Page 9 of Clover

Sof silky fabric covers my skin. The bed beneath me is plush and large. The fog in my brain makes me sluggish, and it takes every ounce of my energy to force my eyes open. Expecting to see the bright white walls of my bedroom, I’m surprised when I’m met with dark grey and rich blue curtains.This isn’t my bedroom.

A soft throb thumps at the back of my head.I need some aspirin. First, I need to figure out where the hell I am. Sitting takes more effort than opening my eyes did. Eventually, I make it to an upright position and take a better look at the room around me. Rubbing at my temple, trying to ease the pain lurking behind, my vision clears enough to take in everything around me.

I’m in some sort of apartment? Lush blue draperies hang from the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the corner unit. A crisp white state-of-the-art kitchen fills another corner of the room. The bed I’m lying in is situated on a platform, overlooking the entire space. Tacky and probably super expensive white couches face a ridiculously large flat screen tv hanging on the wall. Soft golden light filters in through the sheer fabric covering the windows. To my left, I spot two doors. Maybe one of them is an exit.

Standing, I take my time to make sure the throbbing in the back of my head doesn’t cause me to fall flat on my ass. Luckily, I’m able to stand without wiping out. My feet are bare, and the wood floor is cool against my skin.

What the actual fuck happened? How did I get here?

I was leaving for work and then…Braxton. He was at the house. He took me. But where did he take me? Is he here now?Shit, shit, shit.

Panic flares in every pore of my body and soul. Finding an exit has now jumped to the top of my to-do list, just above pissing myself in sheer terror.

Reaching for the first door along the wall, I fling it open. The pit of my stomach almost falls out my ass at the site of a large walk-in closet. Filled to the brim with expensive men’s clothing except for a small section along one side. Dresses and lingerie line the right wall of the closet. Moving on quickly to the next door, I’m not optimistic about the outcome. And my fears are immediately confirmed when I come face to face with the bathroom. A rather amazing luxurious spa bathroom that I wouldn’t mind taking advantage of in a less life-threatening situation. Right now, I couldn’t care less about the heated floors and fluffy towels. I need to find a way out.

There has to be a way out.I got in here somehow. There has to be a freaking door.The hot sting of tears fills my eyes, the salty evidence of my fear rolling down my cheeks in thick drops.This cannot be happening.

Searching the apartment, I tear through the pristine kitchen and find a narrow stairwell in the back corner.This has to be it. I don’t have time to think about anything but escaping this place, this beautiful prison.

Bounding up the stairs as fast as my short legs can carry me, I find a door. A door with no handle. Just a keypad asking for a ten-digit code. Who the hell uses a ten-digit code? Apparently, Braxton. Dammit. He may be an egotistical psychopath, but he’s a smart egotistical psychopath. I rack my brain, trying to think of what the code might be. But I got nothing. I don’t know him well enough to even begin to guess what it could be.

The tears are coming in rivers now. I can’t stop them. What am I going to do? Every nerve ending in my body begins to vibrate and hum with awareness. I’m trapped in this place. No knowledge of where I am, how long I’ve been here, or what Braxton will do to me when he returns.

The tiny hall begins to close in on me, threatening my sanity with its mocking grey walls.I have to get out. Running down the stairs and back into the main space of the apartment, my eyes shoot around, trying to latch on to something, anything to make sense of it all. Grasp onto some sense of sanity before I go mad trapped in this room.

A glinting ray of setting sun catches my eye through the window.The window. Maybe I can figure out where I am. Signal to someone outside to help me. My feet can’t move me fast enough to the windows—to my perceived escape. Looking out, I’m greeted with a long drop down to the street. I must be a good thirty stories up. It looks like a downtown area. I’ve never been in this city. It doesn’t look like anything in Huntersville. Where did he take me? How far have I gotten from my new home and family?

Cars file down the streets, looking like toy matchbox cars so far below me. Banging on the glass, I try to scream, which is useless at this level. No one will see or hear me up this high. But buildings are surrounding me. There must be people in there that might see me. Frantically I search the surrounding high rises. A few curtains and blinds are open, shadows of people shifting around inside. My heart nearly stops when directly across from me, I see a group of suit-clad people entering what looks like a conference room.

“Heeyyyyy! Heeellllpppp!” I scream and pound on the glass. My lungs burning with the exertion.

“HELP ME, PLEASE! HELP!”

They don’t hear me. Don’t even flinch. Then a man in a grey suit with blonde hair walks up to the window and looks out directly at me. I wave and jump. He might not be able to hear me, but he sure as hell should be able to see me this close.

While I jump and wave frantically like a madwoman, he still doesn’t react. Just stares off like there’s no one and nothing. Rubbing his hand across his stubbled face. How can he not see me? I have bright fucking red hair and am doing jumping jacks, for fucks sake.

A realization dawns on me, and I’m pretty sure I die a little inside. Not only is the building soundproof, but apparently, the exterior of the windows is coated in reflective film, making this a one-way window.

He can’t see me.

The thud of my body hitting the floor echoed through the silent space as I drop to my knees, completely drained. I barely feel the sting of pain.

I’m trapped here.

There’s no way out, and no one can see or hear me.

I’m going to die here.

That thought is what sticks with me for the next hour or hours. I don’t really know. The sun has set, and all the city lights below twinkle in the dark moonless night. The pit of my stomach feels hollow and empty. It probably is. Unsure of what day it is, I haven’t the faintest idea how long it’s been since I ate last. But I can’t move. I haven’t moved since my realization. Curled in a ball, sitting on the floor pressed up against the window, watching and hoping for something to change—for one of the dozens of businessmen in the office complex next door to see me and call the police. They never do. Never once does someone do a double-take in my direction or try to call out to me. No one waves at me or points. Nothing. No one knows I’m here, and no one ever will. Hiding in plain sight. Braxton is good. This is the last place anyone will look for me.

During one of the many pity parties I have sitting on this floor, my pondering is interrupted by a faint beeping and a swooshing noise. Like, a door sliding open and closed.Someone’s here.Braxton is here. The fear that had subsided into sadness and longing has returned in full force. Stark panic pushing buckets of adrenaline through my veins, giving me the energy to jump to my feet and position myself behind the couch with the windows at my back. There’s not enough time to try and run for the bathroom or the closet before the devil himself enters the room.

“Well, it’s nice to see you awake. I hope you’ve made yourself at home.” Braxton’s cocky condescending arrogance rattles my nerves. He’s all casual conversation, with his hands in his pockets, nose tilted up, not a care in the fucking world. Like, abducting a woman in broad daylight is an everyday thing for him.

“What do you want, Braxton?” I spit out while keeping poised to shift one way or the other to keep the couch between us. My only barrier against the beast in front of me.

“I’ve made it abundantly clear what I want, Clover. I want you.”

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