Page 33 of Orion Ruined

MAISY

I spend the rest of the afternoon in Orion’s basement. The washing machine and the dryer were hard to find. I had to turn all the lights on and literally check behind every door, and there are at least five doors downstairs: changing rooms, most likely for when they box in the ring, plus bathrooms, a cleaning closet and so on. Once I found the laundry room it was easy. Surely there’s someone else doing this for him because judging by the plethora of detergents, he wouldn’t know where to start. It screams a woman’s touch. A pang of jealousy overwhelms me as I wonder who that might be.

Once the washing machine is on, I go back to the main basement room and check the last door to see where it leads. This room has one small yellow dimmer light. Once I turn it on, I wait for my eyes to adjust and push on, feeling brave enough to nose about a little. You get to learn a lot about someone by simply seeing their most hidden rooms. Especially the ones in their basement.

One side of the room is exposed brick with iron cuffs hanging from the wall, with chains attached, and some sort of metal contraption hanging from the beam overhead. Knowing this is a mobster’s house, I don’t want to think about what goes on here, because if I look closer, I’m sure I can see blood on the wall. In the corner, there’s a desk and a flimsy chair. Just like in the movies. But this is no movie. The smell’s real, too, and a little too disturbing. A big, scary furnace is in one corner, not in use.

The washing machine suddenly makes a loud whirring noise and I jump. I spin on my heel and run out.

I get back to the machine, which has just finished its cycle, and move the wet sheets into the dryer. Without the need to wait around, I head back to my room; I won’t be in this space any longer than I have to be.

I walk back through the gym and up the staircase. The moment I set foot in the hall, I hear someone in the kitchen. But it’s too late. I’m already here and now I’m staring at an elderly woman cleaning the kitchen floor and collecting up the pieces of broken crockery.

The basement door closes behind me with a slam. She clearly hears it, but doesn’t even raise her head.

“I’ll be out of here in five minutes,” she says.

“I… I could actually use the company?” I say nervously.

She doesn’t respond. She finishes with the floor in five minutes. Deliberately or not, she turns her back to me, tidies up, and leaves.

And that was that. Strange.

With the kitchen clean and my belly empty, I open the fridge to see if there’s anything to eat. Chicken, lettuce, and some dressing; enough to make a chicken Caesar salad.

I start preparing it, and realize I’m salivating. I can’t remember when I last ate. After this meal, he’ll need to buy more food, since I’ve made use of everything in the fridge.

I decide to make a plate for Orion too, it’s the least I can do for not killing me last night. I cover the one for him and leave it in the fridge, and take my plate at the table to eat.

Clean sheets. Roof over my head. Full stomach. How long until this ends, I wonder? How long until they find out about my sister, and then kill me, no doubt?

I must’ve dozed off because a knock on the door jolts me from my slumber.

“Get dressed and come down to the kitchen,” Orion orders. He doesn’t ask. He never asks.

I remember finishing my food, taking my sheets from the basement and making my bed. Since my body always wants to rest when my stomach is full, I took a shower, got dressed, and… I suppose I fell asleep.

I rub my eyes and look at the time: three in the morning. I shouldn’t be keeping these crazy hours just because they do. With messy hair and in my cami top and panties, I get up and go down to the kitchen.

Orion’s in his suit, minus the jacket and tie, and is wearing the holster with his gun. His sleeves are rolled up, tats showing on his forearms, and those rings–it looks like they never leave his fingers. Looking hot, as always. My insides clench at the sight of him. He’s making pancakes, despite the weird time of night, looking fully engrossed in the job.

“Hello,” I yawn.

He turns to me, his eyes running down my body. “Didn’t I say get dressed?”

“I am dressed, and it’s three in the morning.” Who makes pancakes at three in the morning?

“Suit yourself. Sit down, we’re having pancakes.”

I walk up to where he is, heading for the coffee pot. “Is there any coffee at this hour?”

His eyes fall to my breasts. His tongue darts out of his mouth and he licks his lower lip. “I’ll bring it over. Go and sit down. I have questions for you.”

“Okay.” I blink at him and sit on a chair at one end of the table.

Orion pours me a cup. “Sugar or cream?”

I shake my head. “Neither.”

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