A Kiss Stolen

by Georgia Le Carre

  I smile at her choice of words. Take me by force. Well, well, what an interesting thought. Still … “No, I’m not going to do that. I want your total and complete obedience. I want you to open your legs when I tell you to, and suck my cock when I need relief.”

  I say nothing and she makes her declaration. “I’ll kill myself before I let myself become your fuck toy.”

  I think of the crudest thing I can say. “That’s okay.” I flash a sick smile. “I’ll just fuck your corpse. I don’t need you alive to enjoy your body.”

  Tears pool in her eyes, and for the first time she seems fragile and vulnerable. It doesn’t last long though. She straightens her spine and furrows her eyebrows even deeper. “Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you? I don’t even know you. Have you thought you might have the wrong girl?”

  “The wrong girl? That’s funny,” I sneer, a laugh rolling out of me.

  “You’re mad,” she snarls.

  “I am,” I respond. “So you better not test me. Make the call, now.”

  Chapter Five

  Liliana

  Turning my gaze to the phone in my hand, I wonder if I will even be able to use it. I cannot even feel it anymore.

  Somehow, I find myself dialing the only number I know by heart and only because my father made all his children learn it by heart so we could call him even if we didn’t have our cellphones. I lift the phone to my ear as it begins to ring. It is answered immediately and my dad’s voice rushes into my ear.

  “Hello,” he barks urgently. He must know it is me, because no one except our family members have this number.

  I take a shaky breath before I speak. “Daddy,” I say, and it is unbelievably difficult to keep my voice from breaking down and begging him to fix everything for me, the way he has always done. For all of us.

  “Where the hell are you? It’s almost four in the morning and you’re not back at your apartment. The last time you were spotted was at a bar.” His voice sounds very quiet, which usually means he is furious, but strangely I feel that underneath the veneer of rage he is terrified out of his mind at the thought of what might have happened to me.

  I swallow and speak carefully. “You fixed it for me at Osborne and Nesbit, didn't you?” I accuse. “That's why they accepted me.”

  For a few seconds there is dead silence, then he fires back, his voice incredulous, “And so what? What has that got to do with you disappearing for hours?”

  The tears fall from my eyes then for the parents who love me so, so dearly that they would do anything for me. Both of them must think I am so selfish to disappear without a word for something so stupid. I square my shoulders. Let them think whatever they want of me, my remit is clear. I will protect my father with everything I have. My voice breaks as I speak. “I told you I wanted to try to make it for myself, and now you’ve gone and ruined it all.”

  “All I did was get you in,” he bites out. “What happens afterwards and how far you go is all up to you.”

  “That’s not true, not anymore. What happens now and how far I will go will all depend on your name, and not me,” I pretend to yell.

  “Liliana,” he calls, “Where are you?”

  “They kept hounding me,” I babble, “because they know I am your daughter. All I wanted was a few months working as myself and you’ve spoilt that for me.”

  “Liliana what is the matter with you?” he asks, his voice sounds strangely desperate. I’ve never heard him sound so.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes and sniff miserably. “I’ve left the apartment. I need to think and clear my head. I’ll be back after my birthday.”

  “After your birthday?” he echoes in disbelief. “Don’t you want to come home for your birthday? Even if you are angry with me, don’t you want to see Mum? Your sister and your brothers?”

  Even the mention of Mum makes me feel panicky and frightened. What if she has another breakdown? I try to speak, but I can’t. My throat feels choked.

  “Liliana, are you still there?”

  “Is Mum there, Dad?”

  “No, she’s at home, out of her mind with worry. I’m in London looking for you.”

  “Oh, Dad,” I sob.

  “Where the hell are you, Liliana?” Dad demands suddenly.

  My heart jumps in my chest. When I was young, I used to tell the most terrible lies, but when I was ten years old after I told a lie that almost caused Dad’s horse to die, my father made me promise that I would never lie to him again. No matter what he wanted the truth from me. From that moment onwards I have never lied to him. “Spain,” I whisper.

