Page 24 of Collateral Claim
I’ve never been inside a space such as this one. To be fair, most people haven’t unless they’ve visited a palace. The foyer sets the expectations for the rest of the house. It’s massive, painted all in white, with a ceiling that stretches all the way to the roof of the house.
We stand on red hardwood floors. The walls on either side of us are adorned with four fireplaces, two on each side. The chairs in front of the fireplaces are either red or green.
The foyer ends with a massive staircase made of dark gray marble. Yes, marble, not wood or stone. Gray marble. Thick,intricately designed iron bars, shaped like bones with a skull on top, serve as railings. I’ve never seen such an interior.
The men climb the steps, and I hurry behind them, my fingertips grazing the iron skulls along the staircase. At the top, Endo takes a left and climbs another set of stairs. “See you around,” he says and starts to unbutton his shirt. My gaze follows him as his shirt comes off.
I look away and straight at the young man who’s waiting for me. Endo is distracting. His swagger makes it easy to forget he’s the enemy.
“Lead the way,” I say.
The man ascends the steps on the right, and at the top of those, we pass another sitting room with furniture from the sixteen or seventeen hundreds. After that, we enter a bedroom that can only be described as a red room. The floor, the wallpaper, the bed, the vanity, the furniture, it’s all red. It’s not a subtle red either. It’s a blood-red room. In addition, the bed is small, not quite suitable for a child, but small. I’m five nine, and there’s no way I’ll be able to stretch out on the mattress.
“Can I change my mind about the room?” I ask.
Connor shrugs. “Sure.”
“Are there other rooms on this side of the house? That aren’t red, I mean.”
The man nods. “You can sleep in a crib or on the floor. The east side is fully furnished and renovated.”
“You’re saying on this side of the house, this is the only room with a bed?”
He nods. “There are the barracks, if you’d like.” He smiles. “You can come bunk with us.”
“No, thank you.”
“Then be grateful you have a bed. If your dad took my twin brother, I would already have cut you up and left you on his doorstep. Have a nice stay, Ms. Pembroke.” With that, the manleaves. I stare at the door. He reminded me of the dangers of my captivity and the people surrounding me. He might’ve been rude, but I’m grateful for it. Sometimes I forget that people can be nasty.
I leave the suitcase by the bed. I don’t want to unpack since I hope my stay will be short. Outside, the clouds gather and the wind moves them over the sun. Thunder cracks and rain falls, the rush of drops beating at the window.
I never liked rain.
I like it even less when I’m trapped in a beautiful prison.
And I don’t like Endo either. Even if I find him beautiful too.
That night, I sleep as much as I’m able to in a bed made for a short woman from the thirteen hundreds. Back then, our countrymen and women weren’t as tall as we are now. We mixed with taller nations over the hundreds of years we sailed across the globe, and that’s particularly evident in this region, which saw so much trade from the seas.
It’s almost ten in the morning before I rise and panic about toiletries. I don’t think I even brought a toothbrush. I dump the contents of the suitcase on top of the bed and rummage through it, finding nothing useful. Not only that, I brought clothes I haven’t worn since college. But that’s all I have, so that’s what I’ll wear.
I slide into a pair of skinny jeans so tight, I can barely button them up. I pick up a sheer white blouse with blue lace on the collar. It looks festive, but since this is my first morning in my beautiful prison, it doesn’t match my mood. Yet I wear it because I can’t summon enough energy to care about what I’ll wear today.
When I sit on the bed to put on sneakers, I realize all I brought with me are riding boots.
“Nooo.” I move the clothes around the suitcase and curse, my shoulders slumping. Damn it. I should’ve packed better. But then again, I’ve been barely functioning since Hurricane Endo swept into my life.
As is the case with all hurricanes, Endo too shall pass. Hopefully, as early as today or as late as tomorrow.
I put on my boots, but still need toiletries. Even if I’m staying only a day, I need a toothbrush. Also, where is my phone? My wallet is digital, so everything is in my phone, and the phone isn’t where I left it.
Did it fall out while I was riding Velocity? I purse my lips, thinking. No. I clearly remember setting it on the nightstand and watching Charlotte’s calls come and go on the screen. I didn’t know what to say to her. Maybe I’ll find something to say today. I’d hate for her to worry about me, even though we’re past that point.
I’m already getting a headache. A coffee should help with that.
I open the door to go downstairs and stop.
The young blond man who brought up my suitcase is leaning against the opposite wall. He wears black pants and a black shirt that’s left unbuttoned enough to show a thick gold chain. His hands are clasped in front of him. No tattoos. Instead, he sports swollen, red knuckles from what I hope was an exercise with a punching bag and not a human face.
