Page 24 of Prelude To You

“From that moment on, you will have a permanent detail team every time you step outside your American residence. You’ll never see them, but they’ll always be there. So will I.”

Two hours and twenty-three minutes later we reached the outskirts of Geneva. Steven pulled up in front of a place that might be charitably described as derelict. And for an overprotected eighteen-year-old boy, it was downright terrifying.

“Where are we?” I asked. I put a lot of effort into keeping my voice steady. “And why are we stopping here?”

“This is where you will stay for the next seven days. You will learn basic skills. What to do in the extreme unlikelihood your safety is ever compromised.”

“You mean if I’m kidnapped.”

“Correct,” Steven said with unnerving calm.

“No way my father will agree to this bullshit.”

“Who do you think I take my orders from, Roman? But you’re welcome to take it up with him when you’re back home.”

I was still assembling my next thought when three very large men stormed the car and forced me out of it. One stuffed my mouth with a rag, and another put a black bag over my head. To call them brutes would be a compliment.

For seven days and six nights, I was held in conditions not fit for a cockroach. Coming face to face with total barbarians who batted me around at will. Sleeping on a cracked cement floor with a thin, moth-eaten blanket. Given a bowl of rice once a day and something that resembled a meaty substance. I wasn’t going to ask. If I believed in Hell, this was what I’d imagine it to be.

I was released a week later with zero fanfare. Sleep-deprived, half-starved and with no part of my body that wasn’t aching. I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked like I’d been in a fight with a bear, and lost.

Steven was waiting outside, by the same ridiculous car. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a hint of concern in his eyes as he took in my battered appearance. If he was expecting me to whine, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Hello Roman,” he said.

I squared my shoulders and held my head high. “Hello Steven,” I replied.

“You all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. Get in the car.”

Inside, Steven handed me a wrapped sandwich and two bottles of orange juice. “This should hold you over until we get to the hotel.”

I ripped the cap off the one orange juice and emptied it in four greedy gulps. Steven held out two white pills. “Aspirin for the pain.”

“I don’t need them,” I mumbled around my sandwich.

The only sign that Steven took some pride in the fact that I wasn’t curled up in a fetal position bemoaning my lot, was the light slap he gave me on the shoulder. Which hurt, but for some reason that acknowledgment from him made me feel that things might be all right.

There was no conversation about the week I just had. Steven relayed a bit of world news. From his tone, we could have been sitting in a yacht club chatting over drinks.

He casually added that there would be yearly refresher courses on this bullshit. Those would be more instructional in nature, rather than the brutal treatment I’d endured for the past week.

After that, the rattling car engine was the only thing holding the silence at bay. It gave me time to think.

My reality was settling in. This was it. Twelve years of outstanding education at a private Swiss school that focused on the male and female heirs of the world’s fortunes. Six more years at Brown University, the seventh-oldest institution of higher education in the United States.

All aimed at stamping out what made me human and replacing it with what really mattered: a knack for making vast fortunes even vaster. My entire life had been planned out for me. I was expected to want nothing other than to follow in my father’s footsteps. And it worked.

Fourteen years later, I had never once doubted that this was the life I was meant to lead. Even the life I wanted to lead.

Until last night.

I wondered if The Dancer had any inkling of how effortlessly she’d interrupted my carefully-guarded existence. How she slipped into my life and made me question everything I stood for. For a few wonderful moments, she made me wonder at all the possibilities that might be open to me, had I been able to choose my own path in life.

But now here I was again, those same possibilities far removed from my reality. A reality that must continue regardless.

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