Emily turns over, squinting into her open curtain's daylight, wanting to shove them closed and fall back asleep again, but she knows too well if she gets out of bed she isn't getting back in. Letting out a groan she turns over to the other way again, covering her head with the blanket so she doesn't have to face that blinding window.
As she does, she immediately notices the odd gritty, sticky feeling of her body and looks down to notice she is still wearing her swimsuit and coverup from the day before and she tries to remember why that is. She does remember the agreement in the car, Alexander saying that he would show her so she wouldn't get herself killed in the process. But then the question is when, hopefully today, she muses, deciding that she's done beating around that particular bush and throwing off the covers in major need of a shower.
She knows she should probably wash her sheets and blankets as well, but she is far too lazy to do so, besides, she doesn't even know where the washer is.
Stripping down and showering quickly, trying to keep her hair out of it because it is still pretty good from the previous day, she gets dressed in the usual pair of leggings, tank top and oversized cardigan that makes her feel small, a feeling that she quite enjoys. Obviously not the cutest outfit in the world, but it is a very comfortable one.
Brushing out her hair before flipping it into a messy bun directly atop her head, twirling the stray hairs in circles to try and keep them out of her face around the hairband. Glancing at her appearance she tries not to groan at the reflection staring back at her. She is far too pale and clearly a little sunburnt on her back from taking that nap. She had the feeling that was going to be rather agonizing for a while.
Keeping her head on her shoulders, she opens the door to nearly get hit on the nose by Alexander getting ready to knock. How could she have forgotten that he was right outside the door?
Memories of last night flood back to her in that instant, the dead man, the guns, the agreement. The agreement. She swallows hard, trying to keep herself under control and not freak out immediately. Today is the day, she is going to figure out everything and she is going to finally get those damned answers.
"Miss Emilia, would you like to have coffee with me this morning?" His voice isn't what it had been last night, it wasn't angry or harsh, still cold but slightly cajoling. Encouraging her to say yes to the rather odd invitation. Did he mean like a date? Or was he only trying to get her alone and out of the house?
"I'd be happy to, just let me put some shoes on." Emilia leaves the door open as she goes to put on her pair of tennis shoes, definitely not wanting to make the mistake of heels again. But as she goes to snatch her phone from the table just in case a hand is placed on hers and she looks up questioningly at Alexander.
"Let's be on our way, shall we?" He asks, giving the smallest shake of his head as she tries to grab it once more, tugging her hand slightly to get her moving. That in itself seemed slightly ominous, she didn't generally travel without a phone, just for emergency reasons, but this seems important to him that she not bring it.
Frowning slightly she nods and follows him out the door. She had to admit, she was expecting it to be considerably more difficult to not only ask him about it, but for him to take the time to talk to her. But it seems he spent nearly as much time thinking about this moment as she has, and came to the conclusion of how to show her. Or maybe just tell her.
Emilia can feel her heart racing in her chest as they climb into the car and peel out of the gate for the third time. Each time they had done this, something bad had happened. First the photographer at the club, then the docks. But with every one of these occurrences, it has been her fault, she had told him to take her to the Red Room, she had forced him to go to the docks, but now it is his turn. And her turn to trust him.
Pulling up to the too familiar coffee shop of Books, Brews and Bakes, she can't help the apprehension that takes hold of her body, making her tremble ever so slightly at the last memory. When Alexander had shown his gun, the gun that had killed another man only the day before. Suppressing the shudder at the memory, her imagination taking hold of what the man had looked like for she had never seen the body.
The opening door puts her thoughts on hold as she slides out, gripping unnecessarily to his hand as he pulls her upright into the dim and cloudy day, looking as if the sky would crack any moment and let its tears soak them in minutes. She lets her hand drop from his and walks inside, relaxing immediately at that soft tinkle of a bell and the glorious smells of baking treats and fresh coffee grounds.
She glances back at Alexander who motions to a decently private seating area, two cushioned seats in a corner, incased by bookshelves and a small reading table between them. Like the rest of her favorite place in the world, it is a pairing of yellow and teal blue, mismatched pillows making it all the more comfortable.
