Trapped in Paradise

Chapter Five

She's not sure how long she stares for before she forces herself to look away. She doesn't want to be polite, exactly, but even for her, staring is far too rude.

The thing is, she did not expect that to walk in. She had been expecting someone vile, maybe with a deformed face, turning this who nightmare into some kind of Beauty and the Beast situation, but now, looking at the man holding her captive, she wonders if she's the beast.

The man is perfect. Perfect in every way she's ever known and a dozen ways in which she didn't know were possible. She's never believed perfection could take a form, but it does, and that form is sat in front of her right now.

If it weren't for the fact that the dude was clearly psychotic and kidnaps high-school kids, she'd probably have had a major crush on him.

Inexplicably, Grace begins to take stock of his features, to figure out which parts are better than others and search for something that might trigger a sense of familiarity. He can't have taken her for no reason, but she doesn't recognise a single feature, and this man isn't the kind of person you forget. However, every time she tries to focus on anything in particular, he minds starts stuttering, as though it's too nervous to work correctly.

He's got white blonde that that is styled perfectly. His skin is smooth and tanned like leather, but without the cracks. His eyes are piercing blue, and even through his wine-red shirt, Grace can see his tones arms. He's tall, almost six foot, she thinks, and he's clearly no stranger to the gym. She can only imagine what he must look like out of those clothes, chiselled and tight.

Stop, she scolds herself. Stop! He's kidnapped you. You have to be angry at him, not entranced.

"You're shocked by my appearance," he notes with mild amusement.

Grace holds her tongue. She doesn't want to have a conversation with him. She doesn't want to be suddenly docile.

"Your lunch is served," Butler announces into the silence that hangs between Grace and the man.

From the door beside Butler, three people emerge carrying plates, and they place them on the table. They scurry away almost as quickly as they had appeared, but the butler (Butler? Grace isn's sure how to refer to him, even in her mind) remains.

"May I bring you a drink, Sir?"

"The usual," the man drawls.

"And for you, miss?"

"Water, please," Grace asks quietly.

Butler nods respectfully to them both and then leaves. Sir continues to watch Grace, and she finds it distinctly unnerving. Grace wants nothing more than to bolt, but she can't. She knows it would be stupid to even try.

Sir smiles a delicate smile and Grace withholds the urge to shiver. She's not much for allowing herself to fall for games like this, games of dominance, but something about him is so inherently terrifying and dangerous that she can't help but feel the creeping fear crawl up her back just from looking at him.

"You want to stay silent," he hums. "But I know that Butler told you to speak with respect. That means replying when expected. Do you understand?"

Grace stares at him, her eyes narrowing, before nodding slightly. She can put up with it for now. She just needs to know what she's doing here.

"Yes, sir," she says tightly.

He grins at her, all pearly white teeth on show.

"Excellent. I want you to be comfortable here."

"Why?"

His gaze turns cold for a fraction of a second and then settles into a kindly expression. It's so quick that Grace can't be sure she even saw it, but it sends chills through her nonetheless.

"Because you needed help out of the life you were abandoned into."

Grace chews on her lip.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you, Grace Murray."

Grace's hands shake, and she's not sure how to respond to that. It's apparent that he's watched her for some time, though the amount is indeterminable. However, if he knew her as well as he thought he did, he'd see that she was set to be at college this time next year, and things would finally start to look up for her.

"I know you're an orphan, I know you suffer in the life you were left in, I know you were working on getting into college early, and I also know that you would have failed."

"No," Grace denies. "I was going to graduate. I have the grades, I have everything. Colleges were already offering me places."

"The colleges may have wanted you, but the school were not planning on allowing you to graduate early."

"How the hell would you know?"

"Because, Grace, I make it my business to know things. Your counsellor may have promised you were on the right track, but your school is greedy, and your grades helped keep an average, and they weren't going to let you leave."

"I would have appealed," Grace argues.

"It would have led to nothing but wasted time."

Grace is beyond frustrated. Who the hell does this guy think he is? How dare he assume anything about her, how dare he make any damn decisions for her.

"You'll settle in soon enough, my dear. This place is a sanctuary. Everything you could ever want is at your beck and call. You are free to roam as you wish. This is your home now."

"I want to leave."

"Alas, the first thing you wish is the only thing I cannot grant you."

Anger bubbles up, and she doesn't know what to do with herself. Should she throw things? She's never been the outwardly angry type, much preferring to silently fume and work herself into exhaustion.

"You are allowed to be angry, but in time you will come to realise that this is for your own good."

"You don't know what's good for me."

"I do. Now, is there anything else you want?"

"I want the entire works of Justin. J. Allen," she says without thinking. "New."

Justine J. Allen is an author that Grace has grown up reading for years. She loves his work, always had, and anyone who's anyone knows that his entire work spans fifty-three books and would cost upwards of five hundred dollars.

"Done. I will have the books here by the evening."

Stunned, Grace leans back in her chair and absently reaches for a sandwich. She nibbles on the end of it, and Butler comes back with a tray. He hands Grace an ice-filled glass of water and Sir a tumbler of whiskey.

"Thank you," Grace whispers.

Butler winks at her and then makes his way back out of the room.

Grace watches him leave and then turns back to Sir, not sure what she's supposed to do now. This is too weird, and she has no experience to guide her here. The man doesn't seem unhinged, nor does he meet any of the expectations she held in terms of appearance.

However, she doesn't honestly believe that he's giving her the whole story. Something else is going on here, and she guesses that it's up to her to find out why.

It'll be easier than trying to escape, she's sure of that.