Trapped in Paradise

Chapter Eight

Grace is once again stunned into utter silence. There is nothing she can say to that terrifying proclamation, and so she simply stares. It's not exactly a surprise. Their conversation earlier that same day suggested as much but hearing it out loud made it so much scarier.

What on earth would this man, this billionaire, want with her? She's just a scruffy seventeen-year-old with no parents, little prospects and she's not even that pretty. There are girls in her class that are far more beautiful than she is, so why is Grace there? Why would they want her when there are so many better options from the same pool she was plucked from?

Not that she wishes this upon anyone else, but the question haunts her.

"Don't worry yourself about it too much," Sir advises.

Grace doesn't reply. She doesn't touch her food. She doesn't even move. What exactly is this man expecting from her? What could she possibly have to offer? Couldn't he find someone willing to live with him? Someone that wants to be there and that doesn't mind that he's the creepiest man to exist, ever? Someone who wants to live in the lap of luxury and never work, people that Grace knows exists.

"Eat, don't think about it too much."

Grace does as she's told, not tasting the food, but feeling electrical currents surging through her sporadically. She feels incredibly uncomfortable right now, and has no way to vocalise it, nor does she think it would have any effect.

Even with his chilling words, and the frightening situation she's in, she can't help but feel like everything is far less dramatic than it should be. Sure, she's scared, but she doesn't feel like she's in immediate danger. Why is that? Is it because Sir exudes a calming presence? Because everyone is acting as though her being there is normal? Because, even though Sir is saying he's had his prying eyes on every aspect of her life for the last few years, the way he says it seems to indicate that nothing about the situation is unusual?

Whatever it is that is making her feel this way, Grace hates it. She wants to feel adrenaline spikes, to experience panic that forces her to find a way to escape. Instead, though, she finds herself almost complacent. Ambling towards a solution, rather than racing.

"Were there others?"

Her food forgotten again, she glares over the table at Sir, who places his cutlery on either side of his half-empty dish. If he feels any anger at her interruption of the meal, her speaking without being spoken to, then he doesn't show it. Instead, his lips pull up at the corners with a warm smile.

"No. Only you."

That's so much worse, Grace thinks. Worse because everyone thinks this is totally normal, even though it's statistically not normal.

"You say you've been watching me for a while. Why?"

"That's more difficult to answer. Maybe another time," Sir replies softly.

Frustration flares, but she bites her tongue. She's not entirely sure she'll be around long enough to hear this explanation, and her curiosity will be the end of her if she purposely stays long enough to learn about it.

For now, she decides to keep thoughts of leaving at the forefront of her mind.

~

It's been an entire week since Grace first woke up in the estate. A whole week since she first met the characters that inhabit this twisted story of hers. Abstractly, a week isn't that long, but when you're forced to stay within the confines of someone's imposed rules that you never agreed to, a week is a lifetime.

Much to her chagrin, Grace has found herself entering a kind of routine. Most of it is out of her hands, such as when she wakes up, and her meals, but the rest of the day, as she's repeatedly been told, is time she has to spend at her pleasure.