Chapter Four

Ashton leads me out of the room and back down the way we had arrived, only to continue down towards the right hallway next to the stairs. He stops at the second door on the left and slips a key in to unlock it, revealing a large, quite cozy looking bedroom. The bed is a simple queen-sized bed, with crisp white sheets, and a fluffy grey comforter with matching pillow cases.

This time I assess the room, and my heart drops again when I realize there is a key design missing from the room.

Where the hell are the windows?

There isn't one in the room, not even a tiny one at the top of the wall or anything. What kind of room am I in?

"I see you notice the lovely fact that this room has no windows, and neither does the bathroom or closet. It's really just a guest bedroom, not a room we lock up hostages in. We have a room in the basement for the ones we don't necessarily have to treat as nicely as we do you."

I shiver at the thought of what horrifying place they keep others in the basement, and at least thank the stars I have a comfortable room and bed, with an accessible bathroom. The lack of windows is a complete downer, there is no way I can escape if im locked in here all the time, but at the very least, best case scenario I suppose, I'm not being treated like an animal, like I had envisioned.

"So, I'm just supposed to sit in here?" I ask quietly.

Ashton nods firmly. "You're to stay here, until Lucien hears from your father, and settles their agreement."

Lucien had explained to me, before I was hauled off again, that my father owes him something, from a long time ago. He was supposedly thrown in jail for quite some time, like I have believed, and wasn't able to collect his debt. Since he has been recently released, he has come back for what he is owed, and I am the bargaining chip to make sure he gets everything he wants. I wanted to ask why I was given such special treatment, not to be harmed in anyway, but the presence of the man alone was shaking me to my core, and I didn't want to be anywhere near him.

I was almost grateful when he had stopped and fiddled on his phone, Ashton arriving through the door a few seconds afterwards, as if he had been standing on the other side the entire time. He had picked up my arm and this time gently dragged me out the door.

"We missed lunch, so I can bring you something now if you're hungry. If not, you have to wait another 3-4 hours until dinner is ready, and one of us will bring it to you," he says, not stepping into the room entirely, like he is afraid to get too close to me. Is he afraid of me? Or just really doesn't like my presence at all?

"I'm fine for now, I can wait," I mutter. I just want to be alone, to wallow over my terrible situation, dreading the fact that I was too stupid to listen to my father. If I had even just one bodyguard as protection the other night, when I was kidnapped, there could have been even the slightest chance of escape.

"I'll leave you to wallow," Ashton whispers. I gape at him, shocked that he knew exactly what I'm thinking– and doing. "I'll be back in 4 hours with dinner, be quiet and behave until then." He strides out of the room and surprisingly closes the door quietly. I heave a sigh when another heavy lock falls. I am once again trapped, in some unordinary kidnapping. Did they just exaggerate scenarios like this in books? Or have I just been kidnapped by the rare, weird, psychotic criminals?

What do you think? A small voice asks in the back of my head. I already know the answer. My kidnapping is a rare case. Lucky me, right? Leave it to me to land myself in this kind of situation. I look around the room, noticing the half-opened door that looks like it leads to a small bathroom, and a closed door that has to be the closet Ashton mentioned, which both also has no windows. There is an alarm clock on the night stand, telling me it's 2 in the afternoon.

Maybe it's a good idea to finally take a shower, even though I'm still nerve-racking with the many ominous criminals lurking the house, having full access to my locked room. I check the bathroom door, and cheer when I see it has a lock. If they have to break down the door to get to me, at least I have a few minutes to put enough clothes on to cover myself.

The bathroom is a gentle cream colored, with white tiled floors, a large white wood vanity mirror above the sink; the counters made of a bluish-brown marble, the sink a matching cream color. There is a stand-up shower, with fogged windows and doors, the tiles surrounding the bottom white, but the back of the shower is the same cream as the walls and sink. I feel a gentle warmth spread over me as I step into the shower, relaxing a little and welcoming the soothing, hot water on my chapped skin.

I try my best to let the warm water soothe my foot a little, but it's hard to keep balance. I look down, and gasped when I notice how swollen and purple it has become. There is no way it's going to heal in just a day or two, I have to get ice on it right away. I curse myself for not saying something to Ashton, but the adrenaline from the fear and shock of meeting Lucien, caused me to forget all about the pain, until I stepped into the shower and finally allowed myself to relax.

