by Celia Crown
I’m a hypocrite; I say that I want to be kind to her, but when she looks at me with so much appreciation, I want to be anything but kind.
Making her rely on me while slowly stripping away her independence seems to be the common goal that my heart and brain are working towards.
In due time, in due time.
“I really thought you were going to either make me work as a slave or sell me off…” she murmurs, “You wouldn’t, right?”
“No, I would never,” I say.
The status of Malia is the one above mine. Everyone will treat her as if she is the Queen; she will be someone that I will make sure people hold to a standard that is higher than mine.
Selling her off, on the other hand, would be an insult to me. I may be a sadist in terms of my own pleasure, but Malia can never be away from me. Selling her off to human traffickers is a laughable suggestion; she is stuck with me under lock and key.
The key is hidden deep within my heart where it’s broken in half to ensure that she cannot leave.
“I-I can be your… companion, but what about—”
I press a finger to her lips, mesmerized by the softness and the sweet shock in her eyes.
“It is late. We must retreat back to my manor.”
France tends to be cooler in the night, and her dress does not allow warmth to be contained. I would hate for her to catch a cold. Well, that would mean that I can take care of her while she is bedridden in our master bedroom.
She can’t leave then.
“Manor…?” Malia repeats with wide eyes, “I’m not going home?”
This will be her home. As for her own home in the States, it will be gone with a simple command from me. She will never return to that place with her friend, Katerina, as I know that woman still hasn’t given up her search for the perfect man as rumor has claimed.
I do not wish to allow another man’s eyes on her. They might instantly get attached to her as I did.
Her beauty is addictive to look at, and the fiery red hair is as soft as it looked.
“No, my love, you are not going home.”
Not now and not ever.
Chapter Three
Malia
Okay, I need a plan of escape.
First, it needs to happen at the dead of the night because I can’t estimate how late Mr. Hawkins sleeps. Anything can happen if he were to catch me sneaking out of his expensive manor. I bet there is security in his room that alarms him if there is an intruder that got through the first layer of his security.
I have to be quick to decide which route is the best escape window so I can launch myself out without having to face his security team. I can only imagine how buff and scary they need to be in order to protect him and his fine arts that he hangs on his walls.
That’s how far my plan got before Mr. Hawkins suspected something was wrong; my silence is his cue to assume that I’m planning something in my head as he peers at me when I wave him goodnight.
I close the door and breathe silently.
We had finished dinner, and may I add, it’s a flurry of dance on my tongue because I didn’t know where to begin to describe the number of rich flavors that mingle together perfectly.
The chef has my fullest support for opening a restaurant; it’s going to be a success as I will be their regular customer.
After dinner, we went on a walk in his garden; it’s a maze filled with bushes and dead ends that will lose me in the sights of security cameras. He warned me to never go in there because I will get lost and who knows what is trapped in there from the time it was built.
He says that a wild boar is possible, and I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at the joke or he was laughing at the paleness of my face.
I choose to believe he’s laughing at my face because a boar in the country of love and good food, it’s not a thing to have wild animals running around.
I might be wrong, but I hope not as I gaze out of the balcony door.
It’s another escape route that I can use. My eyes start from the entrance and follow the exposed aerial view of the maze; I map out the route that I could use, and sometimes I would get lost or into a dead end, but I won’t give up until I find a place that is suitable for escape.
I let out a breath of relief when I realize that there is an end to all of this madness. The exit is at the end, and I can’t see that far as to what lies beyond the mass of green, but it’s the only one with no greener bushes stopping its way.
I didn’t have to wait long for the night to turn dark; France’s summer is not as brutal as the Southern cities of the United States, and it doesn’t get as hot as Miami or Arizona.
Nonetheless, summer is summer. It gets hot on some days, but generally, it is acceptable considering I don’t do well in the heat. Humid air is my kryptonite, and it’s why I prefer not to go to vacation places near the equator.
Katerina was born in Russia, so her ability to withstand the cold is immense, but she loves the hot weather and is always dragging me to the hottest places on the planet just because she wants to be tanned.
I suggested that she could get the safest tanning bed with her kind of money, but she looked at me as if I was stupid because tanning beds don’t have Vitamin D and she needs all of it since she’s so pale.
Maybe it’s because she’s grown up in a place as cold as Russia that she feels that she’s missing out on a lot.
I’d say it’s not much, but I have never been a girl of the summer times.
Watching the night turn darker, I find that this is the best time to put the escape plan to use.
Without lights to guide me, I can only rely on the walls and my memories of this place when Mr. Hawkins had guided me to the bedroom.
I didn’t even have time to look around the fancy room; it’s so beautiful that I just simply looked passed it. I can’t imagine myself being surrounded by beautiful things constantly, but then Katerina is the most beautiful woman I have seen, and she is attached to my hips.
It’s weird that she would leave me here by myself with Mr. Hawkins as my guardian.
I’m surprised that I didn’t trigger an alarm when I accidentally knock crooked the painting on the wall, but I managed to straighten it and find my way outside. It’s the back where the maze is, and it’s exactly what I need as I take in a deep breath.
