A Bedtime Story (3 page)

“Boston! He’s in Boston.” Devastated, she broke down, her body
barely supporting her. He grabbed her by the chin again and studied her features,
trying to read into them. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, her face
contorted in pain. She was a mess.

He knew from the torment reflected in her eyes, she told the truth.
Still, he asked, “Boston, are you sure?”

“Yes…” she wailed, her body shaking uncontrollably.

He left her side. The next thing she knew, she was alone in the
room. She could hear voices on the other side, as if Maxwell and Kayne were arguing,
their tones restrained.

They eventually reentered the room. Kayne walked straight to her,
determined, followed by Maxwell, venom dripping from his strained features. Kayne
briefly looked her in the eye then proceeded to unshackle her. She was confused.
Were they going to kill her now? But then why unshackle her? Kayne lifted her to her
feet with a firm hold, ignoring Maxwell’s presence.

“You’re coming with me,” he answered her questioning look as he
dragged her impatiently out of the room.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked softly, the fight in her long
gone.

“To my home. You’ll be under my supervision.” Sensing her
hesitation, he snapped at her, annoyed, “Unless you would prefer me to leave you
here?”

She shook her head vehemently in response.

“Good. Let’s go.” As they were about to pass through the door, he
stopped, turning to face her. “It’s a long drive. I expect you to behave. If you try
to reach out to anyone, even just to make eye contact, I will kill them. And you
will finish the ride in my trunk. Understood?”

She nodded, her eyes wide with alarm.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I understand,” she quivered.

He nodded his approval, smiled, and brushed her cheek with the back
of his hand. “Good girl.”

She remained perfectly still. If this gesture was meant to be
soothing, it had the total opposite effect. She felt her insides churn with
revulsion. To think that not so long ago, a couple of hours actually, the same touch
would have had her dreaming for days. That already seemed so long ago, like another
life, one that was never really hers. It was funny, she thought, this should feel
surreal, but it didn’t. Everything leading up to this ill-fated room was the dream.
The nice club, the flirtations with a handsome stranger, those were the illusion.
The nightmare that followed, that was reality.

He opened the passenger door for her and helped her in, always the
gentleman. The drive was quiet, the roads empty. Dawn was creeping in. It was past
five in the morning, and she was exhausted, but she refused to shut her eyes,
wanting to maintain some type of control, however small, in her life. About twenty
minutes into the drive, as she was losing her battle to fatigue, the sound of his
voice startled her.

“While you’re under my roof, there are three simple rules you need
to follow, the first you’ve already been warned of. Never lie to me. Never disobey
me. Never disrespect me.”

The warning snapped her senses fully awake, and she nodded her head
meekly in response.

“Here, wipe your face.” He handed her a tissue, which she
tentatively reached for. He then proceeded to place a call via the Bluetooth in his
car. A gentle female voice came on the speaker, with the unmistakable patient and
kind tone older women adopted when speaking to their offspring.

“Master Kayne.”

“Hi, Olga.” His voice was soft, in a way Laura didn’t think
possible. “Olga, please set up the bedroom in the eastern wing. We will have a…
guest
… staying with us…” He eyed Laura with an indiscernible smile.

“Yes, Master Kayne, anything else?”

“Yes. Please ask Lucas to set up the B security system.”

“Yes, Master Kayne. Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, Olga.” He was smiling to himself, a true warm
smile, like the million-dollar one he flashed her at the club.
So if it wasn’t
all an act, who was that man? She was getting a room?
That was a good thing,
she assumed, hopefully with a lock on the inside. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to
worry about her new living conditions before, she was so glad to be out of the
room.

They kept driving silently. Laura was looking out the window,
pondering about the meaningless life she led up to this point. Did she ever truly
live? And now it was too late. Worse than the fear of the life awaiting her, it was
the stab of knowing she was leaving nothing worthy behind that hurt the most.
Eventually she noticed a car fast approaching. For the two seconds they were side by
side, Laura chanced a side glance and noticed it was a woman at the wheel. Her heart
started racing.
Could she try anything?

“Don’t even think about it.” His calm voice conveyed the threat.
“Of course I’ll think about it!” she snapped back before she could think her
response through.

“Careful, Laura…”

“Well… you said to be honest…”

He gave her a long measured look, a smile curving on his lips. “I
also said to be respectful. Watch your tone.” His voice was stern, but she could
feel the smile he repressed.

The sun had risen by the time he finally turned into a long
cobblestone driveway with cedars planted on each side. It was an imposing estate in
a very secluded area. They passed electronically controlled gates, to continue the
long drive up to a huge white stone mansion. Men dressed in black, not unlike the
ones she had seen earlier, were spread throughout the premises. Kayne turned to face
her and with the same sweet smile announced, “Here it is, home sweet home.”