Idiot. You're never going to get out now.

I quickly dry and change back into my clothes. I wonder what I'm going to do for clean clothing if I'm staying for the week. Am I supposed to wear the same thing every day? How can I expect that they have extra clothes for their hostages? That's absurd.

When I reach for the door, I'm confused when it turns easily, completely unlocked. I know for a fact I had locked it after coming in the bathroom, afraid of the others walking in.

Oh, my god. Had someone walked in on me, without me even realizing?

I start to panic, and creep out slowly into the bedroom. There is no one in sight, and nothing seems to be misplaced from what I can remember. I walk over and check the bedroom door, relaxing a little to see that it is still locked. A voice at the back of my mind pipes up again.

They could have locked it again when they left. You're a prisoner, remember?

I curse the voice silently, scowling at the cold atmosphere around me. The room no longer feels warm and cheerful, with its brightly painted walls and white wood furniture. Despite no window, when I first arrived, the room seemed cozy. Now it feels bland and empty. I am coming to full realization that I am a mouse caught in a trap, surrounded by the big bad wolf, and his 3 minion wolves, equally as bad; at least two of them, it seems.

The bed is the only place to sit, and there isn't anything to use as entertainment until I'm brought dinner in 3 hours. No books or even a magazine. The lack of windows is even more depressing; I don't even have a view to stare aimlessly out of. I lay back on the bed and try to point out weird designs in the bumpy ceiling.

The hours crawl by, until there is a small knock on the door and it swings open, revealing Lucas holding a steaming plate of steak and vegetables. In his other hand, I notice a small stack of books and magazines.

"I figured you would get bored with nothing to do in here, I hope these can help ease the boredom for a little while," he says, and places everything on the small end table next to me. I bite my lip, unable to say anything, not even a thank you. My mind is still whirling; despite the large amount of spare time I have had to think it all out. There is too much going on for my mind to relax.

"Has anyone not survived?" I asked him quietly. He knew exactly what I meant, and chose to remain quiet, a troubled look on his face. His silence answered me much louder and clearer. My fear continued to grow, but I was thankful I was given few distractions for the time being.

Lucas left silently, as I flipped through the stack of reading material. There was a few gossip and celebrity lifestyle magazines, accompanied by a variety of unknown books by authors I had never heard about. Their covers were tattered and worn, telling me of their age and experience. I decided on a book by an author called Danielle Steele, the most interesting looking book. I was relieved to find out it was a romance book, a genre I was very passionate about.

I flipped through the chalky pages, picking at the still steaming veggies and meat, trying to contain the drool that filled my mouth when I took a bite of the tender meat. I devoured the plate before I could finish the first chapter, and sprawled out on the bed to continue reading. I dived into the book after the first few pages, no longer paying attention to my surroundings and the ticking time.

It was one of the many things I loved about reading, the ability to escape to another world, far away from the reality of the world you're living in. Despite my bizarre and dangerous situation, I was still able to relax my mind and allow my defences to be lowered while I consumed myself with a made-up world, much better than my own.

My life has never felt real, everything seems fabricated, like it was all dreamed up. From my years in a top notch, luxurious private school, to my three story, 10-bedroom manor, right down to the clothes I wore on my back. Everything was so perfect, glorious down to the last detail. I never wanted any of it, I never felt like I fit into my own life. Reading was a means to escape from that. Live the life of a rebel girl with nothing, but somehow finds meaning to her life, or the rich girl who is tired of her life, and runs away.

I wondered what would have happened, if I hadn't been kidnapped and slowly starting to appreciate the small things I had in life before; like comfortability, entertainment, oh and not being held hostage in a windowless room. Would I have run away? I was almost done school, my parents had said I didn't need to work or go to any further school, unless I had decided to, only to prepare me for taking over the family business.

I could go anywhere, for however long I wanted. Move to a different country for a year, and be a different person, completely erase all my memories from the past. What a life that would be.