Finding my nerves, I square my shoulders and look behind me at the open door that leads to a massively dark hallway where I had stumbled through.
From this view, it’s scarier than I expected, but it’s too late to back down now.
I quickly use the half-run and half-jog to make it across the green field like I’m trying to walk faster to cross the street with a car waiting to turn.
I always hated those because it’s so awkward for the driver and the pedestrian.
Weaving through the confusing maze, I rely on my memories that I had mapped out when I was in the room. It’s a gorgeous maze with every bush and branch trimmed to perfection. Not a single green leaf is out of place in this maze, and it’s too eerily quiet; my heart is racing with fear at the unknown that lurks in the darkness.
I turned a sharp corner, and a branch cuts me across the finger when I fight the pokes that are jabbed into my face.
“Okay, you can do this,” I motivate myself as I come to a split route; my mind tries to think back as to where I am.
I don’t see anything in my mind that can help me, and my throat constricts. I’m lost, and I nearly see blackness with the help of the moon. Every little noise cut at my thumping heart as I pick on the side and hope to god that it’s the right one.
No one would hear me in the dead of the night if I scream, and who knows what I’ll attract with a bloody scream.
I brace myself for a dead end because I know my luck and it’s never been good to me, and it still surprises when it’s really a dead end.
I groan in the back of my throat with my head tilted up to the sky. I want to scream as it’s not the result that I want.
I was hoping I would see the end of this endless maze and see the lights of the city where I can just flag down a cab, and I don’t care how much it’ll cost because I just want to get to the airport and call Katerina.
I was going to tell her that she’s been demoted to just a friend for throwing me into the lion’s den without gladiator equipment, but I also need her to get.
As I turn back and walk out of the dead-end to where I stood before, I decide that the other direction is the only other option I can have without turning back to the beginning and getting lost somewhere even further.
There is a noise at the back of the darkness, and it sounded like a snort.
Odd, my brain slowly says.
I shiver at the cold and wrap my arms around my body to bring warmth to me, but I feel as if the cold is coming from a pair of animalistic eyes that’s boring holes into me. That is something I imagine because nothing in near me and my ears would have picked up noises from the branches being snapped under weights.
Another snort comes, and I know I’m not imagining it.
I slowly turn my head to see what it is, but I also need to prepare to run if anything happens to be right behind me. I’m not one of the people in movies where I’m going to investigate what made the noise; they're usually the first one to die, and I would rather not end up like them.
My eyes meet a shape too small to be a human, and it’s not even human when I fully register what the heck it is. It’s a rounder shape on four short legs, but that’s all I can tell.
A snort jolts the body, and I suddenly have a clear idea.
It’s a boar.
It’s a freaking boar in the middle of a maze owned by multi-billionaire Mr. Hawkins in a rich neighborhood of France.
How is this possible? I thought rich people have more security than the government. So, how is a boar right behind me with the intention of chewing me alive?
I don’t want to know the answer, and my legs are pounding on the uneven ground into the other direction, which I know isn’t a dead end.
I hope so. I really hope so because I need to outrun a boar. I can’t just jump over the tall bushes or run through them. I’ll get tangled up, and when the boar catches up to me, I’ll be eaten one way or another.
As a cliché moment, I trip and fall on my face.
I scramble up and scrape my knees on the ground for purchase as the snorting comes closer with the thunderous footsteps of the boar. I press my back against the rough, dense bushes that the maze is made up of. A silent prayer is sent to whoever can save me as my voice is stuck in my throat when the boar runs closer.
I swear I can see smoke coming out of its nose, and the anxiety in my tummy growls with the urge to cry.
A stray tear runs down my cheek as I sniff; defeat eating at me as I brace for the impact.
The scream of a bird comes above me, and my eyes snap up to watch a hawk diving down with its claws digging into the back of the boar. A round of screeching and squealing mingles as the two animals battle one another, but the hawk has an advantage considering its claws are sharp and it has the benefit of wings to fly up when the boar tries to attack.
As majestic as it looks, the hawk wins, and I’m probably its target next.
Another sound from the rustling bushes catches my attention, and whatever animal is coming next, I hope it can defeat a hawk. However, I don’t want it to be too big that I can’t outrun it. Survival is my only goal right now, and the hawk is a definite downfall of mine if I’m not careful.
I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, but it does.
Mr. Kace Hawkins is the one that comes through the bushes.
On the one hand, I'm glad that it’s him and it means that I can get out of this hellhole. The bad thing is that I need to explain why I’m in this place, and I’m not good at lying.
By now, I’m sobbing my heart out because I’m so scared. I don’t care if he’s disappointed in me for escaping, I just need to get out of here so that I’m okay for the night.
I’m going to live to see the morning sunlight, and I’ll never take that for granted again, especially not when it’s my morning classes that call for me.
“My love,” Mr. Hawkins sighs, and my heart drops at his tone, “Why did you have to do that?”
