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Chapter : 7
A stabbing pain shot through her head. Lauren forced her heavy eyelids open. Through her hazy vision, the outlines of the room slowly came into focus.
In the middle of the room was a large table, with two black single-seat sofas positioned on either side. The deep green walls cast a gloomy impression over everything.
There were a couple of nail holes in the wallpaper; judging by the darker patches around them, someone had hung up a picture frame and then taken it down in a hurry.
Aside from the table and sofas, the room was completely bare. Not even a single decorative vase.
No injuries at all…
Lauren stretched out her hand and felt her face. Then she pushed up her sleeve and checked her arm.
Her skin was unmarked, not a scratch in sight. No rope tied her down either, but judging by the way the windows were blocked with long wooden planks, whoever brought her here wasn’t planning to let her leave easily.
Just before her memory cut out, the cloth that was thrown over her face had smelled faintly of herbs. They must have used some kind of sedative plant to knock her out.
She pounded on the large door in one corner of the room, but—unsurprisingly—heard no response. She kept hammering until her clenched fist reddened, then finally slumped onto the sofa.
Lauren tapped the sofa armrest with her index finger.
Her father. The two-headed spider. Maybe just some two-bit group going after anyone with money—or anyone noble.
The steady tap-tap-tap filled the room.
A body without injuries, sofas made of quality hardwood, a room furnished in antique style.
Her tapping grew faster.
So it really is just one person, then.
If her guess was right, at least she’d avoided the worst possibility. Sedric Collins wouldn’t kill her. Probably. But still…
Lauren buried her face in her hands. She’d always thought he was insufferable, but she had never pictured anything like this.
After who knew how much time, the tightly shut door rattled and unlocked. Without bothering to look, Lauren spoke first.
“Bring Sedric. Now.”
Her voice brimmed with confidence.
She forced her tone to stay hard, anything to keep her fear—which was clawing up from the pit of her stomach—from showing. If she froze, she was done for.
No matter what happened, she had vowed she would not go along with Sedric’s plans.
When no answer came, she finally turned her head toward the doorway. A large, burly middle-aged man stood there.
He wore a strange expression, then strode forward until he stood directly in front of her.
“I said bring Sedric Collins. Immediately.”
“Well now…”
The man looked down at her and ran a hand through his rough, overgrown beard. Judging by his reaction, Lauren felt certain she’d hit her mark.
She put on her most arrogant expression and crossed her legs with a snap.
Sedric Collins couldn’t hurt her. At least not physically.
“He never said you’d be this type of lady.”
“And no one told me I’d be locked up in a place like this.”
“I worried you’d be bawling your eyes out, but this is… something.”
“Would you let me go if I cried?”
Instead of answering, the man sighed and wedged his massive body into the opposite sofa, then dug his fingers through his hair.
Lauren stared at him intently. His discomfort was written all over his face—definitely not the lying type.
“I told you to bring Sedric. Now.”
“Don’t you want food, or—or something?”
“No. Bring him.”
He stayed silent for a long moment. Lauren was about to repeat herself when he suddenly asked:
“So what’s going on between you and the count?”
“…Good question. I’d like to know that myself.”
“Well I’ll be damned…”
So Sedric hadn’t told him about the “scar.” Not even someone he trusted enough to request a kidnapping from—and someone he addressed so casually as “that brat.”
With a shameless face, Lauren claimed she was being “obsessively pursued.” It wasn’t even a lie.
“Just—get Sedric.”
Lauren didn’t move a muscle until the man finally stood and left the room.
Begging to be released won’t get me anywhere. And when I see that annoyingly perfect face—what am I even supposed to say?
She clenched her teeth.
By the time Sedric Collins decided to show up, she had torn every bit of leather from the sofa arm with her nails.
If there had been a vase or picture frame in the room, she would have thrown it—but unfortunately, her options for venting anger were limited to the sofa and table.
When Sedric finally opened the door, the armrest looked as though a flock of chickens had pecked it apart.
Lauren snapped her head up at the sound. He stood in the doorway with a tray balanced in one hand. The first thing she noticed was the neatly parted, pomaded hair.
“What about the person I was with?”
“The redhead? Safe.”
The prompt reply made Lauren exhale in relief.
He set the tray—tea, and some desserts—on the table, slipped off his deep blue frock coat, and draped it over a chair, moving leisurely as though this were his own bedroom.
“What’s this supposed to be?”
“Let’s call it a modest tea time.”
“…Excuse me?”
In the center of the tray sat a round cake, baked golden on top, glossy as though coated with sugar.
“I imagine you have questions.”
He sat down, crossed his legs. He looked thoroughly smug.
“Anyone walking in would think I was invited.”
She shoved the tray with the cake to the far end of the table.
“Why am I here?”
“My belief is that you can never be too cautious.”
“So you kidnap people?”
“I told you you’d be seeing me again.”
A flash of fury made Lauren clench her fists. She had tried to dig at his nerves, but it felt like talking to a brick wall.
“You won’t have any discomfort while you’re here. Whatever you need, I’ll compensate you fairly. Money, a house—within reason, I’ll provide it.”
“While I’m… staying?”
“Yes. This is your new residence, Miss Bailey. It will be safer than your home.”
Was there anyone else on earth who could say You’ve been kidnapped, and you live here now so casually? Lauren wondered if she’d misunderstood.
“That’s not the point! I was brought here against my will!”
“If you want to go out, I’ll assign someone to accompany you. Frequent outings may be difficult, but not impossible.”
“Sedric!”
“And when you’ll be able to return home, well—uncertain. But I am working—”
Lauren hurled the cheesecake. The dense cream smacked his chest and splattered onto his thigh.
Sedric stared down at himself.
“Working? Uncertain? You think babbling fixes everything? Do you even hear yourself?”
Lauren’s voice dropped to icy calm. Sedric picked up the mangled cake, set it neatly back onto its box, and calmly wiped his hands with a handkerchief.
“I’m not sure. Would things be different if I apologized?”
“They wouldn’t be like this.”
She answered firmly.
Sedric folded the cream-stained handkerchief and stood. Lauren flinched instinctively.
His green eyes—unnervingly calm—slowly traced over her. He stared so long she finally grimaced.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just thinking I should’ve brought a second handkerchief.”
He gestured toward the cream on her own hands, then balled up the soiled handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. Instead, he picked up the frock coat he’d folded neatly over the sofa back and laid it on the table.
“The material’s horrible on the outside, but the lining is quite decent. Wipe your hands with it first.”
The lining did indeed look very soft.
