by Riley Ashby
“No, a panda,” I muttered. “Endangered.”
“Pandas aren’t endangered anymore.” I almost screamed when Meyer appeared behind me in the mirror.
“How do you do that? You’re like a barn owl.”
We blinked at each other in the mirror for a second before he turned away. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“It’s not,” I snapped, turning around just as he dropped his boxers and stepped into the shower. Looking over his shoulder to catch me staring, he started the water with one hand and beckoned me to him with the other. I almost took a step toward him before I stopped myself.
Maybe I am still drunk.
*
When I was halfway through my breakfast, Meyer dropped my cell phone on the table in front of me. I hadn’t seen it since I was taken over a week ago.
“Call whoever you wanna call.”
I made no move to grab it, sensing a trap. He corrected himself.
“Not your mom or the police, but your co-worker. You have thirty minutes.”
“You’re letting me do work?” My fork clinked gently against the plate as I set it down, then pushed the rest of my food away. This didn’t sit right.
“You went to the party and behaved yourself, more or less.” He nodded at the phone. “Call.”
I frowned. “It’s Sunday.”
“And I’m not wasting half an hour of my workday tomorrow monitoring your conversation.” He grabbed for the phone. “I don’t have to let you do anything at all.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call Caroline.” My fingers closed around the phone a moment before his, our skin brushing for the briefest second. I clutched the tiny rectangle to my chest, feeling comforted just by having it in my hand. I considered how long it would take me to fire off a text to my mother, father, anyone, but Meyer was already indicating I had to set it back down on the table.
Even though he was still being authoritarian, my heart softened toward him, just a little, just for a moment, and I hated it. He didn’t deserve any gratitude from me. He didn’t deserve sympathy for how obviously he had been lied to and brainwashed by his father. He didn’t deserve leniency for how he was treating me.
But in the midst of my depression and grief, I saw a different part of him. How he kept me clean and healthy and nourished when I felt unable to raise a fork to my mouth or turn on the shower. How he backed off the other day, despite his evident desire, and apologized—nearly—for what he did. He didn’t beat me. And now this, letting me work on my job that I missed so badly and continue to make an impact even from behind enemy lines.
I told myself it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. But another small part told me maybe, possibly, miraculously, it could.
I felt like I was losing my mind.
Caroline’s number came to me by memory, and I dialed as quickly as I could before I said anything I would regret. She answered almost instantly, voice screeching in the quiet room.
“Oh my God, Mads, I can’t believe it’s you! Are you okay? What the fuck is going on with you and Meyer Schaf? It’s all over the news today, and people have been—”
“She gets to call you Mads,” Meyer grumbled under his breath, but the look on his face was taunting. I glared at him as Caroline gasped.
“Is that him?”
I did not need her asking me more questions about this. “Don’t worry about it, Caroline. I can’t explain a lot right now. Just … get me caught up. What do you need from me?”
“Well, the Lily family hasn’t sent in their quarterly donation, and every time I call them, I have to leave a message, but they never get back to me.”
I’d dealt with that before. “You can’t call the number in their file; you need to talk to their daughter. Here’s what you do …”
We talked for half an hour exactly before Meyer reached over and hung up the phone, cutting me off midsentence. I snapped my mouth shut just as abruptly. As he turned off the phone and stuck it back in his pocket, the horror of my kidnapping and my depression from the past week came hurtling back to settle over me heavier than before.
“Do you feel better?”
I looked at him, then the remnants of my now-cold breakfast. The thought of eating more made me sick.
“No,” I whispered, looking out the window. Beyond the perfunctory backyard lawn was a mess of greenery, overgrown with wild blackberry bushes and other shrubberies and trees. Wild. I thought of the ways I could hide if I ever could get out there. “I wish I hadn’t talked to her at all.”
The reminder of everything I was missing was too strong. I missed being in our tiny, dark office—one of many in a building that provided low-rent spaces to nonprofits. I missed how the coffeemaker was so loud, you always knew when a fresh pot was brewed. I missed chatting with my co-workers between emails and complaining about difficult donors. I missed knowing I was helping people live better lives. There was no calling my mom after work to rant about a difficult donor or hitting the bar on payday to blow away half of my already minuscule paycheck on mai tais and margaritas with extra salt.
Instead, I was stuck here to settle some decades-old grudge between a monster and my mother. My captor was cruel and overpowering with just enough flashes of light and kindness to keep me off balance.
Worst of all, I was wholly engrossed with him. The small kindnesses like giving me my phone for half an hour, when he had no motivation to do so, or pulling me into the bed last night when I was so drunk I could hardly walk, were enough to draw my eyes to him whenever we were in the same room. Whenever he wasn’t around, I caught myself looking for him. I had let Anita lead me around last night, conscious that we were always moving away from him, but I kept looking back to make sure he was following.
It made my stomach roil. The feelings he stirred up in me were too overwhelming, too at odds with what I knew of him. I’d never been one to doubt myself, but being around Meyer made me second-guess every decision, every emotion.
