t drool over his witty charm and drop-dead gorgeous looks. But he felt something for me, too. I was certain. There were times when I’d look up to catch him staring at me for a moment before he quickly turned away. In those moments, when I’d catch him unsuspectingly, his face had such a pained longing, it took my breath away.
I only wished I knew how to create more of the good times and get rid of the sullen, morose, moody Brett forever. Jeremy was constantly around, though his presence was often hidden. I would think that Brett and I were alone only to walk out of a room and discover Jeremy standing against a wall, listening.
This morning I was in the kitchen, contemplating the strange relationship that had developed between my employer and me, when he stumbled in, bleary eyed, searching for coffee.
"Coffee," Brett demanded. I could already tell this was going to be one of the bad days.
"Yeah, alright. Coming up," I mumbled, irritated that he hadn't even said good morning. Though it wasn't expressly written, part of my duties seemed to include bringing him crap that he could easily get himself. It was a wonder that I didn't brush his teeth for him.
Luckily, the coffee pot was still hot. I pulled it from the coffeemaker and tripped over my own feet. Half the coffee flew across the room and hit Mr. Elliot square in the chest. The glass pot shattered on the floor. I felt the other half of the coffee spurt out and burn my arm as I fell onto a million shards of glass that instantly dug into my skin and stung me like a million bees.
"Shit!" I yelled.
Brett rushed to me. He stepped on the glass with his bare feet like he was walking on bubbles. "Kaitlyn! Are you alright?" He scooped me off the floor and pulled me into his arms. They were thick, and his muscles rippled as he held me protectively against him.
"Brett, your chest. Aren't you burned?" His face flushed as I struggled in his arms, certain he was hurt much worse than me.
"I'm fine," he said, holding me tighter as he carried me across the room and sat me on a couch.
"But I saw the coffee burn you."
"I'm fine," he repeated. “Let me see your arm." He pulled my hand, straightening my arm out. It had a giant red patch where the coffee had burned me. Bits of glass stuck out of my skin at all angles. Apparently, my left arm had taken the brunt of the injuries. I was glad I wasn't left handed. His eyes moved swiftly over the rest of me, searching my body for anything else that might be injured and leaving me with a tingling desire in my lady bits.
"Stay here," he said, leaving me in the living room. He returned a minute later with a first aid kit and some tweezers. "I need to get the glass out before we can treat the burn."
His eyes were the normal blue green I loved. I watched them swim with concern. "I'm okay," I said, "really."
He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and pulled a piece of glass from my arm the size of a dime. My face went white. I'd never been very fond of blood, especially my own. "Okay," I told him. "Maybe not exactly fine. Go ahead. Patch me up."
I closed my eyes but winced every time Brett pulled a piece of glass from my skin. The third time I jumped and Brett held my hand, massaging my palm with his fingers before continuing. "Tell me about yourself," he said, pulling out a tiny piece of glass that had embedded itself into my elbow. "What was it you said you did before coming here." I had a feeling Brett was trying to distract me. I decided to let him.
"Ow," I winced. "I'm an actress. Well... sort of."
His eyes lifted to mine. We were so close I could smell his sweat. It was like cedar and eucalyptus. I inhaled deeply as he continued. "Sort of?" he asked.
"Well, my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—Colin, has had a lot better luck at it than I have."
"Oh? And how much luck have you had?" he asked, dropping another piece of glass onto the table.
"None," I tried to smile but my lips turned down instead of up.
Brett's hand reached out, caressing the back of my leg. His eyes were soft and seemed to dig to the very core of me. "It takes time," he said. "What about Colin? Where is he now?"
"In our old apartment, probably banging some skank he picked up at a bar. He did that a lot when we were together, I don't see why he should've stopped now that we're apart."
Brett's eyes darkened. "He cheated on you?"
I laughed. "Constantly. Then again..." I paused. "Is it really cheating if I know what's going on?" I blushed, embarrassed.
