There had to be a way that I could protect my aunt without staying here. We could run away, go into hiding. But that sprang the question, what kind of life would that leave my aunt with? And if we were to get caught, I’d probably end up right where I didn’t want to be. I hated that I was even thinking about escaping, straight away I’d be risking not only my own life but poor Carol’s too.
I felt myself deflate, disappointed that, at least for the time being, I wasn’t actually willing to risk it all. I didn’t know if that would change over time, the longer I spent locked away in my stone tower. There might’ve been a tolerance threshold that I wasn’t aware of, but only time would tell.
In books and in movies, the heroine was always rescued by her friends or her Prince Charming. But who would rescue the heroine who literally had one ageing aunt and a shitty landlord? Had my boss even realized I hadn’t come into work? Who would rescue the heroine who had no one?
“Heather, will you please go check on Anastasia? I know you told her to get ready, but she’s not come down yet. Please tell her that if she’s not down here within the next five minutes, I’ll be coming up to get her myself.” It needed to be made clear to Anastasia that if she was going to act like a toddler I would treat her as such.
This behavior would not be tolerated.
“Absolutely.” Heather shuffled upstairs as the doorbell rang in the foyer behind me. I shouted out that I would get it. Although I didn’t know why - it wasn’t like there was anybody else around.
“Finch. You’re early.”
“I decided not to waste time by going home first, I came straight from the office.” He stepped through, his eyes wandering. “Besides, I got that list that you asked for, although I’m curious as to why you needed it.”
Ah.
When I rang my brother earlier in the day to ask for information on everyone Anton had been working with, I had kept tight-lipped as to why I needed it. While I truly believed that Finch wouldn’t have had anything to do with Anton’s murder, the fewer people that knew that I was looking into it, the better.
“Just double-checking on something. Wouldn’t want any loose ends.” He nodded as if knowing exactly what I was talking about. He didn’t but that was for the best. We stepped through to the living room, but I stopped short when Heather called me back from the bottom of the stairs.
“Excuse me. Make yourself a drink.” I left my brother to find his way around and crossed the room.
“She won’t come down,” Heather whispered as to not to draw my brother’s attention.
“And you told her what I said?” I asked. Heather nodded, looking rather contrite. She had been my maid for years, she knew my temperament when I didn’t get my way.
“Fine, the hard way it is,” I mumbled to myself as I climbed the stairs two at a time.
She wanted to misbehave.
She wanted to disobey me.
If she were anyone else I’d have been furious. But her little rebellion didn’t incur my normal feelings of anger. Her stunt had riled me in a different way than I had expected. In a way that would be sure to scare her more than my anger ever would.
I flung open the door to the guest room to see Anastasia sitting in the same exact chair I had her cuffed to just yesterday. She was reading. Well, I had to be thankful she was seated on the chair and not hurling it at me.
Small victories, I supposed.
“Why are you not ready? I’ve been waiting for you, and now my brother is downstairs waiting for both of us.”
“I’m not moving from this chair.” She flicked the page of her book, her eyes glued to the damn thing. She was the picture of aloof serenity. I had a fight ahead of me. I kicked the door shut behind me and began toward the closet. As she was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, it would indeed be up to me to choose tonight's outfit - something I wasn’t entirely upset about. I had chosen the clothes that Heather had given her over the last few weeks since Anton’s death. I didn’t want Anastasia to know this of course, but I had put some degree of planning into wooing her.
“You need to remember that while you may hate me, Anastasia, this dinner was not my idea.” It was a small lie, one I hoped she wouldn’t pick up on. “My brother, Finch, thought it would be a good idea for you to see that I’m not a complete monster. I wouldn’t have phrased it that way but apparently I can’t be objective on the subject.” It seemed like there were more clothes in the closet than I had bought… Where was it?
“I did agree with him that your transition here may go smoother if you’re made to feel at ease, and my brothers will definitely help with that.” I took a deep calming breath, I placed the dress on the bed beside the chair and moved to stand in front of her. I pleaded with her. “Now, for the life of me please, just get ready.”
I waited. Watched on as she lowered her book and braced myself.
“Wow.” Anastasia’s luscious blue eyes pierced into mine. She shook her head slowly, as if in disbelief at my long-winded begging. Shock, I suppose, at everything that I’d just said.
“I assume you object?” My eyebrow raised in question. She still hadn’t bothered to move. I knew she wasn’t going to come easily and that was fine because it meant I’d have to use force.
What a privilege that would’ve been.
“Of course, but what would that get me?” she asked rhetorically. “You think forcing me to go downstairs and sit in a room with a bunch of strange men will help calm my nerves? I guess wearing a sharp suit doesn’t automatically make you the smartest tack in the toolbox.” Her eyes rolled down my body, taking in my perfectly tailored, pinstripe navy suit. The look of appreciation on her face had me almost forgetting the plain as day insult. With her gritted teeth, I could tell she’d tried to school her features but I loved that she couldn’t. She wanted me. On some level. I knew it.
“That’s it. You refuse to get dressed, you refuse to come downstairs. You’re mistaken if you think you have a choice.” I leaned forward and encased her narrow wrists in my much larger hands to pull her out of the chair.