When I looked back at him, he was studying me from across the table. His fingers were tented under his chin.
“You look like a supervillain.” Why would I say that? It was flirting. I shouldn’t be giving him anything. He was destroying my life, but all I wanted to do was please him. Tease out that elusive grin.
He opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself short. There was a noise outside like a large truck pulling up. His face contorted into a scowl, but something about it seemed forced.
“Fucking great,” he muttered, walking toward the door. Bounding after him, I slipped into the sandals Anita had left behind, grateful he hadn’t hidden them, and followed him outside. The day was so glorious, I didn’t even mind the way the sunlight aggravated my headache. Across the lawn, a trailer had pulled up to the stables. And walking out was the most beautiful dapple gray horse.
“You slipped one by me,” he muttered. I just stood staring.
“What are you talking about?”
“You wrote down my name on a hundred silent auction items last night. I thought I crossed them all out. Guess not.”
I started to run toward the stable, but he grabbed my arm and yanked me back.
“I don’t want to deal with a broken foot. Go back inside and get some proper shoes.”
“I don’t have any proper shoes.”
“Your sneakers are on the shelf in my closet.”
I didn’t stop to ask, just ran back inside and pulled on my running shoes as quickly as I could manage. When I got back outside, he was already almost to the stable. I sprinted to catch up with him.
“You really got this for me?”
“I didn’t get you anything. You spent my money like it was nothing.”
“You spend your money like it’s nothing.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s my money.”
I ignored him, trotting down the long hallway to the stall that now held the horse. Men in cowboy boots were unloading tack and saddlery items, along with food and straw, and setting th
em on the wall next to it. I stepped into the stall where an older gentleman with a wiry white beard was brushing down the horse.
“Be careful,” Meyer called, but I had already closed the stall door behind me.
The man turned and smiled at us. “Are you Her Majesty’s new owners?”
“I am,” Meyer and I both said at the same time. He glared at me, but I ignored him. “Is that her name?”
“Sure is, young lady. Of course you can choose something else if you’d like. I doubt she’d mind.”
I approached the beast slowly, holding out my hands for her to smell. She pushed her nose against my palms. Her muzzle was like silk.
“She’s a feisty one, so be careful when you saddle her up. You’ll want to give her a few days to acclimate first.”
I nodded, having no intention of ever making her carry me. She lifted her head and looked behind me at Meyer. I turned to face him as well, not caring about the stupid grin he was surely going to mock.
He smiled back at me, just for a second.
“Have you ever cared for a horse before?”
I turned back to the man beside me and tried to pay attention as he walked me through the basic care functions I would now have to undertake. Meyer interjected, saying he’d hire someone, but I ignored him. I wanted to know everything. I’d been obsessed with horses as a child, like many young girls, playing with secondhand dolls and toy horses in lieu of doing homework or watching TV. And now I had a real-life horse, thanks to the man who had promised over and over to destroy me.
What could have possessed someone who didn’t show any emotion other than disdain or aggression to do this for me?
When the movers finally packed up and left, I spent some time in the stall with Her Majesty until she settled down in a pile of hay to take a nap. I guessed that moving house was pretty exhausting even for horses. When I left the stall, Meyer was standing against the opposite wall.
“Don’t you want to meet her?”
He snorted in derision. “Not even a little. Can we go back inside?”
“You can do whatever you want. You don’t have to babysit me.”
He threw his hands in the air. “You do need babysitting, though. I let you run free last night, and you bought a fucking horse.”
Something tugged at my memory. “No, I didn’t.”
He gestured back toward the mare. “Is that not a horse back there?”
I walked up to him slowly, pursing my lips. “You told me you canceled everything.”
His eyes rolled back in his head. “Obviously, I missed one.”
I thought about that. It was possible. There was a lot of stuff up for auction last night. But that didn’t explain all the equipment that came along with it. Saddle, reins, blankets, eye masks, bales of hay, and bags of food …
“Most people who bid on horses at auctions already have everything they need to care for one. Where did all this equipment come from?” He would have had to tell someone we would need it.
He rubbed his upper lip. There was a shadow over it, the lightest facial hair I’d ever seen. It was barely darker than his hair. “I don’t know, Madeline, it must have been part of the deal.” He turned to walk away, but I grabbed his elbow. He stopped, turning to look at my hand with agonizing slowness. His eyes traced up my arm, landing on my face. I swallowed, suddenly feeling I was making a mistake. I spoke anyway.
“I don’t believe you.” It came out as a whisper.
He turned around, shaking off my hand, but then moved closer until we were toe to toe and walked me back against the wall. His hands were on either side of my head, trapping me, and I felt another memory tug. My fingers flew to the pulse on my neck. His eyes lingered there.
“What are you saying, Mads?”
