When no one jumps out at me to scold me, I bolt upstairs to my room and close the door. My hands are shaking slightly when I navigate through the phone to the dial pad. It looks like a backup phone of some kind. Maybe it belongs to the security team. Right now, I don’t care. I just need to be quick enough to have a chance to call my brother before I put it back and hope no one notices.
I punch in his number and wait for the line to connect. It rings. It rings again and again, and my stomach knots tighten and tighter. My eyes are locked on the closed door, waiting for it to burst open and for one of the men to rush in.
“Hello…”
“Misha!” My heart leaps, then sinks.
“This is Misha, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Dammit.
I wait for the voice recording to end so I can leave a message. I have no choice. I’m not even sure if he checks his voicemail, but I have to try.
“Misha, it’s me. It’s Maria. I’m in Chicago. I was taken. I think I can slip out. Can you meet me at the Forster Avenue Pier? I’ll be there at sunset. Please, please come.”
I select yes when it asks me if I’m happy with my message. Maybe I should have explained more. Anyway, all I can hope now is that he’s there tonight. He can arrange a flight for me to get home. He can come and fetch me. I know my brother. He will fix this. He will help me.
Hanging up, I delete the call from the phone’s history. Then I slip the phone back into my pocket. Now the challenge is to put it back without anyone seeing me.
Instead of delaying it, I hurry right back down to the kitchen. When I get there, Kaz is there, making a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Hello,” I say, hoping my voice sounds more relaxed to him than it does to me.
“Hello, baby bird, are you hungry? Can I make you something?” he asks, glancing at me and letting his eyes drift up and down my body.
I smile and nod. “Yes, actually. It smells pretty good. I’ll have the same as whatever you’re having,” I reply, thinking that if he’s busy, I might get a chance to return the phone to the position I found it in. I was even careful to note the way it lay.
“I’d love to cook for you,” he winks, and again, as always, I know he’s using his remark as a euphemism for something else. Something kinky.
His constant flirtatious playfulness is fun, except it often feels fake. Or like he’s only flirting to avoid having a real conversation with me because he doesn’t know how to talk to me.
I imagine he flirts with literally every single woman he comes in contact with, so it certainly doesn’t make me feel special in any way.
Kazimir walks over to the fridge and tugs it open. He ducks inside, gathering ingredients, and I steal the chance. Hurriedly, almost dropping the phone, I slip it back onto the corner of the counter near the wall, face down, slightly turned.
Looking back at him, he’s still focused on the fridge.
Thank goodness. I did it. It’s done.
Now I have to find a way to get out of this mansion and make it to the pier at sunset.
***
Kazimir leans against the kitchen counter with a lazy smile on his face and his eyes hooded, watching me as I bite into the grilled cheese.
“And?” he asks eagerly.
“Oh wow, that’s amazing,” I mumble with food in my mouth and my hand covering my lips.
“I told you, the secret is in the spice,” he says, impressed with himself.
Hovering in the kitchen to eat with him, we chat about random things, but he’s still flirtatious and suggestive. My mind is racing with ways to get out while I try to pay attention and not act aloof with him.
After our little kitchen brunch, I mutter something about reading and excuse myself. At least Kazimir is nice to me. He might be overly forward, but it’s better than how Artur treats me.
It’s interesting how each of them behaves around me.
Kaz, the flirtatious bad boy, is always playful, never serious.
