by Mia Hoddell
She had been expecting a crappy room that was like something you would find in a roadside motel. She was expecting a leaky sink and a single bed with scratchy covers. There was no reason to why she had assumed that, maybe because she didn’t think Rogan thought much of her. However what he had given her exceeded anything her imagination could have come up with on its own.
The room was at least three times the size of her old flat, with a king-sized bed in the centre of the right wall, a sofa up against the left wall and a door leading off to somewhere. The walls were painted a deep, rich blue with clean silver finishes. The rest of the décor, such as the soft furnishing was tailored to match the silver or was white, giving the room an elegant and expensive feeling.
In front of her was a big glass panelled window that led on to a balcony and overlooked the estate. Cora’s mind was already whirling as she spotted it, but once again Rogan was able to sense what she was thinking easily.
“The windows have been sealed and just in case you manage to get around that without alerting the men who will be stood on the other side of that door,” he said pointing to the door, “Then there will be guards just below the balcony twenty-four seven to foil any escape attempts, of which I’m assuming there will be many.”
Cora had no reply. She knew already what she wanted and she wasn’t going to correct Rogan. If she was to try and escape there would be only one plan and it would work. There was no way she was sticking around or getting caught again so she could face the consequences of her actions.
“Cora,” he called, dragging her back into the present and out of her mind. “It would be advisable not to try anything. I’ve offered you the best here, not only because of the need to keep a close guard on you, but because you are valuable. However, I only need you coherent to perform your duty so if you mess up, you will be seeing the worst I can offer.”
Seeing he wasn’t going to get a response, he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him and giving orders for the men to not let her leave the floor—not that she would be able to without a key card. He knew she would be curious, so he would let her explore at least for a day. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for to go. And he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Rogan had made his way back to his office where he sat at his desk for the scheduled conference call with the leaders of the other cartels. It was one of the things he hated most and after having to deal with Cora, the last thing he wanted to do. But, loading up the software on his computer, he linked it to the TV that was still in view, and entered the conversation where all five leaders were waiting for him.
“Nice of you to finally show up, Carvelli,” Axel, leader of the cartel in Manchester stated bluntly. He was a short, lanky man with a face that reminded him of a weasel. The fact that he had a thick moustache that was greying with age did him no favours either as he twitched his nose and head around like a paranoid rodent.
“I was dealing with something. What is so important that this couldn’t wait?”
“There is unrest in the cities and the outer sections. People are starting to question us. Yesterday a group of lowlifes tried to attack me in broad daylight and others started to follow them. Of course I have dealt with the problem and the perpetrators have been made an example of. However, people cannot be allowed to see there is another alternative to us. The only way to deal with them is to become more brutal: they speak out, we cut out their tongues. They disobey, they get punished with corporal punishment in city centres in front of a crowd. If they attack one of us, their families are killed in front of them before they too die. We have to make an example out of them or the whole country will descend into anarchy again.”
On the screen the six windows that were open showed three eager faces of the more sadistic leaders and three faces enraged by Axel’s comments.
“Are you saying that we cannot control our own territories? I sincerely hope you are not implying that you know what is best for my city,” Rogan’s tone was threatening but Axel refused to break.
“This whole system revolves around us, Carvelli. If one of us falls, so do the rest. It only takes one person to show us as weak and the rest of them will follow.”
Rogan’s mind flashed to Cora instantly but he brushed it aside; things were different with her. The murmur of the other leaders giving their opinions filtered through his speakers but Rogan was disinclined to listen, they all had their own way of running their areas with different levels of violence and so far he had seen no need to repress his population even more—they were already scared of him.
“You run your territory how you wish Axel that is how it works. It’s your responsibility to keep the peace through any means you choose. We have never got in each other’s way or in each other’s business so I’m not about to start now. We have these conferences to keep each other up-to-date. You run things how you want but do not get involved with how I run mine,” Rogan declared angrily. The last thing he needed was people snooping around his and Cora’s relationship and pronouncing him to have gone soft so without waiting for a comment he exited the conference. He understood the need for the system to remain in place—the last thing he wanted was to be dethroned—but he refused to share the leadership with anyone else. If he showed any type of weakness by complying with Axel then the others would assume he was unfit to lead. His territory would be sliced up and that was something he refused to witness.
* * *
Locked in the room, Cora was still trying to figure Rogan out. Yes she was important but that didn’t warrant the unusually gentle treatment he had shown towards her. She had never seen him so tolerant of her foul mouth and bad attitude, and if Cora was being honest with herself it scared her slightly.
What are you up to, Rogan? Cora thought as she made her way to the door, looking in to find a marble bathroom, fitted with a five headed shower. Cora was trying to suppress the side of her that was happy with the arrangements. So far it didn’t seem so bad but the survival instinct in her was telling her not to get used to the illusion as it wouldn’t last.
