Roman: Book 1 (14 page)

I’ve lost her. I had her; I’ve had her for over a year. She and I have been on the same page; eye to eye on how this, how
WE
work for a very long time now. I say when. I say how. I say when and how, dammit. That is how
WE
work.

Fine, she wants to be number thirteen, then number thirteen she will become.

I chase tumbler after tumbler of an expensive bottle of scotch between sips of my club soda. Every minute within this hell I reside in, my mind alternates from loving her, holding her, cherishing her, to choking her, maiming her, and skinning her. From keeping her…to killing her.

Sixteen hours have passed since Heather stumbled from the tub.  Sixteen hours since I watched her pour the bottle of  hydrogen peroxide down her back and then doctor her well earned stripes.  Sixteen hours since I broke free of the last restraint holding my control and decimated every object within my reach.

Now, I sit staring at the clock over the rim of the glass against my lips and down the last drops of scotch. I realize we are two hours late for brunch with my parents.

The empty tumbler shatters against the wall I sit facing before I even realize I’ve thrown it. I snatch my cellphone from the massive oak desk and dial the clubhouse. “Mr. and Mrs. Payne, please. Let them know Roman is calling.”

After only a few seconds tick by my fathers voice comes over the line, “Roman, is everything alright?.”

“Yes father, everything is fine.  I know how demanding mother can be so please set her mind at ease. Unfortunately Heather has regretfully eaten something which did not agree with her and she’s suffering from a bit of nausea. I’m sure she’ll be as good as new tomorrow morning. Is dinner still scheduled for six  tomorrow?”

“It is. We are dining at your mothers favorite restaurant on Boulevard Montfleury—“

“Il Convivio, yes, I’m familiar. Heather and I will see you and mother at six.”

“Please, inform Heather your mother and I send our sympathy; What a terrible way to begin a vacation.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Okay, son. Your mother and I love you, can’t wait to see you two tomorrow.”

Without waiting to find out if he’s finished speaking I end the call, dropping the phone on the desk as I lean forward and resting my elbows on the desk and lay my head in my hands.

I don’t wish for Heather to become number thirteen.

My mind grapples with the conflicting emotions I’m feeling.  I refuse to allow her transgression of disregarding my orders to go unpunished.  I question the possibility that perhaps I allowed my new odd feelings to permit her rewards she hasn’t rightfully deserved?   A soft knock interrupts my musings and pulls me from my reverie. “Come in.” I snap at the unknown intruder upon my thoughts without even caring enough to look and see who it is.

When Heather’s bare thighs are visual in my peripheral I allow my eyes to slowly inch up her flesh to find her standing in front of my desk clothed in nothing but my under shirt.  The vision in front of me causes a tightening in my chest and a dull ache to take root.  I find myself sucking in my breath through clenched teeth at the unwelcome sensation.

My eyes find her face and lock onto her eyes.  She holds my gaze mere seconds before glancing down. “Would you like to explain to me, Heather, why you feel you have a right to choose the clothing you wear?

She rolls her eyes.

Rolls. Her. Fucking. Eyes.

And, as if her disobedient disregard had not already ignited my anger, she leaves my question unanswered and spits out, “Go fuck yourself, Roman. I don’t care what you want, just end this bullshit already! You win. Whatever it is you want, it’s yours, I don’t care anymore. Congratulations. Now can we please speed this along?”

Before I realize I’ve even moved I feel her face cracking against the oak desks solid surface beneath my hands. I lean over and growl against the flesh of her neck just below her ear, “You seem to have forgotten who is in charge here, mouse.” My hands fist in her hair before jerking her head back to bring us eye to eye, “Are you certain you even know what it is you’re asking for by requesting your beloved number? Let me enlighten you, it’s not only your subsequent death, mouse, I’ve made sure your punishment would reach much further than just your little pathetic life.  Allow me to break it down for you, first, I make a call to inform Andrew of your change of heart leading him to his next course of action: making a call and delivering a code word which results in your youngest brother, Bobby losing his head.  When Andrew receives conformation of this tasks completion, Rick will follow both his uncle and youngest brother’s fate.  And then, after receiving confirmation of the second tasks completion, things get really fun. It won’t be just Cody losing his head, but his pregnant fiancé as well. Because, let’s be honest, mouse, what’s a bride without her future husband, what’s a mother without a father? My thoughts exactly, mouse, absolutely nothing.”

I finish explaining the terms and conditions associated with her accepting the reward of becoming number thirteen, and my rigid frame relaxes in response to the tension I can feel rise between us.

“Ahh… so you had forgotten what it was keeping you at my side. To think I’d actually questioned your sanity, the good news is, I’m always able to revive a memory, a mind… that can be a bit more difficult.” I chuckle releasing her hair allowing her face to once again slam onto the desk.