  He flares up. “Hell, Liliana. How dare you leave the country without informing me? Have you no thought at all for your own safety?”

  “I need the time away, Dad. I need to think about what I want to do with my future. I’ll call you again in a few days. Since you are in London can you go over to my apartment and pick up Moose. I couldn’t bring him, so he’s all alone in the house with no food or water. I know Mum won’t mind taking care of him until I get back. He’s missing Mum anyway.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “I’ve already been to your apartment. Moose is waiting in my car now,” he says quietly, with not even a trace of reproach in his voice.

  Relief floods through me. Thank God, Moose is not without food or water. “I’m really sorry, Dad ... but for once just let me do things my way.”

  “Whose number is this?” he asks suddenly.

  My gaze flutters over to my captor’s. He is staring at me his face, cold and unemotional. “Just someone I met.”

  “Where is your phone?”

  “The battery died and I didn’t bring my charger. Please don’t try to track me, Dad. I brought cash with me so I won’t be using any of my cards.”

  “What is going on, Liliana? You’re smarter than this. Tell me exactly where you are and I’ll fly down and get you,” he says so quickly his words join together. It is as if he realizes that our call is coming to an end and he is panicking.

  “I love you Dad with all my heart and I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, more than you will ever know, but please, allow me to have this little time to myself. I’ll never ask for anything else again. Please tell Mum that I love her very, very much too, and not to worry about me, because I’m just fine. I just need a bit of time to think. I’ll try to call her in a few days. Bye, Daddy.” With that I disconnect the call and my hands fall to my sides.

  An applause awaits me as I return to the nightmare of my new reality. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he says. “I always knew you were brilliant.”

  The phone starts ringing again and I don’t even have to look to know it is my dad calling back. I throw the phone on the bed and look straight at him. “What now?”

  He walks towards me, his stride unhurried, but with such menace and threat that I react without conscious thought. My leg takes a sideways step and my other leg follows. My legs are retreating of their own accord. The nearer he gets the quicker my legs move. Until my back connects with a wall. He smiles then, a crooked, glorious upturn of one corner of his lips that it surprisingly makes an unfamiliar thrill of desire run down my spine.

  Oh God! I am losing my mind.

  This is totally insane. I have never lusted after any man before. How could I possibly feel this way in the frightening situation I am in? The only thing I can think of to even remotely begin to explain my reaction would be the heightened emotions of terror, shock, and confusion I have endured in the last few hours.

  He picks up the ringing phone and returns his gaze back to mine. We stare at each other as he raises the phone above his head. His eyes seem to turn even darker, and I see then; he detests me wholeheartedly. With every cell in his being he loathes me. His lips twist into a sneer and I know he is seething, but what for exactly I am not sure. He moves his hand back, and both mine rush up instinctively to cover my face. A thin scream of terror bursts from my throat as the phone slams into the wall just besid
e my head. It smashes into pieces and falls to the floor. My heart pounds in my chest. I don’t dare move.

  “Now,” he says quietly. “You’ll wait until I am ready to use you.” He turns away and walks out of the room.

  Chapter Six

  Jake Eden

  The line goes dead in my ear. My mind runs like wildfire, I redial the number, but it just rings and rings. “Pick up, pick up,” I urge desperately. I kill the call. I know she is not going to answer. I send a text. I tell her to call me back. We have code in our family. If ever anyone is in a position where they have been kidnapped or being held hostage they just have to say one sentence. I made all my children practice it again and again from the time they were old enough to speak.

  Dad, I forgot to feed the dog. Can you feed it for me?

  She didn’t say those words. I gave her more than one opportunity to say it. And yet I know my gut is vibrating with instinct. I know something is wrong. Very wrong. I take out my other cellphone and call Lily.

  She answers immediately. “Did you find her?” she asks, her voice so full of desperation my heart breaks. I remember another time. Her face, white, sweaty, and savage, looking up at me from the bathroom floor. “I lost our baby,” she whispered brokenly.

