Elaina Basset
Blurriness.
That's all I felt—that's all I could see. My imagination was a mosaic of fuzzy shapes and sounds.
"How is she still not awake?"
A familiar voice rings in my head, making my brows pull together as my consciousness begins to shift from blurred nothingness to clearer understanding.
"We should have brought her to a doctor—"
"And what the fuck would we tell them, Zayn?"
That's Harry's voice, he's speaking to Zayn—who is supposed to be in the hospital.
"She's fucking unconscious!"
"You think I knew she was gonna pass out?"
My eyes flutter open as the banter wakes me up fully. I still haven't fully processed anything. I'm not sure why I'm hearing Zayn's voice, or why I was unconscious.
I feel tightness in my arms and around my wrists. When I pull at them, I feel cold metal around them restricting me from having use of my hands. Handcuffs.
Why am I in handcuffs?
At this point, I realize that I'm sitting on something —like a kitchen chair—and my hands are cuffed behind my back.
The last thing my foggy memory can recall is seeing's Zayn's face right before everything went black.
But why did I see Zayn? Why was he out of the hospital?
Harry.
I was following Harry. I followed him to the art gallery. I saw Angela. I saw the guys. I caught them in the act of something I'm assuming was illegal.
Oh my god, they're gonna kill me.
I lift my head up, my eyes fully fluttering open to see where I am.
Cream coloured walls and nice furniture. I'm in the kitchen of Harry's villa.
I'm handcuffed to a chair in Harry's house.
Harry's eyes suddenly snap to me, seeing that I was awake and alert now. The second we make eye contact, my heart beat becomes quick and uneven as my veins flood with panic.
"Morning, Picasso." Harry remarks, causing Zayn to look at me as well.
"El—"
Zayn tries to approach me but I immediately lean back in my chair in a helpless attempt to get away. "Don't!" I shout.
Zayn's face falls when he sees my reaction to him, looking at me with parted lips and saddened eyes.
"What is this!" I yell with fear. I just woke up chained to a chair with one of my closest friends in front of me, I'm panicked and scared.
"Elaina, just try to relax—"
"Don't tell me to relax!" I spit, jolting against the cuffs so hard that it hurt. "Why am I cuffed up here!"
"You passed out and we brought you here." Zayn tells me, while Harry leans against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. "The cuffs are just a precaution."
A precaution? A fucking precaution—are you kidding me?
"Unlock me." I say as sternly as I can.
I need to get out of here. These people are bad. Zayn. Angela. Harry. All of them. Right now, I can only see Zayn and Harry in here with me. I don't know where the others are.
"We'll unlock you in a second, just let me explain." Zayn tells me.
I shake my head and close my eyes, dipping my head down in disbelief. "This isn't real."
I can't even go back to our villa, because that's where Zayn lives. I'm trapped and alone.
Zayn looks at me like his heart was breaking, but I knew it had to be an act. If he was so 'heartbroken', then why would he do this to me?
"No one's gonna hurt you, Elaina."
"Bullshit! Let me go!" I snap my head back up to yell back at Zayn.
I have no idea what's going on, or what they were up to...all I know is that Zayn lied to me.
"Malik, go." Harry speaks quietly to Zayn.
"But—"
"Go." he reiterates, "Let me speak with her."
Zayn looks to me as I just stare at the both of them in disbelief over the situation. He looks at Harry once more, before walking out of the kitchen and down the hall where I couldn't see him anymore.
I'm upset and angry with Zayn, but as soon as he left, that meant I was alone with Harry.
"if you were to ever find out what I do...I'd be forced to kill you."
He spoke those words to me earlier, threatening me. Now, he's looking at me and approaching my chair.
This is it.
My heart beats quickly as he grabs another chair and pulls it in front of the one that I'm cuffed to. He sits in front of me calmly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"You followed me. Why." he begins, asking me in a low, but totally chilled tone.
"I..." I hesitate out of pure fear of him. "I knew you were hiding something, and I-I had to see what it was."
He squints slightly, tilting his head as he looks at me in the chair.
"And what do you think I'm hiding, Elaina?"
Whenever he actually says my name it gives me chills.
What shocked me though, was that he didn't seem angry. There was no rage in his words nor his expression, unless he was just really good at hiding it.
"I don't know." I shake my head slightly, staring at him, "I just know that whatever it is can't be legal or else I wouldn't be cuffed to a chair right now."
As he's leaned forward in his chair, he looks at me as the corner of his lips tug upwards into a smirk and he dips his head down with a slight chuckle. He then leans back, crossing his arms and spreading his legs slightly with his tongue running across the inside of his cheek.
"You're cuffed to a chair because you decided to be nosy." he says. "If you had minded your business, we wouldn't be here."
