Mafia Games by Vi Carter
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CLAIRE
This time when tears come, I let them fall fast and hard. My stomach twists painfully. Richard said he would kill Leonard, and I didn’t beg him not to. I am as big of a monster as they are. This place is making me lose my mind. I’m off the bed; I’ve never wanted to hurt someone, but I want to hurt Richard.
I’m pacing again, and the glass walls that rise too high are closing in on me until I stop walking. I’m back to staring down at the image of Richard on my floor. Even when he’s not here, he’s all I see.
I take quick steps to the sink and stuff a large towel in the basin. As I turn on the taps, I don’t care about all the excess water that pours over the towel and out onto my dress.
I don’t try to stop the onslaught of water.
Without turning off the taps, I drag the towel out. It’s heavy with water as I hold it over the image of him. His dark gaze is warning me not to remove his face from the floor. I slap the towel down on the image and fall to my knees. The drawing slowly disappears under the towel that turns from white to gray very quickly. Once the image is removed, I sit up. The bottom of my dress is soaked, turning the fabric translucent. The taps still run, and the noise of rushing water is better than the silence. I continue my path of destruction, attacking the picture of the table and chairs I had drawn. I don’t want to share these parts of myself.
Time continues to slip away as I turn everything upside down and inside out. Maybe I’m finally having that breakdown that I feel I should have had when my parents died. When Leonard purposely set that fire, only he knew he wouldn’t let me burn. I would live with the knowledge that he burnt the house down and saved me because that’s the kind of power he had. Another reminder of how little control I truly have over my own life.
“You have made a right mess.” Richard’s voice should startle me, but it doesn’t.
I continue my destruction as I pull all the dresses out of the wardrobe. I ignore him as I throw the clothes into the tub and turn on both taps.
“What are you doing?” His voice carries over the rushing water, and I give him a quick look before walking back to my bed and dragging the quilts off it. Everything goes into the tub, and I get a feeling like I’m drunk and the world is dissolving around me as I build my own. This world is filled with water. All the towels join everything else in the tub.
“You want to tell me why you are destroying your room?” He’s right behind me, and I pause in my path of destruction.
I think of my answer as my heart pounds in my stomach. I can feel my heartbeat in my teeth; the flicker should be a warning, but I am drowning, and I don’t think I want to breathe.
“No.” I bark and move to the table and chairs. I don’t break them but knock them over. Richard stays standing in the middle of my destruction, and he doesn’t stop me. He looks amused, and that really sets me off.
The puzzle boxes are stacked at the back of the room, and I gather them before walking up to Richard. I open up the first one and let the puzzle pieces rain down over him. Elation at doing it has the blood burning in my veins. My temperature soars as I open the next one, ready to do the same thing.
Richard’s hands reach out quickly, and he drags me fast and hard against his chest. His touch is a splash of cold water on my face. I’m waking up from my meltdown, and I dare tilt my head back and look into his angry eyes. I swallow as fear grips my throat. His hands on my wrists are tight, but I don’t chance to move a muscle. I’m already wondering what I was thinking, throwing the puzzle at him.
The water still rushes in the background, and along with it, I hear the racing of my frantic heart. I’m waiting for the blow, but it doesn’t come.
He releases me and takes a step back. The space isn’t enough. He’s towering over me, and all I feel is wet and frazzled.
Richard walks past me, and I don’t move as the sound of running water stops. I glance over my shoulder as he turns away from the basin.
“You’ve ruined all your clothes.”
His words drag my attention to my dress, which is soaked. The white material is clinging to my skin.
I swallow as he steps towards me, his gaze drinking me in, making me feel like I don’t have a scrap of fabric covering my flesh. He stops only inches away from me.
“I want to know what Leonard did to you?” It’s a question, a demand, a death sentence for Leonard.
“No.” I jut out my chin and hold my head high.
I think I see a smile in his eyes, but if I did, it’s gone before I can conjure a second thought. I’m turning towards the door that never closed when Richard entered. I hadn’t noticed the door open before. How had I not noticed? I take a step towards freedom.
Richard moves past me to the door. I’m waiting for him to leave, close the door, and disappear up the stairs.
“I have food prepared for us.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “You will have to change first.”
I don’t state the obvious that all my clothes are soaked in the tub.
“Come upstairs.” He steps out through the door.
It’s a trick. Then stay here, Claire.
My mind taunts me.
I wrap my arms around my waist and follow Richard out of the box. His gaze snaps to my bare feet, and his jaw tightens.