He got out and once again walked over to her side,
opening her door and offering his hand.

She remained frozen in place.

“Get out,” he ordered, all traces of the sweet smile evaporating
into thin air.

She gave him a feeble hand, but when her feet hit the ground, they
refused to move. She knew, once she entered this house, she would never leave.
Impatiently, he dragged her forward. She stumbled, her knees weak, her ankle still
torturing her at the smallest bit of pressure. Kayne wrapped his right arm around
her back, keeping his left hand firmly gripped to her arm. They climbed the few
marble steps leading to the massive French doors at the main entrance where one of
the security men held the door open for them. They walked in to an opulent vast
room, high ceilings and all. A slightly overweight older woman in uniform was
waiting for them. She had greying hair tied in a low bun, and her fingers were laced
in front of her, as she offered them a kind smile.

“Master Kayne.” She respectfully bowed her head.

“Olga, this is Laura Spencer. She will be staying with us.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Spencer.” Her smile seemed genuine, but she
showed no reaction to Laura’s pathetic appearance. Laura would not find an ally in
her.

Unsure how to react, she nodded quietly. It was in this moment that
the absurdity of it all started to dawn on her. This was it, it was really
happening. But she wasn’t freaking out, she just felt numb.

“Laura, this is Olga. I trust her with my life. While I am not
here, she will see to anything you may need.” He looked at his watch. “She’ll show
you around tomorrow. Feel free to go wherever you want and use anything at your
disposal on the first floor. Just don’t go downstairs, upstairs, or outside without
my direct consent. Understood?”

She nodded again, her stare blank.

“There is no Internet. The phone lines will connect
you to Lucas, my head of security. If there is an emergency, simply dial 
9
.
You will not be able to make any other type of calls. There is security outside the
house ’round the clock and cameras in every direction. All the windows and outside
doors are equipped with alarms. My men were given my instructions. Please don’t try
anything stupid… I think that about covers it for now.” He paused then surprised her
by adding, “Are you hungry?”

She wasn’t hungry, just tired, so incredibly tired. All she wanted
was to curl into a ball, cry herself to sleep, and hopefully never wake up.

O
lga led her to her room. It was very
pretty, and girly. A woman had obviously lived there, a woman with expensive and
elegant taste.
Who was this woman? Where was she now?

Olga politely asked her if she would need anything else before
excusing herself and closing the door. The door did have a lock, but the old style,
with a key, which Laura doubted would ever be given to her. It could have been
worse. She felt an urge to investigate her new living space, but her tiredness took
over in one swift wave. She barely had the strength to kick off her heels before
collapsing on the big fluffy bed, still wearing the grey chiffon dress.

She slept deeply and had many dreams, mostly about her childhood,
mostly about Peter. By the time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky. She opened
and shut her eyes a few times. She had almost forgotten… She decided she would not
move from the bed. She would stay there, right on that spot, and not move a muscle
until she died. The thought almost made her smile.

Olga came in a short while later, pushing a metal trolley bursting
with appetizing scents. “Ah, Miss Spencer, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I hope you
slept well. I would have knocked, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

Laura barely moved her head in her direction, tucking the sheet
further up to her neck.

“Well, I don’t want to disturb you. Master Kayne will be home for
supper. It will be served at seven, but I thought you might be a little hungry.”

Laura cringed at the mention of his name. How could this woman seem
so casual about the situation? Did she not know who her employer was? He was
obviously part of a criminal organization.
Did she not care? Was she
some type of Mafia-wife nanny turning the blind eye?

“Supper…? What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice raspy from
sleep.

“Four thirty in the afternoon.” Olga was always smiling that kind
smile of hers.

“Uh, okay, thank you.”

“Well, if you won’t be needing anything else, I will be in the
kitchen. I can come back later if you like and give you the tour?” “No, thank you.
I’d rather stay in here, if that’s okay.” Laura wasn’t rude, just cautious. A small
part of her, her apparently very off intuition, led her to trust the woman, while
every other logical and pragmatic part of her screamed
caution
.

“As you wish.” Olga smiled again before heading out, leaving the
trolley in the room.

Laura was weary to touch the food. What if it was drugged? But what
would be the alternative, starve to death? She actually considered the option for a
moment, but dieting was never her strong suit. She seriously questioned her
willpower in the face of famine.

She slowly made her way out of bed, as if being observed, careful
with every move. Her ankle was still swollen and hurt the moment she tried to stand
on it. She limped to the trolley and dragged it close to the bed to sit back down.
The bed was safe, she had claimed it. The rest of the room was still hostile
territory.

