Pulling the cardigan tighter around me, I sit down on the sofa and curl up in the corner of the ‘L’. Guilt swamps me. I fucked Cooper. I asked him to fuck me, I made the first move, and I gave into the urges that make me a sinner, just like Cooper said. I’m engaged to Griffin. We’re supposed to be planning our wedding. I’m not supposed to be here, convincing myself it’s just a holiday and I’m allowed to screw another man; the man who took me from my fiancé, no less. With me gone, Griffin has no one to look after him, to make sure he has his morning shakes, his dinner ready when he returns from work, and someone to set out the day’s clothes the night before. For a second, I allow self-hatred to consume me. Cooper reminded me that I’m an ex-slut, someone who would open her legs for a man who stirred raging arousal inside her. But I’m no ex-slut This is my fault. Any normal person would have avoided going to the swimming pool late at night, knowing a stranger would be there posing the risk of kidnap or murder. Me? I still went, because I wanted to see Cooper; even if I had no intention of touching, I wanted to fill myself up on visuals of him. As a result, I’ve left my family behind with no idea what happened to me, and I’ve cheated on the man who loves me without having to lock me in a house and threaten to kill me if I try and leave.
What now? I stare through the TV, wondering what I’m supposed to do for the next twenty-four hours, in a house that isn’t mine, with nothing to do but wait to be returned to. I sit and look around the room for a few minutes, before standing up and deciding to explore the house to find out where I’m allowed to go. I pad along the hallway, testing doors—most of which are locked. Cooper’s office is locked, as well as doors to two more rooms on the ground floor. There’s a downstairs shower room, a cloakroom that smells of chlorine—reminding me of Cooper and making me pine for my captor’s return, and a small sitting room. I try the wall-mounted TV, but still can’t find any connected channels. I test the windows in each of the rooms I have access to, but there are no openings. Nor can I see beyond the greenery Cooper’s house is nestled in. I’m completely alone. I leave the sitting room and walk to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge, and grab an apple from the fruit bowl. I lean on the counter and bite into the apple, the loud crunch the only sound to keep me company. I suck in a deep breath and release it, looking up out of the fanlight and around the rest of the room. Cupboards. I can be nosey. I open and close each one, disappointed when I notice there are two of everything. Two wine glasses and two tumblers. Two plates, two bowls, and two small side plates. Two teacups and two coffee mugs. Two sets of cutlery, one bread knife, a boning knife, a carving knife, and a cleaver. It’s all so impersonal, like Cooper doesn’t live here, which is a direct contradiction to how warm and comforting the décor is. He has no photographs, no portraits or ornaments. The books in the bookcase have been placed there as part of the furniture, not because he appreciates literature. He didn’t suggest a movie to watch the first night I spent here, which tells me he doesn’t like movies, either. So what does he like?
It’s beginning to get dark by the time I finish rummaging through the cupboards and drawers in every room I’m allowed in, and I still know nothing about the man whose house I live in. Nothing. No childhood images stuffed into drawers to hint at a strained relationship with his parents. Nothing he brought here when he moved from the U.S. There’s nothing documenting his swimming career, although I know he has, or had, one. There’s nothing showing me what he does for a living that allows him to have this totally secluded house, and just go away for the weekend. Nothing. There is nothing here.
I get up from where I’ve been kneeling on the floor searching one of the sideboards, and look at the clock on the wall. Eight pm. Sighing, I decide to eat, hoping he doesn’t make a habit of leaving me on my own. He’ll have very little food left when he returns, and food is the one thing he has an abundance of. Cupboards filled with dried food, pastas, rice and pulses (which he only eats at the weekend), and the fridge is filled with fruits and vegetables, fresh juices, meats and cheeses. He’s left me Tupperware boxes—two of them, labelled lunch and dinner. I throw lunch away, hoping he won’t look in the bin when he gets home and discovers I’ve broken a rule again, and decide on the salad he prepared in the dinner box. I place an extra slice of ham and an extra tablespoon of grated mozzarella, and carry my plate to the TV room to watch Endless Love. It’s a safe movie; I’m never going to have a childhood sweetheart my parents loathe. My mum and dad love Griffin, and I don’t want to be here with Cooper.
