by Bella King
“Can you help me?” I ask, my voice turning urgent. “I need to get out of here.”
The guard nods. “I will do my best, but we can’t talk now. I will get in contact with you later. It’s too dangerous right now to explain things.”
“But who are you?” I ask as he begins to turn away.
“A friend,” he says, then he walks away.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m glad you’re making yourself comfortable,” Rurik says as he enters the living room.
I’m reclined on the couch sideways, staring at the Television as it plays a movie that I’ve seen several times in the past. I’m not actually paying attention to it since the words of the mysterious guard are still running through my head. They give me hope, and I cling to them like they’re water during a drought.
I look up from the TV as Rurik walks toward me, standing quite close and looking down on me. He’s already much taller than I am, but from this angle, he looks like a giant.
“Would you like for me to give you a tour, or have you already looked around?” he asks.
My heart beats faster when he mentions me having looked around. Does he know that I was searching the house, or did he just assume that I was since I was a captive? It’s what anyone would do if they were locked away unsupervised.
I shrug, sitting up so that I’m further away from him. “I took a look around. It’s a nice place, but since there’s no internet, I thought I would watch a movie.”
He smiles. “Good. I’ll show you the back yard. There’s a swing out there that you might enjoy while the weather is still so nice. It’s good to get fresh air.”
I rise from the couch, trying to be as pleasant and obedient as possible now that I know I have hope of getting out. I need to keep Rurik calm so that he doesn’t know that I’m trying to escape. He needs to believe that I have accepted my fate.
“Will you tell me more about the mafia?” I ask Rurik as he leads me to the back door.
“Are you curious about what I do, or what your father did?”
“You can tell me about both,” I say, following him closely as he opens the door.
“Well,” he says, stepping outside and waiting for me to join him. “A lot of what we did overlapped. In the beginning, it was all Mr. Sommer running things, but he appointed me as his righthand man, and I began to take on more work.”
I step outside into the pleasantly hot outdoors with Rurik and close the door behind me. We begin to walk through the grass, stepping off the concrete porch.
“Our operations grew to be quite large, and I knew about most of them. There were still things that your father kept secret, though.”
“Like what?”
“Like his government contacts,” Rurik says, seeming to glide over the grass as he walks. He’s light on his feet despite being bulky in appearance.
“What do you mean?” I ask, looking up at him and frowning as I cup my hand over my eyes to block out the sun.
“People think that the mafia and the government are two separate forces, pitted against one another. Well,” he says with a smirk, “That couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
“So, you work with the government?”
“On some things, yes,” he says, walking slowly to enjoy the sun. “But we’re no longer involved with them. We’ve scaled back. In truth, we had to because your father took all his contacts with him when he died. We couldn’t retrieve any records, even after going through his private documents.”
“That’s good,” I say. “You’re not supposed to be influencing the government.”
Rurik laughs, looking genuinely amused by my words. “You’re a naïve woman, Violet.”
“I’m not,” I say, but then I remember my intentions of going along with Rurik until I find the opportunity to escape. I need to appear agreeable. I clear my throat. “I mean, you’re teaching me a lot. I don’t want to be naïve.”
Rurik raises his eyebrows, a smile still on his square jaw. “There is a lot to learn about the mafia. If you were a man, then I might be tempted to teach you.”
“A woman can do the same things as a man can,” I say, unable to be quiet after that comment. I find it to be quite insulting, and I won’t let him get away with it.
“A woman can do many things, and there are many of them in the mafia,” Rurik explains, “But you wouldn’t want to be. They’re mostly seducers aimed at milking politicians and enemy bosses of their secrets. There’s sex involved in that,” he says, looking me up and down as he says it.
I get a chill through my body, as though he touched me with his eyes just then. “Well, in that case, I wouldn’t want to be part of the mafia.”
“I doubt you would, anyway. It’s brutal, and people get killed all the time. Have you ever seen someone’s eyes pop from their head during a shotgun blast?”
I shake my head, not even wanting to picture such a gruesome thing.
“Have you ever woken up to see your friend’s corpse chopped up and delivered to your house?” Rurik continues, driving in his previous point.
I shake my head again. “I get it. The mafia is terrible, but my father wasn’t a bad man. He never did stuff like that.”
“He didn’t have to,” Rurik replies. “There are people who do that for us. I’ve only killed a handful of people in my life. Some of the men in our ranks have hundreds of kills on record, and that’s only the ones that are sanctioned by the sect. Some of the low-level crooks kill for fun.”
“That’s horrible,” I say, recoiling at the information Rurik has given me. I don’t want to be involved with these types of people, and I refuse to believe that my father was one of them. I don’t let Rurik know that, though. That’s my secret to keep.
“Your father was a powerful and very clever man. He didn’t get his hands dirty often. He managed to grow our ranks until we were the largest mafia in the world. You make a lot of enemies when you’re on top. Perhaps we were too big to survive,” Rurik says, shaking his head as we approach the swing he had mentioned.
“Do you know who killed my father? Were you able to get him?” I ask.