The instinctual attempt of placing her hands so her face will not slam into the desk does not materialize and face and watch as she doesn’t even move her hands in the instinctual attempt to stop her face from slamming against the desk again before

Anyone without my intelligence would probably see this as a sign of her utter defeat however I see it for what it truly signals…
MY
complete and unmitigated defeat.

You see, you can only physically and mentally push a person so far. There is a fine line a sadist must maintain in order to keep his prey on the brink of breaking without them falling over the edge.

If the line is crossed and your prey has nothing left to lose, so much so they relinquish the deeply engrained impulse of fight or flight.

The purpose of the game is never to allow your opponent over the precipice until
YOU
decide the game is over.

Once you’ve crossed that fine line may as well be fighting a corpse, she may still be breathing but the moment she vacates her basic instincts she apprehends any control you ever held. 

But when you want something as badly as I want Heather, you can’t shrug off the loss and move on. You have to recognize and concede your impending defeat, quickly and efficiently adapt a new method of modus operandi and abruptly strike with your new plan of assault.

I grab the cell phone from the desk where it lays mere inches from her face and dial Andrew. When he answers I hesitate as my eyes fall to Heather’s staring blankly ahead, I internally pray before allowing my words to throw the wheels in to motion, “Andrew, Ms. Mackenzie has unfortunately reconsidered my proposal, I’ll need you to call in favor one and once conformation is received via video and audio, continue with protocol until we’ve verified all five missions are complete.”

Heather’s eyelashes flutter closed as Andrew questions, “Five, sir?”

“Five. I don’t give a fuck if you have to cut the baby out yourself to prove the life is extinguished, Andrew. Do you understand?”

“Shit. Yes, sir. Understood.” He sighs in resignation and I slide my finger ending the call.

I drop the phone back down in front of her face still lying on the desk and after I witness her involuntarily flinch at the sound, I don’t allow myself to grin until my back is turned to her as I walk out of the office.

As long as I keep my eyes clenched closed I’m able to remain numb and deny any impulse of survival instincts. However when Roman’s iPhone clatters on the desk inches from my face he might as well have been blessed with the powers of the Gods to do exactly what he just bragged was a difficult feat.

“…the good news is, I’m always able to revive a memory, a mind… that can be a bit more difficult.”

It can’t be that fucking difficult, not with how quickly he effectively shoved me from my blissful numbness where ninety-nine percent of what he threatened fell on deaf ears. Ears that instantly are berated with every single threat with the sound of his phone hitting, signaling their potency and volume level to increase and slam into my mind.

As his deranged words replay in my delayed conscious thought process
,
I grab the phone from the desk and through my quickly swelling eyes try to turn it on before randomly pressing numbers out of desperation. By the time it dawns on me I’d be more likely to win not only an escape but also fifty million dollars from a lottery I never signed up for both of my eyes have swollen completely shut.

My desperate sob of defeat echoes off the bare walls of the room as I reach my hands out trying to blindly make my way from the office and through the suite. I stagger on shards of glass stabbing my feet with every step until finally my hands collide with the doorframe. I round the corner only to feel my hip bone connect harshly on a blunt object causing my balance to abandon me and I fall on my back right before the back of my head cracks against the marble floor. Blinding light flashes through my brain seconds before the phone slips from my hand and divine blackness delivers me from this evil.

Roman’s voice sounds as if he under water until the timbre gradually clears and my pounding head deciphers his words, “…as I said, I stepped away for a late lunch business meeting, when I returned the housekeeper was in hysterics shouting in broken French. I wasn’t able to understand her until she calmed somewhat and finally took me to where my fiancé, Heather was lying unconscious with her head in the lap of another housekeeper. My first assumption from what I saw was she’d interrupted a burglary and the bastards bludgeoned her until she was a bloody mess.”

“Mr. Payne, I understand your position but that does not alter hospital policy.  You really must wait in the waiting room, Sir.  I’ll let the nurses know to notify you when we feel she is ready for visitors, as of right now Ms. Mackenzie is still unconscious. If I may make a suggestion; this would be an opportune time to return to the hotel, get some rest, or take a shower to ease your nerves. I can assure you we have her care being administered by the best of the best.”

“The best of the best? Is that so? And do you consider yourself one of the healthcare providers under that title?”

“Of course. I specialize in not only Neuro—“

“It is a damn shame when your entire argument collapses on itself when the words you use contradict themselves in said argument, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m not—“

“I’ll be at my hotel, not your horrid waiting room when you deem her ready for visitors, however as for her consciousness, she’s been acutely awake, alert, and oriented since around the beginning of our conversation. Tsk, tsk… Embarrassing is it not?”

The sound of his retreating footsteps immediately result in the release of tension tightly coiled into every muscle group I possess. I sigh in relief, but it’s cut short when the pounding in my head increases turning my sigh into a moan of pain.

“Ms. Mackenzie, I’m Dr. Pearson, the doctor in charge of your care. You are at Centre Hospitalier Universitaire Lenval. Can you tell me how are you feeling? Can you open your eyes?”