I eat my dinner, take a packet of Maltesers from the fridge in the TV room, and then take my plate into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine—the bottle. I intend to drink the whole thing. With my first glass poured, I switch the kitchen light off and cross the hallway back to the movie, but I’m just a few steps from the door when my feet tangle in something and I fall. I scream as something simultaneously soft yet brittle strokes my feet, and the glass smashes when I collide with the wood. I feel a shard slice my palm before I even realise what happened, and another fleck of glass wedges itself in the heel of my hand.
“Fuck!”
I stand up, raising my hand above my head to slow the bleeding, and rush back to the kitchen to run the tap.
“Fuck, shit, fuck.”
Cooper only has two glasses. He’s going to know I broke one. Will he understand it was an accident? That I fell over…what did I fall over? I jump when a dark shadow crosses my peripheral, and my head snaps up as I suck in a gasp.
“Lo siento,” a timid voice replies as a small woman who must be in her sixties stops in front of me on the other side of the counter. “I’m sorry, miss.”
“Wh-who are you?”
“Mr Jennings’ maid, Miss Erin. I’m sorry I frighten you. I hear you cry.” She nods as she holds her hand out for mine. “Let me see.”
I place my hand in hers and she guides it under the tap between us. I wince and hiss, trying to pull my hand away from the pain, but the maid holds me firm.
“Cooper said I wouldn’t see any staff,” I say as the blood washes down the plughole.
“No.” She smiles softly at me. She isn’t as afraid of Cooper’s reaction as I am. “But you got hurt and I need to help.”
“Can you get out?”
“Perdóname?”
Per-don-a-me. Pardon? She’s asking me to repeat myself.
“Are you a prisoner? Can you leave?”
She laughs, throwing her head back and squeezing my hand without thought. I wince and tug out of her hold again.
“No. I go home. I just heard you cry.”
“Thank you for your help.”
Grabbing a tea-towel, I wrap up my hand and hold it tightly in my closed fist; I leave the kitchen and turn the light on in the hall to see what caused the accident. I didn’t notice anything on the floor earlier. The maid calls after me as I leave, but I ignore her. She can shove her laughter up her arse. She must know why I’m here. I walk back towards the TV room and see a lump of fur in front of the shattered glass. I frown as I creep towards it, wondering if a wild animal has managed to find a way in where I’m desperate to find a way out. It doesn’t move as I edge closer and when I reach it, I crouch down to pick it up.
“What the fuck?”
“Miss Erin, please.”
I come face to face with a teddy bear. A fucking teddy bear has magicked itself out of nowhere. The teddy bear has it in for me like Cooper does, and has made sure I’ll be punished by the man of the house for smashing the glass.
“What is this?” I ask, standing and turning to the maid as she stops a few feet from me.
“You’re hurt. Please let me clean your wound.”
“What is this? Where did it come from? Is it yours…did you drop it so I’d fall?”
“No.” She shakes her head rapidly, raising her hands in front of her to show she means no harm.
I refuse to believe that. Everything in my life in captivity right now intends to harm me. To make m
e flourish and flutter before I’m squashed. I don’t trust this woman who sprung up out of nowhere, just like the teddy.
Why does Cooper have a teddy bear? It has a collar around its neck, which isn’t as worn as his body, with the word: ‘Aldora’ embroidered in pink. So the teddy’s name is Aldora. I frown and turn it over, inspecting to see if there are any signs of who it belongs to. Wait…
I swallow hard, my gaze sliding over to the maid who is frozen on the spot, staring at me, and she has paled. She’s beyond pale…the blood has drained from her face and her gaze is fixed on the teddy in my hand.