She opened the metal dome to find eggs Benedict. She would have
usually been thrilled, but her stomach turned at the first bite. It was too heavy,
and her fragile nerves were affecting her appetite. She closed the dome, subdued,
and crawled back under the sheets. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She closed
her eyes and waited for sleep to come again.

It was six fifty when Olga come to fetch her. Laura had finally
taken notice of the grandfather clock in her bedroom. She had spent the day between
the bed and the en suite luxurious marble
bathroom, which had proved
very useful after she got sick repeatedly, dry heaving into the toilet.

Olga rapped gently at the door. “Miss Spencer?”

“Yes…”

Opening the door halfway, just enough to peek her head through,
Olga took care not to enter the room. “I just wanted to tell you that supper will be
ready in ten minutes, in case you need to get prepared. I will come back in a few
minutes to take you to the dining area.”

“Actually, can I stay here, if that’s okay? I’m not really hungry.
I don’t feel very good. I’d rather stay in bed.”

“Oh? Is something wrong? Can I get you anything?”

“No, no, thank you. I would just like to sleep.”

“Very well. I’ll advise Master Kayne you are feeling ill.” Her
words feigned concern, but her tone seemed anxious, if not vexed.

***

Olga hurried apprehensively to the master of the house. She was all
too aware of his bad temper; you simply did
not
disobey Kayne Malkin. He had
inherited his mother’s wild Italian temper. Thankfully he also possessed her good
humor, some of her kindness, and all of her charm. His father’s heritage was more
sinister. From him, Kayne got his eyes and good looks, his ability to manipulate,
his need to dominate, and his very blurry sense of morality. Lev Malkin was of
Russian origin, born in his homeland. He had left his country at a young age to
immigrate to Canada with nothing but a picture of his family and the clothes on his
back, as was most often the case in those days. He was a serious man, cold and
calculating, even heartless when needed. Yet he was fair. He looked after his own,
rewarded loyalty generously, and dealt with betrayal swiftly. He followed his own
code of ethics and didn’t make any exceptions or excuses,
for anyone
.

He soon found out how to put those traits to good
use and rose quickly to high ranks in the Organization. They didn’t have a name,
though members referred to it as
the Family
. Lev met and impressed the right
people. Though mostly composed of Russian expats, the Organization saw its members
diversify over the years. Its core and highest positions, however, remained
exclusively in the grasp of the
true blood
, Russian born, or descendants. In
this strange new land, they flocked to each other and looked out for their own. When
Lev met Olga, she had nowhere to go. He took her in and gave her a job. He was a
fair employer, strict, demanding, but never inappropriate. That alone earned him her
complicit silence.

When he met Kayne’s mother a few years later, it was love at first
sight. It took him over a year to convince the beautiful Italian student to give him
the time of day, but eventually, he succeeded. He always got what he wanted. They
had a whirlwind romance and were married within the year. A beautiful boy followed.
How Olga loved that boy, that quiet boy, so determined, even at a young age.

Olga knew, she didn’t delude herself about what type of man that
boy grew up to be. But she loved him as a son. He was the only son she ever knew,
and she was the only mother he’d ever have. She watched him grow up, shaped in his
father’s mold. Lev would have been proud. Kayne was ruthless, calculating, and
cautious, never flashy. And yet he could still show kindness, and that by itself was
a miracle. When his mother died, he was still a toddler, and Olga knew right then
that she would never give up on him, that she would always love him, no matter what.
If his father earned her loyalty to the Organization, the boy ensured her devotion
to the Malkins.

He was already sitting at the dining table, head hanging back and
eyes closed when Olga walked in.

“Master Kayne…”

He opened his eyes tiredly and his stare immediately darkened,
sensing her nervousness. “Where is she?” he snapped.

“That’s the thing… She says she is not feeling well…
She asked to stay in her room to rest.”

“Did she now…” He exhaled slowly, bemused, tapping the fork
absentmindedly against the table.

“You technically haven’t requested her presence, and she
did
ask if it was okay…”

He looked her straight in the eye, he knew where this was going.
She was pleading her case to avoid her any reprisal. He had already known when he
brought her to the house that Olga would take her under her wing. She had always
been the nurturing type, and he loved her for it. He wasn’t even sure he even knew
what love was, but what he felt for Olga was probably the closest thing. He gave her
an indulgent smile.

“Fine, let her be.”

