Page 93 of Forever Mr Black

I dare not scream or try to run because of what he’s threatened to do. The unhinged look in his eye tells me he’s not bluffing. But I can’t just go along with this. I need to try something. As we round the final landing and carry on down the last staircase to the lobby, I conjure up a plan. I’ll attract the attention of the concierge; I’m not sure how, but I will. Then, he’ll know something’s amiss.

But as we reach the bottom of the staircase, my hopes are instantly dashed.

The concierge is distracted, talking on the telephone and looking down at the desk as we walk on by. I doubt he’s even noticed us leave.

Shit!

There’s no one outside on the street either. No passing stranger who I can at least try to flash my eyes at and get their attention. I’m steered around the corner to a white transit van parked on the side street.

Theo yanks open the sliding door, grips the back of my head, and pushes me forward. “Get in.”

I step up into the van and duck my head to avoid hitting it on the rusty roof.

His lips curl at the sight of me hunched over in the back of the van. “Sit down.”

The door slams behind me, and I’m in darkness. I more or less collapse onto the floor of the van and shuffle backwards on my bum to lean against one of the sides. There’s more slamming, and then Theo climbs into the driver’s seat, and we pull away.

I close my eyes, trying to count the number of left and right turns the van takes to make sense of where we’re going. But after a while, I lose track. The longer we drive, the more the thought of Art finding me rapidly dwindles. Eventually, the van stops, and the door slides open.

Twenty-Eight

“Out,” Theo demands. The knife glints in his hand, reminding me not to try and make a run for it.

I shuffle forward but sense his impatience as he glances up and down the street. I’m clearly not moving fast enough.

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me forward, making me stumble out onto the street. It’s getting dark, which tells me we’ve been driving longer than I thought. Which means I’m farther away from home than I thought.

My heart sinks.

I glance about for any clues, but I don’t see any. We’re outside a red brick building with a black door and silver keypad on the wall. Theo puts one arm around my waist and hurriedly punches in a code. The door opens with a click. I catch a glimpse of a silver plaque on the wall above the keypad, but I don’t have enough time to read it as he yanks me through the door, keen to get me off the street.

A single flight of stairs leads upwards to a door.

Once the door from the street shuts, he releases his painfully tight grip of my hip and nudges me forwards. “Ladies first.”

I glare at him and am about to tell him to go fuck himself when he pulls the knife from his pocket.

He waves it in the direction of the stairs. “Come along, Sophie. Hurry the fuck up.”

I reluctantly head up the stairs and reach a door, which leads to a small room with grey walls and floors and three black leather bucket chairs. There’s a large pinboard on one of the walls, decorated with leaflets of varying shapes and sizes.

Where the fuck is this?

But I don’t get a chance to take in anything else because he pulls me through another door.

Framed certificates adorn the left wall, and three bookshelves cover the right, under which sits a two-seater black leather sofa. The room is bathed in soft light from a lamp over in the far corner. As Theo moves out of the way, the ugly truth as to why I’m here.

Aisling is sitting in a black leather armchair, dressed in black jeans and a black polo neck jumper.

He’s brought me to see her. Ironic, given I’m the only one in the room not certifiably insane.

“Where’s Art?” I snap.

She gives a small smile, which doesn’t reach her eyes. “Art’s arriving home to discover that his fiancée has disappeared.”

“Is he okay?”

“Of course.” Her smile vanishes. “I’d never harm him. I love him.” Her eyes narrow into slits as she takes me in. “You, on the other hand, are going to be taught a lesson.”

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