That part of Cora was beginning to feel caged with all the men surrounding her and watching her every move. Escaping would be a lot harder than she first thought and admitting that to herself made her realise how bad her situation was.
Turning to head back into the main room, a flash of orange on the mirror behind her caught her attention.
Her heart stopped.
How did it get in here? she thought before hesitating to take the note. Maybe they always came from Rogan and the whole thing was just one big game…
Cora tore it off rapidly, desperate to know what it said. She hoped it wasn’t a mockery of how they had played her, so holding her breath, she headed back into the main room.
Moving over towards the bed, Cora threw herself backwards on to it. The soft mattresses engulfed her and the duvet puffed up around her sides as she exhaled and tried to build up the courage to see what was written.
I guess I could get used to this. No, don’t be stupid, this isn’t real and you know it. Just play along, see what Rogan is really planning and then escape, she thought, fighting both sides of the mental battle that was taking place inside her head.
It was a great distraction for a few seconds but then the pressing weight of the paper in her hands that she had flung above her head regained her attention. It was like she had a five-kilo dumbbell in her hand rather than a scrap of paper with the burden it carried.
Cora needed to know, so raising her hands slowly back over her head she brought the note into her eye line. Gripping the top layer, she pulled back the folded corner to reveal the words, knowing she couldn’t delay it any longer.
When the note could open no more, both relief and dread surged through her body as she read the words.
Starbucks Café 77-78 Wensworth Road London W9 9HT 10:00am on the 8th July Be there or your life is about to get a whole lot worse. We can help you.
Chapter 9
It had ta
ken hours for Cora to fall asleep that night. Not only were the new surroundings unsettling her but the words that had appeared on the note were playing constantly in the back of her mind, as she needed to know who was sending them. They were obviously well connected if they could get messages to her in the middle of Rogan’s empire, something which worried her. It meant they were powerful. However, what she didn’t understand was why they had assisted her before and now wanted to meet. It intrigued her to know what they wanted. Then thinking of all the possibilities, she wondered if the meeting could be a set-up and Cora wasn’t sure whether the risk was worth it—even if she could get out of the house.
She was lying in bed, the puffy, silver duvet pulled all the way up around her neck as her hands flattened it down tightly, making sure none of the cold morning air could get in. Her mind began to wander as she lay there, delaying getting up as long as possible. It was considering all of the possible ways someone could have taped a note to her bathroom mirror, but none of them seemed plausible. Then she moved on to their motives and what they could want her for. But beside her ability, she was dumbfounded as no one besides Rogan and her ‘friends’ knew her secret, and the notes had started long before the drunken game of truth or dare. If someone else happened to know what she was then first of all Cora was in trouble, but secondly there was no way Cora was going to let herself be used by another person she had never met.
Cora was thinking about getting up but the realisation of having nothing to do stopped her…that and the heavenly bed that surrounded her. She had honestly never been so comfortable, at least that was until the urgent knocking hammered on the door to the room.
“Cora, be ready and downstairs in half an hour, the boss has a job for you.”
Tensing at the voice, she muttered something unflattering under her breath as she ignored the man on the other side of her door whose voice she recognised instantly. The deep, gravelly sound still managed to sound clear through the thick wooden door and it frustrated her that he had some kind of control over her.
Nick sounded like he was getting too much pleasure out of being the one to wake her up and order her to her job. Cora could hear the smile in his voice and when she heard no footsteps retreating, she threw the duvet back over her head to drown out the second warning.
It worked. Cora had no idea what Nick had said. To her it sounded muffled, like she was submerged underwater and Nick was shouting from a pool side, something she thought suited him.
His murmuring stopped, which Cora took as a good sign. Sighing, she remained under the duvet, enjoying the dark and the peaceful heat it brought as she let her thoughts run.
* * *
Getting no response from Cora, Nick grumbled under his breath. The last thing he needed was to run around her because she was acting like a spoilt princess. He had more important things to do for Rogan that didn’t involve seeing one of the people he hated most.
Pulling his keys from his belt in an angry gesture, he unlocked the door, pushing it open with little care. The wooden panel swung back, crashing against the wall with a thud as he entered the room.
Spotting the raised lump among the covers, he grumbled as he approached the bed. Nick couldn’t understand why Rogan had given her one of the best rooms in the building when she had treated him so appallingly. Cora had also shown him up countless times but Nick had learnt the hard way that it was not his place to question his boss. Rogan had his reasons, and Nick had learnt to trust his judgement.
Stood at the bottom of the bed, all that was visible of Cora were a few locks of blonde hair peeking out from under the duvet. Without thinking about it, Nick reached down and making sure he gripped the covers tightly, he ripped them back.
The duvet flew off Cora, leaving her vulnerable to the crisp morning air as he dropped it on the floor. Her mouth and eyes were stretched wide with shock but quickly narrowed into annoyed slits as she saw Nick.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted, drawing her arms up around her chest as she sat up, pulling her bare legs beneath her.
