The Chateau (Chateau 1)

“What’s your address?” He dodged the question altogether.

“Are we close?”

“No. We still have hours to go.”

I leaned my head back into the seat and groaned. “I’m gonna have to pee.”

“Hold it.”

The car returned to silence again.

Minutes later, he spoke. “Got a boyfriend waiting for you?”

I turned my head at the question even though I couldn’t see him. “Would I have slept with you if that were the case?”

“There are no rules when you’re a prisoner.”

I stared forward again. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Do I look like the kind of guy to have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know. You don’t look like the kind of guy to save me…, but you did.”

He didn’t have a response.

“You said your mom passed away. What happened to your father?”

“He ran off after Melanie was born.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. We didn’t need his help.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Nope. What about you? Are your parents still around?”

He never answered the question.

“So, you can ask me whatever you want, but I can’t ask you anything?”

“You can ask whatever you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer you.”

I knew when we were in the city because of the sound of nearby cars, the constant braking, the honks from irritated drivers. “Are we in Paris?”

“Yes.”

I pulled the blindfold off since there was no reason to keep it on.

Raindrops were on the windshield, pedestrians were on the sidewalk carrying their umbrellas, the sky was gray because the sun was low and the clouds blocked the light from coming through. We were on the street where my apartment was located.

I took off the safety belt and sat up, my fingertips touching the cold window, my nose pressed against it because I couldn’t believe what was right in front of me. My favorite coffee shop passed by. “Oh my god…” My eyes filled with tears as the city’s glory hit me right in the face, the place that had become home the second I left the airport. Memories washed over me, of romantic dates that fizzled out after a short fling, of nights out with my friends from school, quiet mornings when I went for a run before the streets and park were packed with people. My vision blurred from my tears, looking like the windows covered in raindrops.

He stopped at a light.

I faced forward and looked around, the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

His head was turned my way, and he watched me, his gaze intense, like he was absorbing my reaction so it would be a memory for him to replay on a lonely night. He’d given this to me—and it obviously meant something to him.

I covered my mouth to hold in my sobs, to force my lungs to relax instead of gasping for air.

The light changed, and he moved forward again.

A moment later, he pulled over to an available spot—right in front of my apartment.

I pushed the door open and immediately stepped into the light rain, my hands out to receive the water, to let the rain wash away the memory of my heartache. It washed away my bruises and scars, washed away the former life that had been hell.

I fell to my knees on the sidewalk and pressed my hands against the wet concrete, unable to believe this was real. The passersby glanced at me but continued on their way.

A hand moved under my arm and gently pulled me upright.

My hand immediately grabbed his, and I pulled him up the steps to the main door.

My name was still there, like I hadn’t been evicted. I took the stairs to the third floor, pulling him with me the entire way, my hair and clothes wet from the rainfall. I made it to my front door and saw envelopes in the crack underneath the door. I grabbed one and opened it.

It was a reminder that my rent was late.

That meant my stuff was still inside, exactly where I left it.

I tried the door, but it was locked. “Shit…” All the things I had with me had been confiscated when I was abducted.

Magnus pulled something out of his pocket and opened the door easily, like it was a universal key.

I didn’t ask questions before I walked inside.

Dishes were still in the sink, the smell noticeable because they’d been sitting there forever. The light over the kitchen table was still on. My laundry was on the edge of the couch with the laundry basket on the floor. I grabbed a shirt and brought it to my chest, feeling my old clothes in my fingertips. I dropped it and explored the rest of the place as if Magnus weren’t following me. “Everything is still here…” I took the stairs to the second floor, to the office where I did all my work.

The Eiffel Tower was there—exactly how I remembered it.

The pictures were on the walls, of my mother, of my friends…of my sister.