A Bedtime Story

by L. C. Moon

  They kept driving silently. Laura was looking out the window, pondering about the meaningless life she led up to this point. Did she ever truly live? And now it was too late. Worse than the fear of the life awaiting her, it was the stab of knowing she was leaving nothing worthy behind that hurt the most. Eventually she noticed a car fast approaching. For the two seconds they were side by side, Laura chanced a side glance and noticed it was a woman at the wheel. Her heart started racing. Could she try anything?

  “Don’t even think about it.” His calm voice conveyed the threat. “Of course I’ll think about it!” she snapped back before she could think her response through.

  “Careful, Laura…”

  “Well… you said to be honest…”

  He gave her a long measured look, a smile curving on his lips. “I also said to be respectful. Watch your tone.” His voice was stern, but she could feel the smile he repressed.

  The sun had risen by the time he finally turned into a long cobblestone driveway with cedars planted on each side. It was an imposing estate in a very secluded area. They passed electronically controlled gates, to continue the long drive up to a huge white stone mansion. Men dressed in black, not unlike the ones she had seen earlier, were spread throughout the premises. Kayne turned to face her and with the same sweet smile announced, “Here it is, home sweet home.”

  He got out and once again walked over to her side, opening her door and offering his hand.

  She remained frozen in place.

  “Get out,” he ordered, all traces of the sweet smile evaporating into thin air.

  She gave him a feeble hand, but when her feet hit the ground, they refused to move. She knew, once she entered this house, she would never leave. Impatiently, he dragged her forward. She stumbled, her knees weak, her ankle still torturing her at the smallest bit of pressure. Kayne wrapped his right arm around her back, keeping his left hand firmly gripped to her arm. They climbed the few marble steps leading to the massive French doors at the main entrance where one of the security men held the door open for them. They walked in to an opulent vast room, high ceilings and all. A slightly overweight older woman in uniform was waiting for them. She had greying hair tied in a low bun, and her fingers were laced in front of her, as she offered them a kind smile.

  “Master Kayne.” She respectfully bowed her head.

  “Olga, this is Laura Spencer. She will be staying with us.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Spencer.” Her smile seemed genuine, but she showed no reaction to Laura’s pathetic appearance. Laura would not find an ally in her.

  Unsure how to react, she nodded quietly. It was in this moment that the absurdity of it all started to dawn on her. This was it, it was really happening. But she wasn’t freaking out, she just felt numb.

  “Laura, this is Olga. I trust her with my life. While I am not here, she will see to anything you may need.” He looked at his watch. “She’ll show you around tomorrow. Feel free to go wherever you want and use anything at your disposal on the first floor. Just don’t go downstairs, upstairs, or outside without my direct consent. Understood?”

  She nodded again, her stare blank.

  “There is no Internet. The phone lines will connect you to Lucas, my head of security. If there is an emergency, simply dial 9. You will not be able to make any other type of calls. There is security outside the house ’round the clock and cameras in every direction. All the windows and outside doors are equipped with alarms. My men were given my instructions. Please don’t try anything stupid… I think that about covers it for now.” He paused then surprised her by adding, “Are you hungry?”

  She wasn’t hungry, just tired, so incredibly tired. All she wanted was to curl into a ball, cry herself to sleep, and hopefully never wake up.

  Day-1

  Olga led her to her room. It was very pretty, and girly. A woman had obviously lived there, a woman with expensive and elegant taste. Who was this woman? Where was she now?

  Olga politely asked her if she would need anything else before excusing herself and closing the door. The door did have a lock, but the old style, with a key, which Laura doubted would ever be given to her. It could have been worse. She felt an urge to investigate her new living space, but her tiredness took over in one swift wave. She barely had the strength to kick off her heels before collapsing on the big fluffy bed, still wearing the grey chiffon dress.