Brett's eyes started to twitch. "You knew he was cheating on you yet you said nothing?" I nodded, feeling my throat dry up. "So you prefer men who would hurt you to those that would love you unconditionally?" he asked, finally setting the tweezers down. His eyes burned. I felt my defenses kick in.
"Hurt me? No, I just... I don't have a lot of friends."
"There's a reason for that."
I yanked my arm out of his grip. "What is that supposed to mean? You mean because I'm fat?"
Brett's muscles flexed and he looked at me with eyes that were hard and dark. "Because you have no self-confidence. Don't put yourself down so much. Why are you women always putting yourselves down?"
I knew Brett was in a bad mood when he’d walked into the kitchen this morning, but after being burned and having shards of glass removed from my arm, I wasn’t in the best of moods either. Something about the way he said “you women” or maybe it was the words he chose that spiked my bitch-o-meter.
"I don't know," I snapped back, "maybe the same reason men like you are always locking themselves up in dungeons."
"Oh really?" he shouted, standing up. "I guess you know a lot more about men than I've given you credit for," he yelled, the heat in his cheeks rising to match his voice.
"Are you calling me a slut now?" I stormed towards the front door.
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
"Out."
"You can't. It's against your contract. I forbid it."
I turned on my heels. "You forbid it?"
Brett squared his shoulders. "That's right."
It was just then that my phone rang. I only answered it to piss Brett off. I was a little confused by how we'd gone from his caressing my leg to the all-out war we were in the middle of. "Hello?" I snapped into the receiver.
"Kaitlyn?" My face turned pale. "Colin?"
"Yeah."
"What the hell do you—" Then I saw Brett's face. He looked jealous. "Colin, hey, what's up? I was just thinking about you actually."
"You were?"
"Yeah."
I heard Colin take a deep breath before launching into a prepared speech. "I called because I wanted to say I was sorry for the way I treated you."
I was so shocked at his words that I forgot to breathe. "You are?"
"Of course I am! I was a complete idiot. I was hoping you'd let me take you to dinner to
night. I'd like to talk to you. To explain why I treated you like that when you deserved so much better."
"Well..." I should have told him to fall in shit and roll around. That was my first instinct. But Brett was watching me, his cheeks were flushed. And after three weeks cooped up with a narcissistic crazy person, it was nice to hear an outside voice.
"I can't really meet you for dinner. I... I'm stuck at work all day today." Then an idea struck me. "Would you like to meet me here? Where I'm living now?" I held the phone away from my mouth and tried to make my eyes look cold as I turned to Brett, " I am allowed to have friends over, aren't I?" He nodded, though I could tell he hated the idea. But he wasn't about to let me think I'd gotten the best of him.
I was thinking of the movie room. Colin and I could easily watch something in there after I got Brett locked down for the night. We would never be a couple again, but maybe we could at least be friends. It would be nice to have a friend.
I gave Colin directions and he promised to meet me here at 9:30 tonight.
Chapter 9
I don't know why I'd gotten dressed up for Colin. No—that's a lie. I wanted to look good so Colin would know exactly what he was missing. I opened the door at 9:30, and he stood there with his jaw open and his hands trembling. I smiled.
"Hey," I said, trying my best to sound casual. Inside, I was shouting with glee.
"Hey. Uh... you look nice."
"Thanks. Come on in." I swung the door open wider, and he stepped over the threshold. He gave a low whistle and looked at me with a new respect.
"You live here?" he asked.
My smile widened as I led Colin down the hall towards the theatre. "Yeah. I mean, it's my boss's place. The room came with the job."
"Wow," he said, eyeing the treasures around the house. It was hard not to. The paintings on the walls alone were probably worth millions. "Where's your room? Can I see it?" he asked.
I hesitated. I was okay with Colin being in the house and us hanging in the theatre, but showing him my room was another thing altogether. I had no intention of sleeping with him and didn't want him to get the wrong idea.
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