Page 83 of Selfish Desires

Stephen flashed a sick smile. His arm flung around from his back, swinging in my direction. I flinched, and a sting shot through my neck. I hadn’t a clue what was happening or what hit me, but soon, the world started to fade.

“Wha... Stephen?” My words slurred as my vision became blurry. I felt myself swaying, and in a final desperate attempt to fight the oncoming darkness, I reached for Stephen.

But he was no longer there. Or maybe he had never been with me at all. Heavy as lead, my legs crumbled beneath me as I fell onto the cold cobblestone.

As my consciousness slipped away, I saw a figure standing over me, a figure bearing an uncanny resemblance to Stephen. But his face was twisted into a cruel grin that was nothing like the warmth I was used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight, Wendy.” His laughter echoed in my ears as everything went black.

When I woke up, the world was spinning. My body felt heavy and uncooperative as I tried to push myself up. My vision was blurry, but slowly began to refocus. And then it hit me: I was sitting up with my wrists bound behind me to a wood-rickety chair. I squinted into the dimmed hanging light, swinging a few feet above my head. The room was bare, except for a singular table, holding items I couldn't quite make out from where I was bound. I noticed what resembled a wooden door across from me. It was old and worn, much like the chair confining me. The room was eerily silent, save for the occasional creak of the structure settling or the distant murmur of traffic filtering in through what must have been a small window somewhere behind me.

And then the snoring pierced the quiet. I gasped and whipped my head to the right where the sound originated and nearly toppled over when I saw Vincent passed out, tied to a similar chair, his head tilted back and mouth agape with light snores escaping. I almost smirked when I spotted his casual black suit. So typical of Vincent. Always dressed for the occasion.

I glanced over at Vincent, trying to make sense of the situation. His hair was a mess, a shadow of stubble covered his jawline, and he bore a nasty bruise on his forehead. Questions raced through my mind, each one more baffling than the last.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, casting a shaft of light onto the cold floor. I squinted against the glare and saw Stephen’s silhouette filling the doorway. He stood there momentarily, allowing us to make out his figure, then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“It's good to see you awake,” Stephen said with a voice that chilled me to the bone. His tone wasn’t threatening, his words neither cruel nor kind. It was the indifference that struck fear deep into my heart.

“What do you want?” I forced out, trying to keep my voice steady.

Stephen ignored my question. “Sleep well?” he asked Vincent, who was slowly waking up, disoriented.

Vincent glanced at me before turning to Stephen, surprise flashing in his eyes briefly before being replaced by a hardened determination. “Let her go,” he demanded, his voice gravelly and pained.

Stephen chuckled dryly as he pulled a chair from under the table and sat across from us. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would I do that? Why would I give you something you wanted? That would be way too nice of me. Plus, both of you owe me.”

“We don't owe you anything,” I snapped.

A dangerous smile crept onto Stephen's face, making my skin crawl. “Oh, Wendy, you couldn't be more wrong.”

I wished I could lunge at him, but I simply sat there immobilized. My gaze flickered back to Vincent, who had now fully awakened. He looked at me, concern etching onto his features as he surveyed my condition. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t see the businessman Vincent was, but rather the man I fell in love with years ago.

Vincent’s eyes turned cold, and he shot Stephen a threatening glare. “If you hurt her, I swear to God?—"

“You'll what?” interrupted Stephen. “You're not exactly in a position to make threats, are you?” A malicious grin spread across Stephen’s face as he stood and stalked toward us.

As he approached, I braced myself for whatever might come next. My heartbeat drummed in my ears; it was deafening and persistent, like a hammer slamming down on a nail. But then, just as quickly as the fear had surged within me, it began to subside. I took a deep breath and locked my gaze with Vincent’s. He gave me a subtle nod, an assurance that we would get through this together. That was when I realized that maybe things weren't as hopeless as they seemed. Maybe we did stand a chance.

Stephen stopped inches from our tied bodies, standing dead center, his eyes darting back and forth between us.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Vincent snarled.

“I’m just trying to figure out which one of you I should kill first.” Stephen rocked on his heels, casual as ever, sending a quick chill down my spine. And I believed every word. I believed this was the end and wasn’t okay with it.

“You’re not killing anyone. And I swear, if you hurt Wendy, you’re a dead man,” Vincent warned, tugging against his restraints.

Stephen stared at Vincent before bursting out laughing and slapping his thighs like a madman.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my eyes begging Stephen to crossover to the humane way of handling an issue and not murder.

“Just let Wendy go, and you can do whatever the fuck you want with me,” Vincent spat, thrashing against the ropes holding him down.

“First, allow me to introduce myself.” Stephen pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m Stephen Cartwright, a pleasure to meet you both,” he said with a mock bow, his sardonic grin never faltering. His eyes glowed with sadistic delight, making my stomach churn violently.

Vincent’s eyes blazed with fury, the muscles in his jaw working overtime as he gritted his teeth. “I don’t give a fuck who you are!” he growled. “Let Wendy go now!”

Stephen chuckled, his laugh hollow and echoing in the cold room. “Now, why would I do that?” Stephen winked. “After all, it's not every day I have two star-crossed lovers indebted to me.”

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