  She slept deeply and had many dreams, mostly about her childhood, mostly about Peter. By the time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky. She opened and shut her eyes a few times. She had almost forgotten… She decided she would not move from the bed. She would stay there, right on that spot, and not move a muscle until she died. The thought almost made her smile.

  Olga came in a short while later, pushing a metal trolley bursting with appetizing scents. “Ah, Miss Spencer, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I hope you slept well. I would have knocked, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Laura barely moved her head in her direction, tucking the sheet further up to her neck.

  “Well, I don’t want to disturb you. Master Kayne will be home for supper. It will be served at seven, but I thought you might be a little hungry.”

  Laura cringed at the mention of his name. How could this woman seem so casual about the situation? Did she not know who her employer was? He was obviously part of a criminal organization. Did she not care? Was she some type of Mafia-wife nanny turning the blind eye?

  “Supper…? What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice raspy from sleep.

  “Four thirty in the afternoon.” Olga was always smiling that kind smile of hers.

  “Uh, okay, thank you.”

  “Well, if you won’t be needing anything else, I will be in the kitchen. I can come back later if you like and give you the tour?” “No, thank you. I’d rather stay in here, if that’s okay.” Laura wasn’t rude, just cautious. A small part of her, her apparently very off intuition, led her to trust the woman, while every other logical and pragmatic part of her screamed caution.

  “As you wish.” Olga smiled again before heading out, leaving the trolley in the room.

  Laura was weary to touch the food. What if it was drugged? But what would be the alternative, starve to death? She actually considered the option for a moment, but dieting was never her strong suit. She seriously questioned her willpower in the face of famine.

  She slowly made her way out of bed, as if being observed, careful with every move. Her ankle was still swollen and hurt the moment she tried to stand on it. She limped to the trolley and dragged it close to the bed to sit back down. The bed was safe, she had claimed it. The rest of the room was still hostile territory.

  She opened the metal dome to find eggs Benedict. She would have usually been thrilled, but her stomach turned at the first bite. It was too heavy, and her fragile nerves were affecting her appetite. She closed the dome, subdued, and crawled back under the sheets. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come again.

  It was six fifty when Olga come to fetch her. Laura had finally taken notice of the grandfather clock in her bedroom. She had spent the day between the bed and the en suite luxurious marble bathroom, which had proved very useful after she got sick repeatedly, dry heaving into the toilet.

  Olga rapped gently at the door. “Miss Spencer?”

  “Yes…”

  Opening the door halfway, just enough to peek her head through, Olga took care not to enter the room. “I just wanted to tell you that supper will be ready in ten minutes, in case you need to get prepared. I will come back in a few minutes to take you to the dining area.”

  “Actually, can I stay here, if that’s okay? I’m not really hungry. I don’t feel very good. I’d rather stay in bed.”

  “Oh? Is something wrong? Can I get you anything?”

  “No, no, thank you. I would just like to sleep.”

  “Very well. I’ll advise Master Kayne you are feeling ill.” Her words fei
gned concern, but her tone seemed anxious, if not vexed.

  ***

  Olga hurried apprehensively to the master of the house. She was all too aware of his bad temper; you simply did not disobey Kayne Malkin. He had inherited his mother’s wild Italian temper. Thankfully he also possessed her good humor, some of her kindness, and all of her charm. His father’s heritage was more sinister. From him, Kayne got his eyes and good looks, his ability to manipulate, his need to dominate, and his very blurry sense of morality. Lev Malkin was of Russian origin, born in his homeland. He had left his country at a young age to immigrate to Canada with nothing but a picture of his family and the clothes on his back, as was most often the case in those days. He was a serious man, cold and calculating, even heartless when needed. Yet he was fair. He looked after his own, rewarded loyalty generously, and dealt with betrayal swiftly. He followed his own code of ethics and didn’t make any exceptions or excuses, for anyone.