A loud knock startled me out of my daydream, causing me to realize I had completely abandoned the new gem I had found. I closed the dusty book pages, but the door swung open before I could rise from the bed. Ashton came in, carrying a small plate with what looked like a piece of chocolate cake. I was a little taken back when slight emotion showed on his face.

He looked uncomfortable, almost shy.

"The chefs always prepare cake at the end of the night, for Lucas mainly. He suggested I bring you a piece, he would like to know how it tastes from, uh," he stopped and cleared his throat. "A woman's perspective," he said, almost monotone, as if he was reciting a message.

"Is there no other women in the house?"

He shook his head. "Aside from the female staff, there is no one else other than myself, and the other three, accompanied by 24-hour security."

I felt he added in the part about security, to scare me further into not attempting escape. If so, it worked. The cabin didn't have any security, just the three of them, who could be easily distracted at the time with food. I imagined the guards Lucien had on stand outside the house and all inside it, and I didn't imagine they were the kind of men who could be tempted by food, or a woman's charm, something I lacked more than the natural light in the room.

"I see no harm in trying it out then, thank you," I said and reached for the plate. It was heavy from the weight of the cake in my hand, the tiny, thin porcelain plate barely big enough to contains its size. The base was a fluffy, dark chocolate, with layers of fudge in the center, and milk chocolate icing, sprinkled with light and dark chocolate sprinkles to top it off. I could feel myself gaining the 20 lbs I knew the cake contained.

None the less, it was too tempting for me not to try one bite, before it was devoured in seconds. Though it wasn't the first-time Ashton had witnessed my large appetite, he still looked at me, his mouth slightly agape, as I scraped the crumbs off the plate, setting it down.

"You really are something," he muttered, almost too quietly for me to hear. The comment shocked me into silence, forcing me to consider that he might have said something else, or meant it in a not so nice way.

"Tell the chef, it was fantastic," I said, still wiping off remaining chocolate around my mouth. He stood there for a few silent seconds, gazing at me with those intense, emotionless eyes. Even when they are void of any emotion, I'm still able to get lost in them, before he breaks the gaze and grabs the plate.

"There is a cup in the bathroom for water, I'll be back tomorrow morning with breakfast, be up by 10 am," he said.

The next two days carried out like that; I was brought food every morning, afternoon and night, while the chef prepared different kinds of cake each night for Lucas, and continued to have me try them to give him a woman's insight. It was a small positivity, in my otherwise limited environment. After two days, I had started to look forward to the different desserts I would get to try.

I was shocked when late afternoon, just as the sun was beginning the make its descent, Lucien knocked on my door.

"I think you have been cooped up in here too long, I was wondering if you would like to spend an hour or two in the garden? Get some fresh air," he asked. It wasn't the worst idea, and I was starting to miss the way the night breeze felt on my face. I had always enjoyed night more than day, the moon more than the sun. I agreed and allowed him to lead me down the narrow hallways I was already beginning to grow familiar with.

Ashton was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, a rather grim look on his face.

Is he coming with us?

"Since I have quite a bit of business to attend to, Ashton will be escorting you around the garden, and will bring you back to your room, where dinner will be waiting for you," Lucien said and smiled, before he quickly strode away, leaving Ashton and I in the deafening foyer, slowly filling with tense air. He said nothing as he turned around and started walking towards the back of the house. I tried to follow him, my short legs no match for his. We walked through the living room, out the sliding glass doors, until we were surrounded by colorful bushes and flowers.

The garden was designed almost like a maze, with small bushes and trees covering the property. I was surprised when we passed a few hanging tress, and there were small apples growing on the branches. A few other trees had pears and oranges. I looked towards Ashton, a small, curious smile on my face as I gestured to one of the apple trees. He nodded slightly, and I searched for the best looking one, but my shoulders fell when I saw the perfect one – way out of my reach.

I frowned, and was about to look for one a little lower, when an arm reached out next to me, and plucked the apple I was eyeing with ease. Ashton grabbed my hand lightly, and dropped the apple in my palm, letting his hand linger against mine for a few seconds longer than necessary. I gazed up at him and smiled in thanks, before taking a hungry bite out of the apple, satisfied by the sweet, slightly sour taste of the crunchy fruit. I turned back to the tree and picked out another equally looking apple, this time more in my reach, and tossed it to Ashton.