There would have been a time when Nick would have loved to see Cora in bed wearing just a shirt, but that was the past and he had long since rid himself of his feelings for her. Now there was only the desire to make her life as miserable as she had made his. For that reason he easily turned his back on her, walking towards the door.
“Twenty minutes, Cora. Get downstairs and don’t push your luck,” he snapped, shouting back over his shoulder as he grabbed the door, slamming it behind him with unnecessary force.
* * *
Screeching in anger, Cora threw the nearest object to her that could do some damage. The clock hurtled through the air, hitting the door. It made a satisfying crash as the plastic smashed but Cora couldn’t help but wish it had been against Nick’s head rather than Rogan’s precious door.
She expected Nick to come back into the room and reprimand her or at least find another way to make her suffer. But when a minute passed, and nothing had happened, Cora assumed he was too fond of his head to risk it.
Pulling herself to the edge of the bed, she hurried to the shower as the cold air sent a shiver up her spine and covered her nearly naked body in goose bumps. Having not been expecting to be kidnapped, Cora had been forced to sleep in her shirt and underwear which covered a lot less than she would have liked to have had on display.
As the water ran over her, slowly heating her body back up to a normal temperature, she finally managed to control her shivering. She kept a watch on the time as she didn’t want to be late. She understood she needed to show she was complying to earn more freedom and the chance to escape. Reluctantly, she switched off the shower. After drying herself, she pulled on the same clothes she had been wearing the day before and slept in. It wasn’t ideal and she didn’t want to, but she had no other choice. There was no way she was walking around Rogan’s mansion in just a towel.
After fixing her hair, Cora had five minutes to spare, so walking towards the door she pulled it open. Stepping out into the hallway, she was met by two of the most muscular men she had seen in her life.
Standing on either side of her, they caged her against the shut door, their bodies forming a barrier.
“You’re not meant to leave this room,” one of the men stated. His voice was low and threatening as if he expected Cora to fight him. He was right.
“Rogan has a job for me so I suggest you let me go. You wouldn’t want me to be late would you?” Cora smiled sweetly at him, trying to cool her temper and act innocent.
“You’re not to leave this room,” he stated again, his voice more insistent.
Where the hell were these two when Nick came? Cora thought as she let out an exasperated sigh.
“I was summoned by Nick half an hour ago so I think you should move. You wouldn’t want to be the reason I’m late would you? I don’t know how things work around here but I’m almost certain that if Rogan gives an order you do not have the power to overrule him. I’m also assuming he doesn’t take kindly to people who obstruct his orders. Am I right?” Cora said in a bored tone while arching her eyebrow in question.
Her words hit their mark and she noticed the men start to shuffle uneasily on their feet as they deliberated what to do.
Folding her arms across her chest, Cora waited, casually looking down at her nails as if she had all the time in the world.
“Sure, take all the time you need guys. The longer I’m here the more minutes pass and the later I’ll be,” she said, a cruel smile on her face as she watched the men glance at each other. Clearly they were there because of their muscle, not their brains.
Cora was about to speak again and issue another threat when a voice called out from the other end of the hall. “Cora, get your ass over here now. You’re two minutes late and Rogan doesn’t approve of bad punctuality.” Nick’s voice was curt and authoritative. As the order reached the men it was like it physically sliced through them. Their bodies tensed as they registere
d who it had come from and quickly they stepped away, allowing Cora a way through and revealing Nick, stood at the top of the stairs. His face was angry, the lines on his forehead deepened with his frown.
Giving the men an I-told-you-so smile, Cora walked past them towards Nick. Her smile faded as soon as she looked away from the men though.
“Not my fault. Your lackeys are brain dead and don’t follow orders. You really should make sure your help can understand English,” Cora sneered at Nick as she approached him, her arms still folded.
“They were following orders. They were told not to let you leave. No one updated them,” Nick replied turning to unlock the door. If he expected Cora to follow him though, he was wrong. She was busy surveying the corridor for possible routes she could use to escape.
“Get a move on,” Nick said his voice tense as he spoke through gritted teeth. He had climbed back up the few steps he had descended in a few easy strides until he was right next to Cora. His arm shot out and encircling her upper arm, he forced her ahead of him roughly, making sure she would move this time.
“Lighten up, Nick. You’ve become so tense,” Cora taunted but she got no response from him other than the subtle grinding of teeth as he clenched his jaw. She didn’t know it, but Nick was trying impossibly hard to refrain himself from pushing her down the stairs.
As they reached the bottom Cora paused. Looking both right and left she tried to memorise the layout in case she needed to make a run for it. However, Nick did not give her any time. Replacing his hand on her arm, he tugged her to the right. He was anything but gentle as he led her towards Rogan’s office.
Instead of pausing and knocking on the door like she knew she was meant to, Cora burst into the room. In doing so she removed the door from the pathway of Nick’s hand and left him jogging in behind her with an apologetic look on his face.