Olga smiled at him gratefully, approvingly, and excused herself. He
ate alone, reviewing the events of the past twenty-four hours in his head. He
wondered when his mind changed. She wasn’t the first pretty girl he delivered to the
wolves.
Hell, he had done far worse
. What was different that time? He
surprised himself; he took a big risk for her. Maxwell was not happy about the
arrangement at all, but Maxwell was not to be worried about. Though he had gained
considerable power and prestige in the Organization over the past years, Kayne still
outranked him. Dimitri Drugov, the big boss and the only one above him, was the
worrisome one. If he couldn’t convince him, it would not end well, for anybody.

Why couldn’t he just leave her in the room? She would have talked,
he had no doubt. He thought back to her big teary eyes supplicating him quietly,
desperately, and he could feel himself harden. No, he hadn’t saved her out of mercy.
He saved her because he wanted to be the one to make her cry and beg. He saved her
so he could be the one to break her and have her in all the ways he wanted. But
first she would have to surrender, willingly, and he would have to make her. He
wondered if it was even possible at all considering the situation. Kayne had never
personally held a woman captive before. But she was attracted
to him.
He smiled to himself as he replayed scenes from the club in his head, remembering
her bashful ways, her nervousness. He would just need to buy himself some time, but
he would have her, powerless and at his mercy.

***

It was past one in the morning when Laura woke up with her stomach
growling. She got up and paced in her room a little, eyeing the door hesitantly. Her
ankle was feeling a little better. She decided on conquering her quarters before
venturing further in the house to appease her hunger. The closets and drawers were
bursting with all types of clothing, from casual to formal wear, most with the tag
still on and in her size. The vanity contained all the beauty supplies a girl could
ever need. She wondered if they were purchased for her, but that couldn’t be. He
never meant to bring her back to his home. He was ready to walk out on her in that
room. She wondered if she would still be alive if he had. Would she be mutilated?
How much pain would she have endured? She shuddered at the thought. Her hands were
still shaking when she finally reached for a pair of comfortable grey sweat pants
and a cozy purple hoodie. Her eyes fell back to the clothes, and she wondered what
fate had befallen the mysterious tenant.

Laura lingered behind the closed door for a few more minutes,
gathering courage before she cautiously pulled the handle. It swayed open without a
sound. The house seemed deserted, all the lights off. She breathed a little easier
at the observation as she tiptoed down the hall, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
Passing a few closed doors on each side, she finally made her way back to the grand
entrance area containing the double stairs leading to the ominous upper level.
Anything beyond that point was stepping into new territory. But he said she could go
as she pleased on the first floor, and so she reassured herself that she wasn’t
breaking any rules. The affirmation, along with her howling stomach, strengthened
her resolve. She marched on, in her quest to find the much-sought-after kitchen,
regretting for a moment turning down Olga’s offer of giving her the tour. The truth
was, she was just too terrified of running into him.

The kitchen was fortunately right behind the wall,
to what she presumed was the western wing. It was huge, with the big marble island
and countertops displayed in all the magazine kitchens. It had an open concept
layout with a spacious dining area in the front. It was dimly lit by spotlights in
the ceiling. She rejoiced in her small victory and headed to the double-door
stainless fridge to reap the fruits of her conquest. It was packed full. She didn’t
want to move too many things and risk waking someone with the noise. Clumsy as she
was, better safe than sorry. She opted for the first loaf of bread she saw,
carefully taking out a slice from the package, grabbed a piece of ham, and thanked
her luck when she found plates in the first cupboard she opened. As silently and
swiftly as possible, she slapped the piece of ham on the bread and headed out of the
kitchen, looking back to ensure she left no trace of her nighttime excursion.

The lights suddenly shone to their full brightness as she found
herself face-to-face with
him
. Startled, she let out a scream, dropping the
plate to the floor. It shattered at her feet, her nerves crumbling along with the
porcelain plate.

“I’m so sorry, you startled me. I… I’m really sorry. I’ll clean it
up.” She bent down to pick up the mess she just created.

“Leave it.”

She looked up, terrified for an instant, and obeyed, remaining
still with her eyes nervously traveling from his face to the floor. His expression
was hard to read, though he didn’t seem angry. He looked down at the mess, then back
at her in one slow motion.

“So… of all the choices, you went for a ham sandwich?” he asked
her, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile.

“I didn’t want to make noise and disturb anyone…”

“Relax, have a seat.” He pointed to one of the stools with a tilt
of his head. “Let’s see if we can fix you a little something.” He walked leisurely
to the fridge and opened the door to consider the available options.

She hurried to the stool, sitting with her back straight and her
hands properly crossed on her lap. Good girls with proper
manners
were always treated better, she recalled her second-grade teacher saying. She was a
good girl. She would always do what she’s told, always looked to compromise and
please, hoping her fate would be the better for it.