Rurik hadn’t answered this question directly last night, which leads me to believe that they weren’t able to catch whoever did it. Rurik confirms my suspicion. “I will kill this man the instant I lay eyes upon him. He was in our ranks, to be sure, but I have vetted everyone personally since then.”
Except for the man who approached me outside of the house earlier today, but I wasn’t going to mention that.
Rurik stops when we get to the swing. “Perhaps we should talk about something more pleasant.”
“Alright,” I say, jumping down on the large wooden swing and patting the seat next to me. “Let’s talk about you.”
“I already have,” Rurik replies, looking confused as he eases himself down on the swing next to me.
“Not really,” I reply. “Tell me about what you like to do, not all this mafia stuff. I want to know who the real Rurik is.”
He shrugs. “I am nothing more than a man, a mortal, a servant of my people.”
This is going to be difficult, but I want Rurik to open up to me more. It will make him more comfortable and more likely to trust me. He will slip. He had mentioned seducers, and I’m not as innocent as he thinks I am. Who says I’m not capable of milking him?
Chapter Twelve
“I’m sure you take days off,” I say, kicking my feet to start the swing moving.
“Sometimes,” Rurik replies, leaning back and placing his arm behind me as he did on the couch last night.
“Then you have hobbies,” I say.
“I used to pick locks as a hobby when I was younger,” he says. “Does that count?”
“I suppose so, if it’s not related to work.”
“It’s not,” he replies. “We don’t usually take doors down. Windows are easier because they break. It’s basically like having a hole in the side of your house with a neon blinking sign that says come right in.�
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I never thought of it that way, but it’s true. How easy is it to smash through a window to get into a house?
“I don’t go jumping through windows much either,” Rurik says. “The lockpicking thing started when I was younger because I didn’t want to get a job. I remember going to a bicycle shop and applying because my father made me. When I saw the money in the cash register, I got a better idea and started practicing lockpicking. I actually got hired, but I never showed up. I robbed the place a week later.”
“Wow,” is all I can reply.
Rurik shrugs. “It was wrong, but I got addicted to crime after that. I’ve always been okay with risk, and when risk translates to a whole lot of money, well, it becomes too appealing to say no to.”
“Did you ever get caught?” I ask, feeling drawn to his story.
“Oh yeah, a few times. The first time I was shot at, but I escaped without injury. I stopped robbing houses after that and started hitting shops overnight. Nobody was waiting to blow my head off then,” he explains, now swinging his feet with me in unison.
“How did you join the mafia?”
“I got scooped up into a street gang, then moved up the ranks. Eventually, I became the leader, and when Mr. Sommer was out unifying the mafia groups, he picked us up as well because we were one of the biggest groups in Russia at the time.”
“And you earned his respect,” I say, trying to feed Rurik compliments to make him more comfortable.
“That’s correct. And believe me, it wasn’t easy,” he says.
“I can tell you’re a hardworking man,” I say. “I can see why you’re in such a high position.”
Rurik squints at me. Shit, maybe that was too much too soon. Do I sound fake? I’m not experienced in this whole seduction thing. It’s not my forte.
I smile at Rurik, trying to maintain my pleasant attitude. “You are in a high position, right? I mean, you took over the mafia.”
Rurik nods. “Yes,” he says, but I can tell there is suspicion still remaining in his voice.
I look forward, gazing across the bright lawn with my hands clasped on my lap. In any other scenario, this would actually be a pleasant day. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I’m sitting on a swing with a handsome older man who is telling me about his journey through life. I should enjoy it, even if I’m a captive.
“So, is lock picking your only hobby?” I ask, pivoting to avoid arousing more suspicion.
“No. I have others,” he says, leaving his response vague.
“Like what?” I ask.
“You ask too many questions,” he replies, shaking his head. “Enough of this.”
I fall silent. Rurik is a hard nut to crack, but I’m going to get to the bottom of this. So far, everything he has said has been with the utmost confidence, and it’s difficult to find holes in any of his stories. However, the guard who spoke to me earlier today told me not to believe Rurik, and I’m more inclined to believe someone who is trying to get me out of this mess rather than someone who just put me into it.
Rurik plants his feet into the ground suddenly, causing me to slide a few inches forward on the swing as it comes to an abrupt halt. “I’d like to show you the garden,” he says.
I slip the rest of the way off the swing and stand to wait for him. “Let’s go, then,” I say, making sure I sound as cheerful as I can without it appearing fake. I should have taken acting classes when I was in high school, but I was too busy overdoing math and science like the dork that I was. So far, that hasn’t paid off.
Rurik leads the way, walking toward the front of the house. When he’s just about to step into the front yard, I hold back, remembering what he said about being shot on sight.
“Aren’t we not supposed to go in the front?” I ask, digging my feet into the soft grass.
Rurik turns and chuckles. “That’s only if I’m not with you. They’re not going to have an issue if you’re with me.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to take risks.
“I promise,” he says, holding out his hand. “Now come with me. That’s an order.”