He returns to the box and picks up my red sneakers off the floor where I had thrown them. He holds them carefully between his fingers as he climbs the stairs. I’m stalling again, wondering what really awaits me upstairs. But I’ve been up there twice, and each time no harm came to me. My feet are silent as I climb the steps.
We emerge into the hallway, and Richard places my shoes on a chair across from us. I don’t expect the contact and jump as he wraps his fingers around my bandaged wrist. He guides me through the hall. Two men I’ve never seen before don’t even blink as we pass them in a larger hallway; it’s grander than the last. The heavy chandelier above our heads is lit, with a million lights that reflect and dance off the dark wooden flooring beneath my bare feet.
My heart plummets into my stomach as an open staircase appears before us, and the steps soon disappear under my feet as I climb numbly.
Some of the worst thoughts race through my mind as we reach a landing. I would admire all the marble flooring and high arched door frames, but all I feel is sick as he opens a set of double doors that lead into a bedroom. He releases my wrist once he steps in, and I’m at the foot of a huge bed. The gray sheets and cream covering give the room an almost pleasant feel. That is, except for Richard, who walks toward a door positioned to the left of the bed and disappears into it.
A torture room? Maybe he has more women in there. That thought has something tightening my chest and not because some poor soul is trapped. It’s the idea of him kissing another woman.
The thought lodges itself painfully in my throat, and I want to cough, but I swallow the dryness as Richard reappears, holding a blue t-shirt in one hand and gray sweat pants in another. He’s not looking at me; he’s staring at the clothes in his hand. “These will have to do for now.” He looks up at me, and I fear he can see the thoughts written on my face, that for one second, I was jealous that I wasn’t his only captive.
I let the cough out to distract myself.
He reaches me, and I curl my fingers around the garments. “Thank you.” I’m flustered, and when he doesn’t release the clothes, I look up at him.
“You are welcome, Claire.” His words are spoken clearly and hold a small amount of humor.
He finally releases the clothes and points to a door that sits to the right of the bed. “The bathroom is in there. You can change.”
I move faster than is necessary, but I need to get away from him. I need to get away from my thoughts. Closing the bathroom door gives me little solace. My gaze zones in on the electric toothbrush that sits alone on a glass shelf below a round mirror. I walk over to a cabinet that sits under the sink and open the doors. Aftershave, toothpaste, all bottles of hair care products fill the space. It’s his room—his bathroom. I take a peek at the enormous shower. I stare at it for too long when a rap at the door has me dropping his clothes.
“Everything okay?” His words are spoken at the door.
“Yes,” I say.
He knocks again. “Claire?”
I clear my throat and speak louder. “Yes, I’m nearly done.”
“Okay.”
I wait a beat. His footsteps move away from the door, and I pull the wet dress over my head before dragging on the fresh clothes. The t-shirt falls to my knees, and all I smell is him. The jogging pants are huge, and I’d need to use both hands to hold them up. I remove them. I don’t want to go out in just a t-shirt, no matter how long it is.
“The pants are too big.”
His footsteps are back at the door. “That’s all I have. You’ll have to make do since you destroyed your clothes.”
I’m ready to tell him I’m not coming out in a t-shirt.
“Open the door.” His command is low, and something stirs in my stomach.
“No.” I don’t expect him to hear me, but he does.
“You want me to break down the door?”
I don’t doubt he will. I unlock the door, holding the jogging pants in a death grip as Richard slowly takes me in. He starts from my bare feet, and it feels like an eternity before he reaches my eyes. I swallow from the look of hunger in his eyes. Hunger I can’t ever imagine someone like me could satisfy.
It’s a click of a finger, and the look is gone. “You will be fine as you are.”
I’m ready to protest, but he flashes me a warning. I hand over the sweatpants and follow him out of the room in just a t-shirt. The material grazes my knees, but I still feel naked as we go downstairs. Once Richard is in the hallway, he pauses, waiting for me. I can’t see his eyes. The cold wooden flooring under my feet does nothing to extract the heat that burns through my flesh.
I don't look at the security men stationed in every room of the house that we pass. But I’m aware of them. Now I’m staring at Richards’s wide back, wondering exactly who he is. Someone extremely wealthy, judging by the grand rooms we move through until we end up in a dining room with a table long enough to seat over twenty people. I count the chairs all the way down to the end, where it has been set for the two of us.
Twenty-two seats, I count. I wonder why he needs so many. How many people live here? And why all the security? Too many questions swirl in my mind, but none make an appearance as Richard pulls out a high-back chair for me to sit down.
I do, and as he pushes the chair in, I keep my hands in my lap. Richard takes his seat at the head of the table with me to his right.
It’s beyond awkward. I’m too close. The table is too big. The room is too silent. It’s too wrong.