  I inject enthusiasm into my voice. “Yeah, she called.”

  “Oh God. Thank God. Oh, Jake, Oh God, I’ve been so worried. Thank God.”

  “Have they found Lil, Mum?” I hear my second daughter, Laura ask.

  “Yes, yes, Dad found her,” my wife says with a joyful, nervous laugh.

  I close my eyes. My fist is clenched so hard I can feel the veins on my forearm popping. In the background, I hear Laura shout with relief. She says something I can’t make out then my two sons join in the celebrations.

  “Jake, are you bringing her back with you?” my wife asks.

  “Well, I don’t have her with me,” I say evenly.

  I feel the mood switch. “What do you mean?”

  “Liliana is in Spain.”

  “What?”

  “She was so upset I had spoken with Nesbit and asked him to consider her for the internship that she took off in a temper to Spain, but she must have come to her senses and called me to say she just wants some time to think things out on her own.” Even to my own ears my explanation sounded like bullshit.

  “Jake, are you lying to me?”

  “No,” I respond immediately. I imagine her standing in our kitchen, the phone clenched in her hand. In the background my other children have stopped celebrating.

  “Then I don’t understand,” she whispers. “Liliana went off to Spain without telling any of us because she was mad at you for putting in a good word in Nesbit’s ear, is that what you are saying?”

  “Yes, that’s what she told me.”

  “I don’t believe her. Do you?”

  I stay silent.

  “Give me her number. I want to call her,” she demands, the fire coming back into her voice.

  “What’s going on, Mum,” Caleb, our older twin asks.

  She ignores him. “Jake, are you still there?”

  I exhale slowly. “Darling, you can’t call her. She doesn’t want us to contact her. She wants a bit of time to think about her future, but she promised to call again soon.”

  “What about Moose? Did she take him?”

  “No,” I mutter. “She asked me to pick him up and bring him home.”

  “Jake, this is not how Liliana behaves. Something is wrong. I know something is wrong and I know you know it too. You’re just not telling me.” She starts sobbing.

  “Lily, you have to stay strong. For Liliana’s sake you have to. Whatever it is I will get to the bottom of it. I will find her and bring her back home. Do you hear me?”

  She doesn’t answer. Just carries on sobbing. I end the call, and suddenly the past flashes into my mind. I remember the first time I saw her. Oh, sweet baby Jesus, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven then. She was so damn beautiful.

  Slowly, I unclench my hand and the blood rushes into my palm. I lift my head and look up at the night sky. “Where are you Liliana?” I whisper. The only thing I know for sure is: she is not in fucking Spain.

  I make my promise then.

  “I will find you if it is the last thing I do,” I say to the dark moonless sky.

  Chapter Seven

  Liliana

  For the next few hours I remain in the corner where he left me, crouched on the floor, my arms hugging my knees. The sun rises, filling the room with its pale light. Eventually, there are footsteps outside. More than one person is approaching. So, there are other people in this house. If I play my cards right, they could help me escape. I lift my head as the door is flung open.

  A large man and a woman look down at me.

  The woman looks to be in her mid-fifties. She is wearing a plain dark-blue dress and has a confident erect bearing. If I had to guess I would say she is the housekeeper. Even though her face is stern, her eyes are incredibly kind.

  The man beside her is as brutish as a bull with thick shoulders, a low brow, and a military haircut. There is a blank expression in his narrow set eyes. I spot the gun he wears under his badly cut suit.

  I rise on wobbly legs and focus my attention on her. “I’m here against my free will,” I say in a shaky voice. “I’ve been kidnapped. I’m a prisoner here. Please, please, can you help me escape?”

  The man snorts with laughter. A horrible sound.

  The woman gives him a dirty look before walking up to me and smiling kindly. “You’re not a prisoner, Lass. You’re a guest in this house. I’m Mrs. Parks, the housekeeper, and I’m here to move you over to the main wing. There is a much better room set up for you there. Please come with me.”