I take a breath and catch up to him as we head out into the front yard.
Rurik proceeds to show me the flower garden, which mainly consists of violets. He makes several references to my supposed real name, as though he’s trying to implant it into my head, then we head back inside the house.
Rurik tells me that he has to leave again, but that he’ll be back this evening so that we can spend time together. He sounds like he wants something from me, and I just smile and nod along with him. I’ll do anything to keep him happy while I conspire with the guard to get me out of here.
Chapter Thirteen
The guard doesn’t show up while Rurik is gone. I even peek out the back door to check if he’s there, but he is nowhere to be found. I’ll have to keep myself occupied in the meantime.
I decide to try out the bathtub. Since I’m no longer working, I want to take the time to relax and unwind. Rurik always seems so calm and collected, except when he’s angry, and I’m going to need to be on his level if I ever wish to be able to manipulate him.
I saunter upstairs, grabbing a bottle of wine from the kitchen as I go. I can still taste it on my lips from last night, and I have the desire for more. I’ve never had such expensive wine, and I hate to say it, but I’m developing a taste for it. This is one habit that is surely going to bite me in the ass when I get out of here.
The house is so quiet when there isn’t anyone else here. I can hear my own heart beating in my chest as I make it up the stairs and enter into my bedroom. I leave the door unlocked because Rurik has the keys anyway, and even if he didn’t, apparently, he can pick locks.
I still lock the door to the bathroom out of habit, and I look at myself in the mirror before I start getting undressed. My cheeks are pink from the sun, and I don’t look much like a captive. If anyone saw me, they would assume I’m on vacation in California, not at the will of a mafia boss.
I pull my hair down from the tight ponytail I am wearing and shake it out across my shoulders. I washed it last night, so I don’t need to again, but I don’t want to have it up while I’m in the bath. I’m trying to relax.
I scan the odd arrangement of knobs and switches next to the tub, trying to figure out how to turn the damn thing on. It’s awfully complicated for a bathtub. Perhaps living in a simpler house would have been adequate.
I turn a knob, and water begins to flow. A light turns on inside of the tub, circling the entire circumference at the bottom like an LED strip. I grab the open bottle of wine that I brought with me and take a sip of it as I watch the tub fill with water.
I spot several holes in the sides, which I assume are water jets. I’m going to enjoy this bath, even under my current circumstances. I begin flipping switches and turning knobs randomly, trying to activate the jets. The first switch changes the lights to a rotating array of colors, and the second one starts the jets. Bubbles rise to the surface of the tub as the jets shoot water from all sides.
“I might even take a nap,” I muse, taking another sip of my wine straight from the bottle as I step into the bathtub.
The water is steaming hot, almost enough to burn my skin. That’s the way I like it, though, and the moving water in the tub feels like heaven. I sink into the bath, the small hairs on my arms standing straight up as the water overtakes me.
I can feel muscles in my body relaxing for the first time since I was taken from my home as I immerse myself into the bubbling tub. It’s large enough for me to stretch my legs out all the way as I recline with the neck of the wine bottle clutched in my fist.
I close my eyes as the water continues to fill the tub close to the brim. I almost let it overflow before turning it off. I thought bathtubs were supposed to have a backup drain if the water gets too high, but this fancy one doesn’t. Maybe the jets would interrupt that.
I stain my lips with wine, spilling some across my neck and letting it run
into the water as I drink. I’m not drinking slowly, either. I’m drinking to get drunk, something I haven’t done in a long time. All the stress of being kidnapped is going away as I down the entire bottle and lay in the bath with the jets massaging my body.
I’m sure that Rurik is going to come home tonight and shame me for getting drunk, but I don’t care. I’m through with caring for the time being. All my life, I have had to care about one thing or another. People have always been feigning for my attention. It’s time that I reclaim my peace and quiet, if only for the moment.
After what feels like an hour in the tub, my body is like spaghetti, and I’m very close to falling asleep. I tilt the wet bottle of wine to my mouth, only to discover that there’s nothing left inside. In frustration, I toss the bottle down onto the tiles outside the tub, fully intending on breaking it, but it doesn’t break. It makes a hefty thud and rolls off toward the toilet.
“Son of a bitch,” I say, placing my hands on either side of the tub to pull myself out. I realize that for a small woman like me, an entire bottle is a lot to drink in one sitting. I should probably take a nap before I do something even stupider than tossing around a glass bottle in the bathroom.
I leave the tub on, stumbling out with blurry vision to the bedroom. The walls seem to be moving as I toss myself onto the bed, breathing heavily against the sheets. Someone has changed them since I spilled coffee on them this morning. They must have done it while I was out with Rurik.
I slip my hand under the pillow and pull it toward me, resting my dizzy head on it as the cool air dries my body off. I didn’t even bother to towel myself off, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll dry off just the same by lying in bed.
Something crinkles against the palm of my hand as I hold the pillow under my head. I pull out my hand and try to focus on what my fingers have clasped onto. It appears to be a piece of paper, folded in two places, and placed under my pillow intentionally.