I can’t answer him with a choked sob while sitting on the ground. My legs are too shaky, and my arms are the only thing that’s holding me up.
The bushes behind me dig into my back as I whimper loudly, “I-I’m sorry.”
“Why will you not let me take care of you?” he asks, slipping his hands under my arms and lifting me up into his arms.
He can take care of me all he likes, but I don’t want him to get poison ivy if I have it on my back from the bushes.
“Since you cannot be left alone, I will be the one to look after you before you hurt yourself even more.”
Whatever he means, I’ll take that as punishment over him being disappointed in me. I didn't really mean to cause him trouble, and I didn’t expect the hawk to be my rescuer, but Mr. Hawkins is a billionaire with more resources than the government.
I doubt he only has one hawk at his disposal.
I watch the hawk fly into the sky and around the summer air; it dives back down and flies along with us.
My heart doesn’t reduce its beating motion; it becomes more adamant about letting him hear how scared I was as I secure my arms over his neck and legs around his waist.
I’ll deal with the consequences later as his big hand soothes my trembling muscles.
Then my vision goes black.
It’s dark for long because I’m waking up on something very warm and very hard, but it smells too good to be my bed.
I purse my lips around something, and I bite on it; it’s a bit salty and something indescribable as I mewl softly from the good night sleep. I haven’t had one in a while since Katerina is always dragging me off to who knows where, and it’s always in the morning when no one is awake yet.
I try to wet my lips, but I end up tasting the saltiness again as I hum into my sleep.
The bed is harder than I remember, but it could be that my body is sensitive right now. My body gets weak and sensitive when my menstrual cycle comes close; it’s a warning system for me while some people have back pain to tell them that a week of pain is coming so brace for the impact.
I grope my bed, and it echoes a chuckle, and that is not something a bed should make. Also, Katerina does not giggle; she does that really high-class smile when she is amused. If she lowered her inhibition, then it would be a slight giggle, but never a dark, masculine chuckle that sends shivers down my toes.
I try to wrap my head around what is happening; there is so much stimulation going on. Hands are coming up and down my back while the thumping heartbeat aligning with my own heart is strong as I flicked my tongue out again to try and find out what the heck is on my bed.
The vibration under my fingers leads to a mop of soft hair, and it can’t be mine. I have fried horse hair from all the hot ironing in my hair Katerina had told me that she couldn’t help my hair when it’s the morning.
Crazy bird’s nest will remain a bird’s nest until it is acted upon by the forces of hairspray and willpower.
My eyes crack open, and I groan at the morning light as I duck my face into the bed. It’s elevated and quite awkward now that I really think about it, but it’s strangely comfortable as I rub my forehead at the odd angle.
“Good morning, my love.”
My muscles seize in shock as the voice startles me; my heart lunges against my ribs as I choke a gasp when I scramble up from the bed.
First of all, it’s not a bed. It’s the hard, older, and muscular body of Mr. Hawkins. And, second, this is not my room which is decorated with Christmas fairy lights. It’s a room with high ceilings and rich gold colors; the bed itself is massive in ways that it can fit ten people with no problem.
“W-what—Mr. Hawkins?” I shriek loudly, unable to be
lieve my eyes as I’m gifted with a sight to behold.
Black hair is messily tossed on the whites of his pillow, his forest green eyes glisten in mirth, and his body is completely naked with a swirl of intricate tattoos lined up in front of my eyes as I sit on his stomach.
His rock-hard stomach! The man has enviable abs, and it’s going to take more than a cheeseburger to make him bloated, unlike me.
“My love, you must call me Kace,” he smiles with gloriousness, “After all, we have slept together.”
“Formality is unnecessary,” he adds, and I think that was unnecessary.
My eyes drop from his chest to my body, and I’m clothed in his clothes. Mine aren’t this big and this loose, and they smell of him and his fancy detergent too. I touch my chest and wiggle on his stomach to determine that my bra and panties are still on; that is a grateful thing to wake up in the morning for.
“W-what do you mean we slept together? I remember yesterday—” biting my tongue, I stop talking as I don’t need to remind him of what transpired yesterday.
He doesn’t need to ask why I was there and thank goodness he doesn’t; he lets me have my dignity with the both of us knowing that what I did yesterday was a mistake and I will never do it again.
Then my eyes zero in on his neck, which I have been nibbling and licking like a dog with a bone. Oh my god, this is so embarrassing as the dark mark on his neck is more apparent against the whiteness of his pillow.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry!” I squeak, moisture beading around my eyes as my life can’t catch a break.
One thing after another, and they all seem to happen when Mr. Hawkins is there.
Why can't this happen with Katerina? I have been with her for so long that I have gotten used to all kinds of embarrassment with her.
It’s one thing to wake up next to him and pretend that it didn’t happen, but it’s another when I have been sleeping on top of him and sucking on his neck.
I’m not possessive; I wasn’t trying to make it evident that he’s mine.
I don’t know why I did it. I have no excuse and I kind of hope that I don’t need one since I prefer if he doesn’t bring it up.