As Emilia takes her placed, sinking back nervously and glancing around to see if anyone has noticed her odd company. The only one staring is a rather terrified and hungover looking Brittany with her fake tits poking out of her too low cut V-neck t-shirt. Her solution is to ignore the person that annoyed her to the point of near murder as Alexander grabs himself a black coffee and her usual hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and coconut milk. He also grabs a pair of muffins, a chocolate chip and lemon poppy seed, her absolute favorites.
Coming back with mugs and a plate perfectly balanced, as any former waiter would know how, he sets them down on the table and takes his own seat. What makes her nervous is that they aren't to-go cups, these are real ceramic mugs and a frilly plate like all of their mismatched dishes. The fact they are actual dishes and not the makeshift paper ones, implies they will be here a considerable amount of time.
All she manages is a mumbled thanks as she eagerly takes a sip of the cocoa, burning her tongue and giving herself a decent sized whipped cream stache in the process. Quickly licking it off she finds him staring at her intently, waiting for something to happen or for her to start this conversation. But she is not taking the bait, she is not beginning this. He said that he would show her, and he better show her.
Her determined expression finally gets a sigh out of him as he sets down the straight black coffee that she couldn't even sip without scrunching her nose at the bitter water.
"Right, I said that I would show you what is really going on. " He is so hesitant that doesn't even look her in the eye, for the first time looking nervous as he plays with the edge of his jacket sleeve in a rather cute fashion really. "But first, there are some terms."
Emilia can't help the scoff that escapes her lips as she falls back into the seat, of course there are terms, how could she be surprised by that! Her anticipation is beginning to turn to irritation and a hint of anger at his reluctance. She had waited long enough for these answers, she had done hours of research, and now finally someone was willing to give her something, and it had "terms".
"Emilia, what we are doing is very dangerous, if anyone finds out that I have told you or shown you a single thing about this, I will be 6 feet under and you will never see daylight again, understood?"
These words made her shut up rather quickly, his voice so serious that she has no doubt that this is the truth. But how could Mr. Delmont have the power to do such a thing and not get caught? Surely she would be missed, and a murder does not go unnoticed easily. She hadn't looked for dock news yet, but she was certain there would be something about that man's death.
"Understood," She finally responds before meeting those eyes that make her heart patter out of her chest. "But, you can't hold back, you have to tell me everything, answer any questions I have, anything, understood?" Her counter is not greeted with much enthusiasm on his part.
Biting his lip he lets out a low growl of damnation for what is about to do, "To the best of my ability."
"Then what are the "terms"?" The word has a bitter taste like black coffee in her mouth, at least it wasn't as sour as Mr. Delmont's rules had been, but it still held some of the same aftertaste as those had.
"To start with, you can't tell anyone, not your mother, not Jasmine, no one can know about this. Secondly, you have to act normal, if you change your behavior in anyway, HE will notice, and we will both be in very real trouble. And lastly, "He takes a deep breath at this one, "you can not lookup this information on any device, no research, nothing for clarification."
Emilia wanted to protest, how could she trust anything that he is telling her if she can't confirm it with things like basic research? But at the same time, curiosity rages through her and she leans forward again, "Why can't I research anything? I've already done some, what does it matter if I keep digging?" She asks, it is a fair point after all, she had already found more than what Mr. Delmont wants her to know, what would be the harm in continued research?
"Because, your computer is being key logged and monitored, and your cellphone has been bugged."
Her mouth drops open at this very obvious invasion of all privacy and splutters slightly at the indignation that swamps her. "Does my room have cameras in it? Are all my clothes tagged? Am I allowed any privacy?" She asks, suddenly her anger and anxiety on high alert at the thought of something. If there were cameras what had they seen? Her changing, the camera, everything? She felt suddenly as if all eyes were on her, had seen her naked body, and that she were somehow tainted by that fact.
"No, but if you keep up your investigation, they might be. Their privacy and confidentiality is extremely important to them, and they won't risk any leaks."
She takes a deep breath and finally asks the question that means the most to this conversation, the one thing she really wants to know.
"Who are they?"