  He soon found out how to put those traits to good use and rose quickly to high ranks in the Organization. They didn’t have a name, though members referred to it as the Family. Lev met and impressed the right people. Though mostly composed of Russian expats, the Organization saw its members diversify over the years. Its core and highest positions, however, remained exclusively in the grasp of the true blood, Russian born, or descendants. In this strange new land, they flocked to each other and looked out for their own. When Lev met Olga, she had nowhere to go. He took her in and gave her a job. He was a fair employer, strict, demanding, but never inappropriate. That alone earned him her complicit silence.

  When he met Kayne’s mother a few years later, it was love at first sight. It took him over a year to convince the beautiful Italian student to give him the time of day, but eventually, he succeeded. He always got what he wanted. They had a whirlwind romance and were married within the year. A beautiful boy followed. How Olga loved that boy, that quiet boy, so determined, even at a young age.

  Olga knew, she didn’t delude herself about what type of man that boy grew up to be. But she loved him as a son. He was the only son she ever knew, and she was the only mother he’d ever have. She watched him grow up, shaped in his father’s mold. Lev would have been proud. Kayne was ruthless, calculating, and cautious, never flashy. And yet he could still show kindness, and that by itself was a miracle. When his mother died, he was still a toddler, and Olga knew right then that she would never give up on him, that she would always love him, no matter what. If his father earned her loyalty to the Organization, the boy ensured her devotion to the Malkins.

  He was already sitting at the dining table, head hanging back and eyes closed when Olga walked in.

  “Master Kayne…”

  He opened his eyes tiredly and his stare immediately darkened, sensing her nervousness. “Where is she?” he snapped.

  “That’s the thing… She says she is not feeling well… She asked to stay in her room to rest.”

  “Did she now…” He exhaled slowly, bemused, tapping the fork absentmindedly against the table.

  “You technically haven’t requested her presence, and she did ask if it was okay…”

  He looked her straight in the eye, he knew where this was going. She was pleading her case to avoid her any reprisal. He had already known when he brought her to the house that Olga would take her under her wing. She had always been the nurturing type, and he loved her for it. He wasn’t even sure he even knew what love was, but what he felt for Olga was probably the closest thing. He gave her an indulgent smile.

  “Fine, let her be.”

  Olga smiled at him gratefully, approvingly, and excused herself. He ate alone, reviewing the events of the past twenty-four hours in his head. He wondered when his mind changed. She wasn’t the first pretty girl he delivered to the wolves. Hell, he had done far worse. What was different that time? He surprised himself; he took a big risk for her. Maxwell was not happy about the arrangement at all, but Maxwell was not to be worried about. Though he had gained considerable power and prestige in the Organization over the past years, Kayne still outranked him. Dimitri Drugov, the big boss and the only one above him, was the worrisome one. If he couldn’t convince him, it would not end well, for anybody.

  Why couldn’t he just leave her in the room? She would have talked, he had no doubt. He thought back to her big teary eyes supplicating him quietly, desperately, and he could feel himself harden. No, he hadn’t saved her out of mercy. He saved her because he wanted to be the one to make her cry and beg. He saved her so he could be the one to break her and have her in all the ways he wanted. But first she would have to surrender, willingly, and he would have to make her. He wondered if it was even possible at all considering the situation. Kayne had never personally held a woman captive before. But she was attracted to him. He smiled to himself as he replayed scenes from the club in his head, remembering her bashful ways, her nervousness. He would just need to buy himself some time, but he would have her, powerless and at his mercy.

  ***

  It was past one in the morning when Laura woke up with her stomach growling. She got up and paced in her room a little, eyeing the door hesitantly. Her ankle was feeling a little better. She decided on conquering her quarters before venturing further in the house to appease her hunger. The closets and drawers were bursting with all types of clothing, from casual to formal wear, most with the tag still on and in her size. The vanity contained all the beauty supplies a girl could ever need. She wondered if they were purchased for her, but that couldn’t be. He never meant to bring her back to his home. He was ready to walk out on her in that room. She wondered if she would still be alive if he had. Would she be mutilated? How much pain would she have endured? She shuddered at the thought. Her hands were still shaking when she finally reached for a pair of comfortable grey sweat pants and a cozy purple hoodie. Her eyes fell back to the clothes, and she wondered what fate had befallen the mysterious tenant.