Before he could reject the fruit, I spun around and continued down the paved path slowly, still munching on my apple. We passed a few more fruit bushes and trees, which tempted me to return to this garden once more, if I had the time. Of course, I hoped I wouldn't, but a weird part of my wished I would as well. Especially when I had spotted a few rows of strawberry bushes in the distance. I also saw that the sun was going down, and my time in the garden was probably coming to an end. I looked towards Ashton, and seemed to catch him in a moment of thought.

He had a deep frown on his face, as he seemed to be thinking hard about something. I wasn't sure if I should interrupt, or take the opportunity to continue to enjoy the fresh air and lush nature, while he was still distracted. We continued to walk in silence for a few seconds, before he blinked a couple's times and looked over at me through the corner of his eye.

"We should probably get back," he said quietly, slowing his pace. We came to a stop in the middle of the path, and I took one more fleeting look at the setting sun, taking in the sight of the red and pink clouds, before I was shut in a windowless room. I followed Ashton back along the path, taking notice that his pace seemed a little slower than before.

He cleared his throat suddenly. "We can take the shorter path, where the strawberry bushes are." I looked up at him, joy evident in my face. "I can let you stop and pick a handful to bring back, at least."

"I would like that," I said, and offered him a genuine smile. I swore I saw his eyes widen a fraction, before he quickly looked away. I brushed it off as a trick of the eye, and quickly followed him towards the patch of strawberry bushes. As promises, he led me to a patch that was full of large, ripe strawberries, and let me pick enough to fill one hand, and maybe my pockets.

"Thanks again for taking me out here, it was nice to remember what the sun looks like," I said, trying to joke lightly, but there was some hidden truth in there.

Ashton smiled gently, but his eyes stayed stone cold. Was this guy ever really happy? He didn't say anything as we headed back towards the house. He let me stop in the kitchen, to grab a small bowl and wash my strawberries, before leading me back to my bedroom, where dinner was waiting as said. Ashton had stopped in the open doorway, a small frown on his face. He looked down at the ground, his brows furrowing like he was trying to think of something.

"Is everything alright?" I asked hesitantly. His head shot up to look at me, as if he momentarily forgot I was still standing there. I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes, before it disappeared, and was replaced by their usual stone cold look. His mouth flattened into an emotionless line, and he nodded his head.

"I hope you enjoy dinner. Good night, Ava." My heart skipped a little when he said my name, his tone a lot softer when he said it. I bit my lip, cursing myself for liking the way it sounded when he said it, especially with his to die for accent. I slapped myself in the face lightly and crashed on the bed backwards.

What is wrong with me?

This guy is a criminal – a bounty hunter. Not someone I should be showing any attraction for in the slightest way. I continued to beat myself up silently as I reached for my dinner and quickly devoured it, wanting to enjoy the sweet strawberries I had been eyeing all evening. The taste was oh so sweet, but the rampaging thoughts of Ashton as I ate them, weren't so sweet. I wanted to get that man out of my head, but it was impossible, since all I could think about was about kind it was that he let me stop and pick some, even though I had never said anything about wanting any.

Come to think of it, I had never even mentioned anything about the strawberry bushes.

How had he known I was even interested in them? Had he taken a guess? Assuming everyone likes strawberries? It wasn't an impossible thought, almost everyone liked strawberries, but it was still an odd thing to assume, especially about your kidnap victim, or whatever I was referred as to a bounty hunter.

I didn't want to think of him as sweet or kind, I didn't want to view any of them as anything nice. In the end, they might kill me once they get their money, who knows what my fate is. They could just be playing nice for now, to throw me off my guard. I can't fall for anything, they are still criminals, and I'm still a victim. Especially now that I know a lunatic criminal like Lucien Bradford is the one behind all of this, and the one really holding my life on the line, I know I can't trust any of them.

They all work for him after all, and Ashton even said he lives here, which leads me to believe he is somehow related to this man, or very close to him. Enough to live at his lavish mansion, ten times nicer than any home I have ever owned. I was going to have to walk around like I was stepping on glass for the remainder of my time here, keeping my head low and my tongue to myself.