Page 44 of The Assistant
By the time I’m done with that, it’s nearly lunchtime, and I can hear Maggie in the kitchen preparing something for me even though I didn’t request it. I’m about to head outside and tell her not to bother—I can just make myself a sandwich—when the doorbell rings.
“I’ve got it!” Maggie shouts through the penthouse. I slip on my heels just in case it’s Dawson forgetting his keys or something. Ever since I’ve been here, we haven’t had any visitors. Henry hasn’t even come to say hi.
Just a moment after Maggie shouts about the door, she lets out a shrill scream that makes my blood curdle. I’m frozen for a moment, but I quickly kick my ass in gear to see what’s going on. Maggie is older, and I don’t know how well she would fare in a fight if something bad were to happen. I can’t let her face whatever this is alone.
I’m faced with immediate regret when I open my bedroom door to see Maggie on the ground, a wound on her head bleeding, as she lies on the ground unconscious. Three large men stand around her with scowls on their faces as their eyes scan the room. The one in the center looks at me and whispers something under his breath to the others.
I know I have to run. I immediately turn around and slam the door to my bedroom shut, hoping it might be enough to keep them at bay. I’m about to run to the window and attempt to lock myself out on the balcony to call for help, but before I can even cross the room, the door is kicked down.
Everything happens too quickly. One of the men grabs my arms, and I struggle against him, flailing my body around to try to wiggle away. Then another one comes and helps him, slapping duct tape over my mouth so tightly I can barely breathe. Zip ties are wrapped around my wrists to keep me from fighting back.
I try to scream, but my voice is muffled. With nobody else on the floor of the penthouse but me and Maggie, it’s no use, anyway. My only hope now is that somebody sees what’s happening when we leave, and they call the police to help me.
The men drag me out of the penthouse, and I expect them to lead me toward the elevator I usually take, but they don’t. Instead, they lead me to the stairwell and lift me up to carry me down. After a few floors, we come across a rooftop exit, and we leave.They lower the fire escape and carry me down. That’s when I see the black SUV parked in the alley waiting for me.
This isn’t some random attempt. This was carefully planned and thought out. My stomach twists thinking about what this is.
Eventually, I’m thrown in the SUV, and a blindfold is put over my eyes that I can’t fight against. Nobody says anything as we drive. Even though I can’t see where we’re going, I try to focus on what turns the driver makes. Maybe if I can memorize some sort of route, I can escape and find my way back.
I don’t know how much time passes, but we eventually stop, and my blindfold is taken off to reveal a sprawling mansion my mother would quite literally kill to set eyes on. A few other black SUVs are parked outside, and I search for any sign of where I am.
I muffle against the duct tape questions I know will go unanswered. The men bring me inside, and I’m dragged through the opulent entryway toward the back of the house. I look for any family portraits or identifiers of who this house belongs to but find none.
I’m eventually brought to a bedroom with several people already here, seemingly waiting for me. There’s a bed in the center with an array of doctors’ tools lined up on the nightstand. A man, who I presume is the doctor, wearing gloves and a surgical mask, watches me as the men drag me to the bed and tie me down.
My heart sinks when I see Malik for the first time, standing in the corner, watching with a stoic look on his face. He doesn’t seem to take any amusement in this, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that he gave this order. This was all his doing.
“What’s going on?” I scream against the duct tape. They don’t hear those words, but they understand what I’m asking.
“I’m here to witness your examination,” Malik says as he takes a few steps forward and gives a nod to the doctor to begin.
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and before any explanation is given, my skirt is cut off me, and I’m stripped naked from the waist down. My skin burns, and I try to close my legs and hide myself because I know something terrible is about to happen. All I can think about are all the true crime stories I’ve heard about the things that happened to women around men like this.
Malik nods, and two of the guards walk around the bed to grab my legs and hold them still while the doctor positions himself between them. He grabs some of the tools at his bedside, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he begins his exam.
I feel the heat of the tears streaming down my face, and I wish I could stop them. People like Malik get off on this fear, and I don’t want to give that to him, but I can’t control it.
The exam is quick, which I’m thankful for. The doctor moves away and looks at Malik, shaking his head subtly. Malik lets out a long sigh and stares at me with a disappointed, almost angry, look in his eyes.
“That is unfortunate for you,” Malik says as he walks out of the room, instructing the guards holding me to follow him out.
I’m left alone in the room, my hands tied to the bedpost. Never in my life have I been more afraid.
Chapter 23
Dawson
I hangup the phone and pinch my forehead to fight the budding migraine after talking to Oliver Tegan for the past hour, constantly apologizing about canceling on Wednesday. When I’m done, I take a look at the work schedule for Harper, just to check in on her.
Before the meeting, I sent her a few tasks to do because I noticed she’d practically caught up on everything already. Yes, she probably deserves a little bit of a break. But she’s not here right now, and this is how I can make sure everything is going smoothly back at the penthouse.
The tasks I assigned are unfinished, which is odd. Harper was already caught up before I gave those tasks, and they shouldn’t have taken any longer than forty-five minutes. I look at our text messages and see the message I sent letting her know about these tasks hasn’t been read yet.
My heart beats faster as I call her cell, hoping to hear her voice and set my mind at ease. It rings and rings, then it goes straight to her voicemail. I don’t leave a message and immediately call again. No answer.
“What the fuck?” I whisper under my breath as I stand up and call the penthouse. If she’s not answering her cell phone, maybe it died or fell in the toilet. I wouldn’t put dropping her phone in the toilet past Harper.
Once again, there’s no answer. Not even from Maggie, who always answers the phone at the penthouse.