He slid one hand down my shoulder, then up my arm until he could slip his fingers underneath mine to touch my neck. His skin was still so cool, even in the heat of the barn. I could feel my heart stuttering in my chest. He looked at me with unfettered longing, something covetous beneath the angry veneer that had coated him a moment ago. He pulled my hand to his mouth and bit my fingers. I gasped.
“You think I did something … nice for you?”
Without warning, he bit down harder, and I yanked my fingers back.
“You cut me.” I couldn’t believe it. There was actually blood welling on my knuckles.
He took my head in my hands, not in any grand romantic gesture but just forcing me to look at him. My headache, previously forgotten in the excitement, resurged with a vengeance. Behind us, the horse nickered softly.
“I’m not nice, Mads. I’m truly sorry if I gave you that impression because you shouldn’t expect anything from me.”
It was a struggle to swallow, but I forced out the words. “You were last night. You were kind to me. I know it.”
Hair fell into his face as he shook his head. “You had an alcohol-fueled dream that your brain cooked up to try to comfort you.”
“You let me sleep in the bed.”
He released me, not simply letting go but pushing my head away from him. I bumped the wall behind me.
“You climbed in there, and I couldn’t be bothered getting you out. Next time, I’ll just shove you to the floor to avoid having this asinine discussion.” He turned on his heel and started walking, his back straighter than normal as if he were trying to make a point with his posture.
“Don’t walk away from me!” My voice came out louder than intended. He stopped for a moment, then resumed walking at a brisker pace.
That meant something. I knew it. If he were really angry, he would have come back here to yell at me for giving him an order. Instead, he was running away. I’d uncovered the fact that he had done something kind for me, a truly selfless gesture, and he couldn’t convince me otherwise.
“Will you just stop for a second?”
He paused at the entrance, the light filtering in through dust and pollen to bathe him in an ethereal glow. He was so handsome; I caught my breath for a second.
This was insane. The very definition of it. Open the dictionary, and you’d find a picture of me, staring at this man who was doing everything he could to cause me pain and hoping he would pay more attention to me.
I had to get him to say this. To admit he was willing to do something for the sole purpose of pleasing me.
If I could break past that barrier and make him confess, maybe things could be better.
I walked toward him, resolute, and he watched me with mild interest. When I got closer, though, I saw how his eyes actively scanned my face and body language, trying to predict me. He almost looked apprehensive as if he thought I was going to strike him. As if there was anything I could do that would hurt him.
Somewhere outside, a car door slammed.
His hands came up to cup my cheeks, and he brought his face toward mine. Again, I turned at the last second, but we were so close it wouldn’t take more than the slightest movement from either of us to bring our lips together. I breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of dirt and hay and sunlight and him, walking me back until I hit the wall of the barn once more. One of his knees slipped between my legs to rub against my core, and my fingers slipped into his hair.
“What would you say if I did drag you into bed with me, Mads?” I twisted to avoid his lips, but they found me anyway, placing kisses on my cheek, the corner of my lips, and the side of my neck. “What would it mean if I said I wanted you like I’ve never wanted anything in my life?”
There were voices. Loud voices, arguing.
“We should see what that is.” I gasped, wishing for space. What had I intended when I started this argument? It wasn’t to end up pinned against a wall, our lips inches apart, my mind moments away from giving him my lips. It wasn’t feeling. It wasn’t this.
“The only thing that interests me is right here.” He bit my earlobe, tugging gently, then kissed the space behind my ear. “You were the one who wanted to have this out.”
“Why do you
want me? Is it because you’ve been told you’re entitled to me?”
His forehead thudded against the wood next to my head, our cheeks pressed together. When he spoke, his breath was warm on my neck. “I may own you, Madeline, but I don’t know if you’ll ever be kept.”
I gasped and turned toward him, lips brushing his cheek as he lifted his head to meet my eyes. Did he really believe that?
“Then let me leave, Meyer. Allow me to live my life. Don’t keep me here as a prisoner.”
He laughed and shook his head, stepping back and pulling me away from the wall. “That can’t happen, Mads, and I wish you’d stop asking.” We propelled into the sunlight together, squinting as our eyes adjusted to the bright light. The voices were louder now. I focused on the distance. Standing near the house, arguing loudly with Joshua and some other security I didn’t recognize, were my parents.
I wrenched my arm from his grip and ran.
Meyer
Madeline took off across the grass, faster than I had ever seen her move. I didn’t even realize at first, still dazed from the looks she’d given me, that it was Eva. Her mother. She must have seen Madeline at the same time I recognized her.
We both broke for Madeline at the same time.
I reached her just a moment before, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her away as her mother’s arms reached to grab her, hug her, steal her back. Joshua had Eva a moment later, pulling her arms behind her body. Madeline kicked and screamed as I lifted her off the ground. I tried to keep us both upright as I lurched toward the house, but she threw everything she had into her fight.
“Let me go!” I could hear the tears in her voice as she strained back toward her mother, her father now trying to overtake us only to be torn down by two more security. I didn’t waste my breath with words; there was no point in it anyway. There was nothing I could say to her now that would make this better.