“Who does this teddy belong to?”
My hands are trembling, but I pull the stuffed bear close and cross my arms over my chest to hold him tightly.
“He’s-”
“I don’t want to hear it from you,” I snap, reaching down to pick up the top half of the wine bottle. “Where’s Cooper?”
“He…it’s his weekend off.”
“Whose teddy is this?”
“I can’t say, miss. Please.”
“He killed a child.” I stare down at the teddy, the dark red stain on his cheek laughing at me. Taunting me. Reminding me that I’m dealing with a monster. A killer. Worse…a child-killer. “He killed a child!”
“No.” The maid shakes her head again and again and again. “No.”
“You go away and you call him. I assume Mr Jennings has a phone?” She nods, and then shakes her head. Yes, he has a phone. No, she’s not calling him. “Fine. Then you can explain that to him when he asks where his prisoner has gone.”
I stride towards her and past her, bumping her shoulder as I shove past her. If she wants to protect him, a man who kills children, she can burn in hell with him. I want nothing to do with him. I refuse to follow his rules. I refuse to entertain the idea that there is something beyond the surface that just needs to learn to let go. If he wants to kill me, fine; but I will not stay here and let him keep me like a pet when he has killed a child. A fucking child. I need to get out and alert the police. I might not be able to save myself, but I will find justice for the child who owned this bear. Cooper Jennings belongs in prison and I intend to make sure he gets there.
“Miss Erin, please!”
The maid is shrieking, spewing stuff in Spanish like I’ll listen to her in her tongue if I won’t listen to her in mine. I wave my hand, dismissing her with the hand holding the wine bottle while the other one continues to grip the bear. He killed a child. My kidnapper is a murderer. I storm through the kitchen and grab the back of the chair, ready to break out of my prison.
“Mr Cooper!” the maid shouts and I know she’s on the phone to her boss.
Good. I’d love to see him jet back from wherever he’s gone before I get out.
She continues talking in Spanish and I have no idea what she’s saying, but I have the burning desire to get out, and I refuse to squash it. I raise the chair above my head, the bear and bottle temporarily discarded, and throw it at the French doors that lead to the garden. The chair leaves my grasp, but it doesn’t move. A large hand reaches the back of the chair as I let go and dread makes my entire body tingle with awareness. Cooper is here.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasps in my ear.
He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my hair. He sets the chair down from behind me, and I spin around to face him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl, my arm shooting out to slap his cheek.
The maid shrieks from behind him and I look over his shoulder to see her cover her mouth with both hands. She isn’t afraid of him; she isn’t concerned for my safety. She’s concerned for him; she’s worried that I’ve hurt him and she wishes she could rewind the past few seconds and stop me doing it. I don’t. My hand sings with burning pain, but seeing the red handprint on Cooper’s cheek makes me smile.
“You’re a fucking psychopath, and I refuse to play house with you.” He says nothing, his eyes boring down into me as he raises his hand to his face and cups his cheek. “Do you hear me, you lunatic? You may as well kill me now because I am never going to agree to stay here with you. You’re a murderer…you’re a murderer.” I crumble then, feeling my voice quiver with rage and anguish. “You’re a murderer.”
Cooper is silent for a long time, but his eyes never leave mine. I know I can’t leave. I know the second I move a muscle, I’m history. He’s holding us here on purpose, with the smothering tension and overwhelming electricity that makes me want to attack. A slap wasn’t enough. Cooper deserves to die for what he’s done.
“Care to explain how you came to that conclusion?” he asks.
His voice is monotonous and dry, his harsh whichever-part American clip making me shiver. He’s calm, cool and collected. He hasn’t hit me, hasn’t reached for his gun, and then I realise…he’s dressed for bed. He was never away for the weekend; he just didn’t want to spend it with me.
“I thought you were away?”