  Laura lingered behind the closed door for a few more minutes, gathering courage before she cautiously pulled the handle. It swayed open without a sound. The house seemed deserted, all the lights off. She breathed a little easier at the observation as she tiptoed down the hall, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Passing a few closed doors on each side, she finally made her way back to the grand entrance area containing the double stairs leading to the ominous upper level. Anything beyond that point was stepping into new territory. But he said she could go as she pleased on the first floor, and so she reassured herself that she wasn’t breaking any rules. The affirmation, along with her howling stomach, strengthened her resolve. She marched on, in her quest to find the much-sought-after kitchen, regretting for a moment turning down Olga’s offer of giving her the tour. The truth was, she was just too terrified of running into him.

  The kitchen was fortunately right behind the wall, to what she presumed was the western wing. It was huge, with the big marble island and countertops displayed in all the magazine kitchens. It had an open concept layout with a spacious dining area in the front. It was dimly lit by spotlights in the ceiling. She rejoiced in her small victory and headed to the double-door stainless fridge to reap the fruits of her conquest. It was packed full. She didn’t want to move too many things and risk waking someone with the noise. Clumsy as she was, better safe than sorry. She opted for the first loaf of bread she saw, carefully taking out a slice from the package, grabbed a piece of ham, and thanked her luck when she found plates in the first cupboard she opened. As silently and swiftly as possible, she slapped the piece of ham on the bread and headed out of the kitchen, looking back to ensure she left no trace of her nighttime excursion.

  The lights suddenly shone to their full brightness as she found herself face-to-face with him. Startled, she let out a scream, dropping the plate to the floor. It shattered at her feet, her nerves crumbling along with the porcelain plate.

  “I’m so sorry, you startled me. I… I’m really sorry. I’ll clean it up.” She bent down to pick up the mess sh
e just created.

  “Leave it.”

  She looked up, terrified for an instant, and obeyed, remaining still with her eyes nervously traveling from his face to the floor. His expression was hard to read, though he didn’t seem angry. He looked down at the mess, then back at her in one slow motion.

  “So… of all the choices, you went for a ham sandwich?” he asked her, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile.

  “I didn’t want to make noise and disturb anyone…”

  “Relax, have a seat.” He pointed to one of the stools with a tilt of his head. “Let’s see if we can fix you a little something.” He walked leisurely to the fridge and opened the door to consider the available options.

  She hurried to the stool, sitting with her back straight and her hands properly crossed on her lap. Good girls with proper manners were always treated better, she recalled her second-grade teacher saying. She was a good girl. She would always do what she’s told, always looked to compromise and please, hoping her fate would be the better for it.

  “So I see you’re feeling better,” he added without looking at her. “Yes. Thank you,” she managed sheepishly.

  He stopped rummaging in the fridge, popping his head up to stare her up and down. “Hmm,” he uttered, unconvinced.

  She immediately lowered her eyes. She would have done anything to avoid his stare. Her heart was racing. She was terrified she had gotten herself into trouble getting caught in the kitchen when supposedly sick in bed. She would pull all the thank yous and pleases necessary and remain on her best behavior facing his suspicious good mood.

  “How about chicken?”

  “That’s perfect, thank you.”

  He proceeded to pull a few things out, chicken, salad, some rice, then heated her meal in the microwave. “What do you want to drink?”

  “I’m okay, thank you.”

  “I have Diet Pepsi… Don’t all girls drink Diet Pepsi?” he tempted her, offering her an impish smile. She loved Diet Pepsi. It was, in all truth, the only nonalcoholic beverage she drank.