Bathroom? Every place has a bathroom. Maybe there’s a window there, or a vent.
Before I can refine the thought, Ivan leans forward again, his eyes locking onto mine…
“Listen carefully, Landon,” I van says, his voice a low rumble. “There are rules here. You obey me at all times. No questions,no arguments. No contact with the outside world. That means no phones, no signals, nothing. And you never, ever attempt to escape. Break any of these, and there will be consequences. Understand?”
Consequences. The word hangs in the air, implying things I don’t want to imagine.
I nod sullenly, staring into my glass.
This isn’t good. Not at all.
I’m trapped with a man who could crush me without effort, in a penthouse fortress, all because of my father’s world bleeding into mine.
But I won’t just sit here and wait to be ransomed or... worse.
I have to find a way out.
And the sooner, the better.
Time crawls. I’ve got my thoughts, and not much else.
Ivan doesn’t talk much—he just sits there, occasionally checking a phone or pouring himself another drink from the bar.
Vodka, I think. I make a note of how much he drinks, realizing that if he gets sloppy with one shot too many, that could give me a chance to make a move.
The penthouse is eerily quiet, save for the low buzz of the aircon. I pace a little, testing the boundaries, but he watches every move. No openings yet.
My head still aches, and I feel grimy from the night—sweat, fear, whatever.
A shower might clear my mind, give me space to think.
And privacy? Maybe that will give me the space I need to really get my brain in gear.
“Can I go for a shower?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “To freshen up, at least? I feeldisgusting. Trust me, you don’t want to smell me right now.”
Ivan considers it, then nods.
“Okay. The large bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left. Towels inside.”
I stand, smoothing my clothes, still the same outfit from last night, wrinkled and uncomfortable.
“And you’ll leave me alone, right?” I ask. “I need some dignity here. I’m not showering with you lurking or peeping.”
Ivan’s eyes narrow, but he shrugs.
“Fine,” he says. “But don’t take too long. And remember the rules. Do not fuck with me, boy. There will be consequences if you do, believe me.”
I nod, heart pounding as I walk down the hall.
The bathroom is as luxurious as the rest—marble counters, a rainfall showerhead, stocked with high-end soaps and shampoos. I lock the door behind me, testing it. It’s solid, but no deadbolt.
Still, it’s something.
Anything to give me just enough privacy to put some kind of plan in place at the very least.
First things first: scan for escape.
The window is small, frosted, and sealed shut—no latch.