“Explain yourself, caterpillar, or I will blow your fucking brains all over the kitchen. You never would have escaped, you know. You think I’m not prepared for you to make a break for freedom?” I flinch when he reaches behind me and grabs the chair. His muscles barely twitch when he launches the chair across the room. It bounces off the glass, hits me in the back of the legs and propels me towards him. He catches me, gripping my biceps like a vice. “Now, tell me, Erin…what makes you think I’m a killer?”
“Al-” I stutter, stop, and try again. “Aldora.”
A growl rumbles low in his throat, making his chest physically vibrate.
“What did you just say?”
“Su osito de peluche, señor,” the maid says. I narrow my eyes at her, hating that Cooper understands her, but I’m in the dark. But she smiles. “Aldora.”
Cooper glances at the table and sighs as he rolls his eyes. He drags his hand through his hair, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him look unhinged and out of control. He suddenly looks exhausted; his eyes darken, his posture softens in defeat and there’s a gleam in his eyes that begs for understanding.
“Don’t do that!” I shove at him, no longer caring if he attacks back. No amount of physical pain could rival the confusion this man stirs in me. “Don’t manipulate me with your vulnerability. Have you hurt a child? Have you got a child held captive here like me? Have you killed someone’s baby?”
A tear falls and I realise I’m crying. Sobbing. Shaking as the cries wrack my body; they’re tears of fear of the truth; they’re tears for a child who wants their mother like I want mine; they’re tears for Cooper because I’ve never seen someone look so afraid. They’re tears for me, because I can’t trust him.
Cooper takes a step forward and I take a step back, stumbling over the chair behind me and falling backwards into the glass. He reaches out to steady me, shaking his head as he picks up the bear, and what’s left of the bottle of wine.
“Were you planning on trying to kill me with this?” he asks, nodding at the bottle.
“It’s not past tense yet. I might still try to kill you.”
“And the bear?” He holds it close, placing the bottle back on the table so he can hold the bear in both hands and smooth down its fur. “Where did you find him?”
“On the floor.” I keep my voice calm and unattached. I can’t mentally be here, unprepared for this revelation. I know he’s a monster; I can see the remorse in his steely eyes. “Right after I fell over it, spilt my wine, smashed the glass, cut my hand, and ran into the maid you told me I’d never see.”
“I asked Isadora to stay here to make sure you were safe.”
“While you were where?”
“Next door.”
“What’s next door?” I shake my head and lock my hands together in a search for mental, emotional, and physical support. “No. That’s where you keep them.”
“I don’t kill people.”
“Yes you do.”
“I don’t kill children.”
“I don’t believe you!” I move to reach for him, to slap or claw or just do something, but think better of it. I need answers. “Who does the teddy belong to?” My voice fails me and breaks, when all I want is to stay strong. “Why is it covered in blood?”
I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a sob, glancing at the teddy at the same time as Cooper.
“It’s not blood.”
“I know blood when I see it, Cooper. Are you going to tell me it’s strawberry jam and the bear magically appeared on your floor?”
He tips his head from side to side and takes another step forward. I’m as far back as I can go, as far away from him as I can get. “It’s raspberry jam, actually…and I imagine it was left here…” He looks over his shoulder at Isadora and she winces, shaking her head. “By mistake.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Taste it.”
He holds the bear out and closes the distance between us, until the tips of his toes touch the tips of mine and the bear is an inch from my face.
“Not a chance.”
I wince when Cooper grips my jaw in one hand, pinning my head to the glass with impossible strength, smirking at me when tears pool to blur my vision.
“No, no. You think you’ve got it all figured out. So taste the fucking bear and then tell me I’m a liar.”
“Please don’t.”
Ignoring my plea, Cooper squeezes harder, forcing my mouth to open as I cry out in pain. The second my lips part, he forces the bear to my mouth. I don’t need to taste it; I can smell the jam and the flavour whispers over my taste buds as I try to draw a breath.
Butterfly Page 8
