Trapped in Paradise

Chapter Four

Butler leads Grace out of the room without a word to spare. Anxiety prickles across her skin, but the room makes her feel caged in, so hastily follows him. He walks a little quicker than she is used to, so she's forced into jogging to keep up.

The hallway he leads her along is painted light brown on one side, and on the other are floor to ceiling windows that show a large courtyard. From what she can see, there are large patches of flowers, a towering tree that is taller than the building itself, and around patio with a set of black chairs sat opposite each other with a black wire table in between. The light of the hallway is entirely natural, and it feels more open than anywhere she's ever been before. There's a beauty to natural sunlight inside a building, she thinks.

The hall stretches onwards, and they pass a dozen doorways. Each door is identical, but Grace itches to see inside them all, her curiosity overwhelming her sense of sensibility. She needs to keep her hands to herself and figure out the best way to escape, not go hunting around a house that is basically a prison to her.

The Butler doesn't seem to notice or care that she's having an internal debate in her head and continues to lead her. The hallway comes to an end eventually and opens up into a staircase that converges with another on the other side, just like the ones she imagines all prom dates starting on, like in Cinderella. It's the most elegant staircase she has ever seen in real life or on TV, with white stone bannisters lining the entire thing and curling at the bottom.

It opens out onto a ginormous lobby with a white grand piano sat atop a bearskin rug in the middle. On the walls between arching windows, there are numerous artworks, some photographs, some paintings, all stunning.

She really shouldn't have expected anything less than this, considering the grandeur of her room.

"What is this place?" she asks the butler.

There are a few moments of silence which Grace fills with waiting impatiently, looking around, always finding something new to stare at.

"Home," the butler answers finally.

If her curiosity were not currently her primary driving force, she would definitely have frozen in her tracks and demanded an explanation to that random declaration. She hasn't had a home in a long time, and if he thinks being locked in a building and refused the freedom to leave equates to being

As it is, she is far too curious to risk slowing down this meet any longer, so she continues to follow the butler as he leads her through the mansion. Though it shouldn't be a surprise, every room Grace sees is filled with taste and expense. Whoever owns this place must be a gazillionaire or something, because one room alone probably houses more than she could ever hope to earn across her entire lifetime.

Suddenly, before opening the door to another room, the butler stops and faces Grace. He wears a very stern expression, even if she can sense an odd warmth lingering in his eyes.

"I have some rules to relay. Failure to follow these rules will lead to punishment. Such a result would be most undesirable for you, so it truly is within your best interest to listen carefully and take heed of my words."

Grace doesn't feel much like being told how to behave in the house her kidnappers have confined her to, but if she doesn't at least act like she cares, the mystery of who is behind the door may never be solved.

"First and foremost," he says, "you must never attempt to leave. You are not permitted to go beyond the walls of the home."

Grace has not seen the other side of the building since she woke up, all windows looking out over the courtyard, but she's sure she saw something before she was completely knocked out. She remembers a vast desert, miles of nothing but dry sand and tumbleweeds.

She's too smart to try and leave without a vehicle to take her. Wherever the van that brought her in is, she'll have to find and use it to get back to town. She's not sure what she should do after that. Find the police, go back to the state home and put this entire thing behind her?

"Second, you will speak to Sir with the utmost respect. You will refer to him as Sir and nothing else. Third, you will wear what you are given, eat what you are served, and behave appropriately. You will be at breakfast at seven thirty, dressed and ready for the day. You will go to your rooms at nine thirty every day. Your complaints will be taken into consideration in due time."

"Oppressive," Grace mutters scowling.

The butler frowns and then opens the door.

"Don't deviate," he whispers as he leads her towards a table in the centre of a large room.

Grace doesn't get why he's lowering his voice. The room is empty. It's massive, larger than the entire bottom floor of her state home, and it's weeping wealth. The table alone looks like it costs around the price of a city, and there are gold candle holders on a grand fireplace that is crackling away in the corner despite being in a hot climate. Whoever owns this place is too showy for their own good, and Grace can't help but roll her eyes.

"Sit here," the butler orders, pulling out a chair on one side of the table. "Sir will be with you presently."

Grace nods, her fingers nervously twisting in her lap, and she tries to distract herself from her anxiety by writing an essay in her mind on a book she read the week before. It helps somewhat, but she still feels a prickle on the back of her neck as she stares into the fireplace, wondering what the hell is going on.

She jumps when the door behind her opens and a man glides into the room.

Oh crap.