“I could lie.” I feel like slapping myself. Why would I say that to him?
“I’ll figure it out, and I’ll kill everyone. I figured out what you can do so far, and I’ll figure out if you’re lying, Lexi.”
I keep staring at him. He really is a good-looking guy. He can’t be any older than twenty-two or twenty-three, but I doubt his age has anything to do with his ruthlessness. “Get out,” I say while staring at him. I want to smack him. I want to grab something and smash it against his fucking head. “GET OUT!”
He stands, buttons up his suit jacket and heads for the door. “I’ll have food sent up to you in a few moments. Please, wear what you like, the wardrobe has been stocked in everything you may require. The bathroom has whatever you need, and there are towels in the storage cupboard in the bathroom. The housekeeper will be here in the morning. If you need anything, you can either look up there and ask.” He points to the corner of the room, and I see a tiny camera pointing down. “Or you can knock on the door, and the guard stationed outside will call me.”
“The door’s locked. Why do I need a guard? Is it in case I break the window and jump out?”
“The window is unbreakable.”
“Of course, it is.” I roll my eyes at him.
“You have no allergies to any food, so my chef will make you something appropriate to eat.”
“You might try to poison me.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “You’re too useful to me to poison you.”
“I hate you.” I stand from the floor and straighten my shoulders at him. “I hate you so much.”
“I’m not the bad person here, Lexi. You’ll eventually figure it out.”
“Threatening to kill my parents and my best friend puts you at the top of the list of assholes who are in fact, bad people.”
“I want to protect you, but I also want to use your gift.”
“At this moment, it’s nothing more than a curse. And I fucking hate you,” I spit angrily toward him.
He gives me a curt nod, turns and leaves. The door closes with a resonating bang, and the finality of this situation dawns on me.
I’m stuck here, and if I don’t do what he wants, he’s going to kill everyone and let me live with the consequences.
And he says he’s not the bad person.
What an asshole.
I’ve been stuck in this room for a day. There’s a huge, beautiful clock beside the door that continues to tick. It’s driving me nuts, because it’s the only sound I can hear.
True to his word, Jude has sent food up to me, but I haven’t had an appetite. He’s also sent a doctor in to see me and make sure I’m okay. The doctor was wearing gloves, so I suspect he’s under instructions not to touch me.
I’m lying on the bed, and I’m staring up at the blank ceiling. There’s a knock on the door, before I hear it unlock and open. I sit up, and watch as to who’s going to come in.
Jude enters the room, and stands in the open doorway. “What do you want?” I ask.
“The chef said you haven’t eaten anything he’s sent up for you.”
“Not hungry.” I turn over in the bed and stare out the window.
“You have to eat, or you’ll become weak.”
“Not hungry.”
“Well too bad. The chef is sending our lunch up, and you’ll have to eat it.”
Man, he’s pissing me off. “And what if I’m not hungry? It’s a bit difficult to eat when I’ve been told that I’m going to be your lackey or you’ll kill my parents and best friend. You being an asshole and keeping me here against my will is not exactly conducive to a healthy appetite.”
“I apologize if you think it’s against your will. Please.” He steps aside from the door and sweeps his hand to the open space.
“I can go?” I don’t get him, he’s up to something. He’ll shoot me in the head the moment I step outside this bedroom.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Standing from the bed, I slip my shoes on and take a step toward the door. There’s the same guy standing on the other side, looking intimidating and scary. “But you’re going to shoot me.”
“I won’t kill you, no.”
I take another step. My heart’s pounding and suddenly excitement fills me. “I can go?”
“Free as a bird.” He steps further back. “But you won’t have anyone to go to.”
He’s going to kill my parents and Dallas. “That’s not a fucking choice. You’re going to kill them.”
“I said I would. But the choice is most certainly yours. The moment you leave the grounds of this house, the phone call will be made.”
I step forward to him and slap his face as hard as I can. It stings my hand, but I don’t care. I slap him again. He doesn’t stop me. And I slap him a third time, then collapse to the floor in a mess. “Just let me go.”
“You’re free to go.”
“But you’ll kill my parents and Dallas.”
“Yes. But the choice is yours.”
“Then I’m not free. I’m not free to leave, I’m not free to live my life.”
“You’ll live your life here. With me.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“Why are you doing this?” I cover my face with my hands and cry into them. I hate him. I know the questions I’m asking are leading to an endless cycle of torture.
“Come on.” He steps forward and grabs me by the elbow to help me up. I’m wearing a t-shirt and his skin on me, drags me into a vision.
“She’s to be protected at all costs.” He’s standing in a room, in front of eight men all dressed in dark suits similar to his. I recognize the one standing outside my door, but none of the others.
I look around the room and try to find an exit point. The window in his office is opened, and a gust of air blows in, making a paper on the big, grand desk fly off.
“Bullshit,” one of the men coughs-mumbles.
Jude’s head swiftly turns to him, and makes his way over to the guy. “Do you have a problem?”
“This is babysitting duty. Who the hell is she?” the guy responds.