  For a moment, I think about refusing or insisting I be set free, but it is clear that would be a pointless exercise. She wants to pretend I am a guest. Better if I follow her and find out as much as I can about where I am being held. Perhaps I can try and make friends with her and eventually persuade her to help me.

  I expect them to blindfold me as they lead me away, or at least bind me up in some way, but I walk deceptively free out of the room. As if I truly am a guest.

  We pass down corridors, and through open doors I see lavish rooms. As we approach an intersection with large windows I see that we are right in the middle of moorland. The windswept scenery is breathtakingly beautiful, but it also looks like we are very isolated in the harsh wilderness. There doesn’t look to be another building as far as the eye can see. When we turn the corner though, I spot what looks like a farmhouse next to a lake in the distance. There is smoke coming out of its chimney. I file away that information and an escape plan begins to hatch in my head.

  We enter the adjoining wing and it is almost as though I have stepped into a different world. The main house cannot be described as anything but palatial. Tall ceilings full of frescos, massive chandeliers, tapestries, gilded paintings, pillars, and gorgeous milky statues.

  He had not been joking when he said that he had his own money. Which made the notion of my kidnap as some kind of revenge staggeringly baffling. Why would anyone with this kind of money hold a vendetta against me? I have done absolutely nothing wrong to anyone. I have barely even begun my life.

  There is only one explanation: I am not the intended target.

  Even though the hate I had seen my captor’s eyes was clearly very much personal and directed at me, my capture had to be something to do with hurting my father. Even as a child I was already aware my father was unlike any of the other kids’ mild-mannered fathers. Dad’s circle and influence ran dark and deep. In all the high value dealings he has had over the years he’s almost definitely gained many an enemy. It makes perfect sense. Attacking me is more brutal than going directly for my father.

  We tread through galleried corridors, pass three massive lounges, a sun-drenched breakfast room, and eventually arrive at a foyer dominated by a gigantic chandelier. I come to an abrupt
standstill. How absolutely bizarre. The whole place is uncannily similar to the one at my father’s home. Down to the heavy centerpiece of tulips on a black granite stand. I look around me in a daze as we move toward the grand black marble staircase.

  Mrs. Parks climbs the stairs and I follow. The bull stays behind me, a very permanent scowl etched into his face. The curving staircase takes us to a landing with a massive stained glass window. A short walk down a red-carpeted corridor and Mrs. Parks stops and turns towards me.

  “This will be your bedroom.” She opens the door in front of her and looks at me expectantly.

  At this point the bull-like man turns around to take his leave as though his work of escorting us has been completed as I step into the room.

  “Isn’t it nice?” Mrs. Parks asks cheerfully from behind me.

  The room is impeccably decorated in rich shades of forest green, teal, peacock blue, and accents of burnished gold. It is obviously the work of a very talented designer. The walls are covered in luxury wallpaper and the curtains are emerald green and gold brocade. An intricately carved bed sits on, what seems to be, a luxurious cream silk carpet.

  “What would you like for breakfast, lass?” Mrs. Parks asks. “I dare say I could rustle up anything you desire.”

  I turn to her in confusion. This is not how a kidnapped victim should be treated. “I have been drugged and kidnapped and brought here against my will. Why am I being served as if I am a guest?”

  I see pity in her eyes before she masks it. “He isn’t as bad as you think. Just be patient and all will be well,” she whispers softly. “I’ll send up a tray with a selection of dishes.” Then she turns around and takes her leave.

  The door is shut and locked behind her.

  For how long I stare at it, I don’t know, but eventually, I push aside the turmoil in my head and go in search of the bathroom. A painful bump of my head hitting the tiled wall jerks me awake. Incredible, but I fell asleep on the toilet seat. It must be a lingering effect of the drug. I shake my head to push away the last webs of sleep, and think about taking a shower. It would wake me up and make me feel less filthy.