I see the anger in Jude’s face. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. “Have you got a problem with the task I’m assigning you?”
“This is bullshit, Mr. Caley. She’s locked up in that room, and she’s not going anywhere, so why do I have to watch out for her? Why do any of us have to watch out for her?”
Jude straightens to his full height, and with all his might punches the guy in the nose. “I pay you, not the other way around. Next time you disrespect me, I put a bullet in your brain. You’ll do what I tell you.”
The guy is holding his nose, as blood is oozing out of it.
“You say . . .”
And I’m back in my room, on my feet, face to face with Jude.
“What did you see?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply and step away from him.
“This isn’t how it works, Lexi. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt because this is new to you. But you’re now in my world. And in my world, you tell me what you see.”
I shake my head and walk away over to the bench seat. Sitting I let out a pained sigh. “You were in your office.”
“And?” He sits on the bed opposite me.
“You were giving instructions to eight of your men.”
“What type of instructions?”
“About me. You were telling them that I’m to be protected at any cost. One of them wasn’t agreeing with you.”
“Oh, is that right?” he asks, suddenly more invested in the vision. “And who was it?”
“I don’t know, you didn’t mention anyone by name. But the guy, he wasn’t happy with you. You punched him and broke his nose.”
“And?”
“That’s as far as it went. I didn’t see anything else before I was back here.”
“And you saw all of that in the couple of seconds I was touching you?” I avoid his eyes, and
nod. “What are you not telling me, Lexi?”
Asshole. “I looked around your office and saw your window open. It blew a sheet of paper off your desk.”
“You know the rules. If you want to escape, then you can, but you understand the consequences.”
“Then why do you lock me in here considering I really can’t leave.”
“You’ve made a fair point. I’ll leave the room unlocked, but there’ll always be someone outside your door.”
I crinkle my nose and think about what he’s said. If my door remains unlocked, that means others can get in, even when I’m asleep. “Who has a copy of the key to the door?” This is going to sound crazy, but I’ll feel safer if the door remains locked. Jude’s done nothing yet to make me think he’ll hurt me, and he’s made it so obvious he has no intentions on hurting me, but it doesn’t mean one of his ‘guys’ will have the same feelings toward a sixteen-year-old female.
“I do, the chef, the doctor, and the maid. But that camera is always on, and I have a direct feed wherever I am.”
“And what if you’re not here?”
“You’ll be with me.”
I think about the whole situation, and I’ll feel safer—if that’s the word—if I know the door’s locked. “Can you keep it locked?”
“Don’t trust yourself not to escape?”
“You really are an asshole. I know I won’t leave, but I don’t want to be sexually assaulted, or beaten because someone thinks protecting me is beneath them. Or they think I’m a cute sixteen-year-old, so why shouldn’t they take something they’re not entitled to.”
“You’re seventeen soon, and if any one of my men touched you, I’d kill them myself.”
“I’m not an idiot, Jude. There’s no such thing as loyalty among criminals. They’d all happily sell you out if they think they’ll get ahead for themselves.”
“Hmm, interesting you say this.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re right, then you’ll find something when you touch them all.”
“You want me to touch how many people?”
“We’ll start with my chef when he brings us our lunch.”
“I’m not a trained monkey, I don’t know how this works. I have no idea how often I can do it and not burn myself out. I can’t perform on cue.”
There’s a knock on the door, and a guy wearing a checkered black and white apron brings in a cart with two silver domes on top of it. The guy is old, maybe in his sixties with no hair on his head with a salt and pepper moustache.
“Lunch, sir,” he says to Jude.
“Thank you, please bring it here.” Jude has got such nice manners, for a cold-hearted bastard.
Jude looks at me as the old guy wheels the cart over to us. He slightly jerks his head to the side, indicating I have to touch the chef.
“Thank you, the smell is amazing,” I say when he lifts the silver dome on my side. I gently touch his hand and I’m in a vision.
The man is at home, in a quiet dining room, eating dinner on his own. I look around and notice a large black and white photo above the mantel. It’s an older type of picture, with two incredibly young people posing in their wedding photo. It’s definitely the chef, and a stunning blonde woman. They’re both smiling at the camera. They look so happy.
The man has set a place beside him, though no one is sitting with him. I keep looking around, and I see a jar which I now realize is an urn on top of the mantel.
“I miss you, Janet,” he whispers as he continues to eat.
He’s so alone in this vision, but I can feel the loneliness radiating through to me.
“Thank you,” Jude says as I’m thrust back into the room.
The chef smiles, and leaves, closing the door behind him.
Looking down at the plate of food, I focus on the chicken, mashed potato, and greens on the plate.
“What did you see?” Jude asks picking up his fork and starting to eat.
“He’s lonely. His wife Janet passed away but he still sets a plate for her at dinner. They were married for a long time, and he misses her so much.”
“Excellent. Now, eat.” As much as I want to be on a hunger strike, the smell is making my stomach grumble with the need for food.
I search for my cutlery, and find a flimsy plastic fork, no knife. I pick up the fork and huff. “Are you kidding me?” I slam the stupid fork down.
“What?” Jude eats with his proper cutlery.
“You have got to be the biggest asshole I know. Plastic? You gave me a plastic fork, which won’t even pierce the chicken, and no damn knife. You really are horrible.”
“You may try to hurt yourself with cutlery.”
“I’ll hurt you before I hurt myself. But considering you’re trying to rule my damn life, here, cut my food.” I shove my plate toward him.
He moves my plate in front of him, and cuts my food. When he finishes, he slides the plate back in front of me.
“There you go.”
“Will you be gracing me with your presence at every meal?” I sarcastically ask. “Just so I know if I should dress up.”
He laughs. “You really have quite a lot of spunk. I like that about you, Lexi.”
“I don’t like you,” I automatically retort.
“I’ll be joining you as often as possible.”
I lower my eyes and eat a couple of mouthfuls. “Great.”
“Look at me,” he demands.
I look up at him, and he moves his face forward. “I never noticed, but you have a green eye, and your other eye has vivid blue colorings.”
I jump up off my seat, and run into the bathroom to look at my eye.
My left eye is bluer now than it was when Dallas pointed it out. “How is this happening?” I ask as I stare at myself.
Jude appears in the doorway, and leans against the jamb. “What is it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to tell him. He doesn’t need to know, it’s not a vision so it has nothing to do with him. “It doesn’t matter.” I step back, and move past him.
“Lexi.” He grabs my upper arm where my t-shirt is covering my arm. “What is it?”
“It’s not a vision, so it doesn’t matter.”
“But if it’s got to do with you, then I need to know.” He pushes away from the door frame and follows me back to where we were eating our food.
“Fine.”
“Well?”
“My eye is changing color, and I haven’t worked out why yet. They were both green, but this one started changing to blue.” I point to my left eye.
“I’ll have an optometrist come to see you,” he casually says as he picks his fork up to continue eating.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with my vision. It’s the color that’s changing.”
“I’ll have it checked out,” he insists. “To make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to see an optometrist. There’s nothing wrong with my eye except the color is changing.”
“Okay, no optometrist.”
Finally, something I won. Then it dawns on me, is he going to kill my parents? “Are you going to kill my mom or dad or Dallas because I said no eye doctor?” I hold my breath and wait for his answer.
“No, why would I?”
I drop my fake fork on the plate of food. “You’re so frustrating, Jude. You scare the shit out of me and tell me you’ll kill everyone I love if I try to leave, but then you sit there and look amused that I think you’ll kill them because I’m refusing the eye doctor.”
“My rule is I will kill them if you leave. Not if you refuse the optometrist.”
And just like that, my appetite is gone, again.
I stand and make my way over to the door which I open. “Can you leave? And take the food with you.”
He picks up his real cutlery, and steps away from the cart. “I’ll leave the food, but I’m taking the cutlery.”
“And I’ll eat it with my stupid plastic fork. Just take the whole damn thing.�
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“Then eat it with your hands.” He slams the door shut, and I hear the door locking.
What an asshole to the hundredth degree.
Happy-freaking-birthday to me.
Seventeen and stuck in a room with four walls and nothing to do.
Great.
As I lie on the bed, staring up at the blank ceiling, the door unlocks and the guy who I saw in the vision comes into the room. His nose is inflamed and he has dark bruises ringing his eyes. “Boss wants you,” he curtly says to me.
“I don’t care what he wants. He can come and tell me himself.” I continue to lie on the bed, not jumping to the demands of Jude.
“Get up,” he says in an eerily controlled voice.
“No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Get the fuck up, you spoiled little bitch. I don’t give a fuck if you’re sleeping with the boss or not, you’re a damn thorn in my side.” He storms over to the bed and grabs me by the hair, yanking me off the mattress.
I land on the floor with a huge thwack, hitting my back against the edge of the bed. Screaming out in pain, I try and find traction, but the huge guy drags me by my hair toward the door. “Let me go!” I scream at him.
He swings around and drags me up by my hair. With as much force as he’s got, he backhands my cheek. My head swings to the right and an earth-shattering pain rips through my face. “Help,” I yell loudly, hoping the guy outside my door is there and can help me.
“No one here to help you, pet.”
He grabs a handful of my hair and drags me further out of the room. Crying, and in pain, I’m being tossed around like a rag doll.
He pulls me out of the room, and I try to look around me, but he’s being so rough with me that all I can do is grab onto my head and hope he doesn’t rip my hair out from the roots.
We get to the top of a staircase and he lets me go. I take this opportunity to run down the stairs, hoping I don’t fall and kill myself.
I get to the bottom step and leap off it, running toward the front door. The guy standing in front of it looks just as menacing as the guy who came into my room.
“You can’t leave,” he says in a monotone.
Hysterically I beat against him, trying to get away from the guy who’s roughing me up. The guy at the door, lifts his hand and talks into the cuff of his shirt. “Get the boss here, now.”
The Gift: The Butterfly Effect, Book 1. Page 8