"So you brought me back here and handcuffed me for what? Are you gonna kill me?"
He scoffs. "Zayn suggested to bring you back here, first off. I would've been fine leaving you back at the gallery. And as for killing you, well I haven't made a decision yet."
I look up at the ceiling in growing frustration, blinking away the burning behind my eyes because I didn't want to cry in front of him.
I can feel him looking at me, leaning back in his chair, like he was examining me. I drop my eyes down to my lap, breathing evenly despite how scared I was.
"Tell me, Picasso, what exactly do you think it is that I do?"
All I know is that I saw him and the guys and Angela at the art gallery. I can't just make an assumption because I didn't necessarily see them do anything, however I know it's something I'm not supposed to know about.
Timidly, I look straight ahead at him, hands cuffed behind my back as he had all the power right now.
"I don't...I don't know..."
Still leant in his chair, he just pulls a satisfied smirk. "Good." he nods. "And it'll stay that way."
I shake my head slightly, "Why is Zayn out of the hospital?"
"He got out early this morning and stayed with Niall." he answers. "And you're right, Picasso, there was no motorcycle accident." he tells me this in an almost mocking tone, like he was amused over the fact that I didn't know what was really going on.
"S-so what happened to him?"
He inhales through his nose, shrugging. "Remember how I told you I got into a fight because I pissed off some guys?" he asks.
I nod slowly.
"Same thing happened to him, except he pissed 'em off just a litttleee bit more."
I furrow my brows, trying to make some sense of this but ultimately being unable to. Who did he piss off so badly? What did he do?
I search my mind for things I could ask that he might answer. I have so many questions but can't seem to form a single one.
"Are you aware, as Zayn's roommate, how he makes his income? Well, a good bit of it anyway?" Harry asks me, tilting his head and smirking still because he knew I had no idea.
I shake my head with slight embarrassment.
I live with Zayn and I have for three months. He leaves sometimes to go to work but I really have never questioned what he does—I know that he has a lot of money, though.
He laughs under his breath. "I'll let him explain that one to you, then."
"Angela." I say, thinking of how I saw my best friend with them. "Why is she here? How does she know you?"
Harry looks at me for a moment before chuckling. "She's your best friend, yeah?"
"Yes. From Denver. What is she doing here with you?"
"She works with us." he states, instantly making my head tilt. This made no sense.
"What?" I shake my head, "That...that doesn't add up—"
"It does, you just don't know anything."
This was my best friend that we were talking about. The person I could confide in about anything. She knew every detail about me.
So, does that mean Harry knows every detail?
"How is she affiliated with you? I don't understand."
"I've known Angela much longer than you have, and I can guarantee you that." he tells me.
"How can you possibly guarantee me that? Please, tell me." I remark, just not seeing how all of this was possible.
He smirks, crossing his arms still, then looks over his shoulder and calls out down the hall.
"Ang, come here." he calls out, and before I knew it, Angela emerged into the kitchen from the hallway.
She approaches us with an unsure and guilty look on her face. She hesitates as she looks at me, biting the inside of her cheek.
"What is going on?" my voice drops to a whisper when I see her. She always brought me a sense of comfort, but now all I can feel is coldness. I don't know her anymore.
"Listen, El, I'm so sorry."
I shake my head. "How do you know him?"
She looks at Harry in the chair as he just smirks in amusement. That's the thing about him, he found all of this so satisfactory.
"Can we talk outside?" she asks me, "I think we need to have a private conversation."
I look at Harry, who had control over that. I can't do anything when cuffed in a chair.
"Whatever." he shrugs, standing up and fishing into his jeans pocket to pull out a silver handcuff key and dumps it into Angela's palm. But, as he does this, he looks her dead in the eye. He doesn't say anything verbally, but he said so much that I couldn't comprehend with his eyes. Angela swallowed nervously, like she knew exactly what he was saying.
He then leaves, walking down the hall.
I watch as Angela comes behind me to unlock my cuffs, my hands finally becoming free again. I stand up from the chair immediately and look at her warily.
"What is this?" I question.
"Come outside, please. Let me explain." she goes to grab my hand but I pull away, still on edge.
"I can walk." I tell her, making it clear that I didn't want to be touched by anybody here.
"Okay." she nods, staying collected.
Still so overtaken by what has gone down tonight, I accept her offer of talking outside. We walk to Harry's back doors that lead to his backyard with the pool. It's dark, but I have no idea what time it is. I don't know how long I was unconscious for.
She takes a seat by the poolside, her bare feet hanging over the edge. I sit next to her, with my legs crossed and my hands planted by my sides with my palms on the concrete.
She looks at the pool ahead, and I just can't comprehend that this is the first time I'm seeing her in person in three whole months.
I never would've thought I'd see her again under these circumstances.
"I've been a bad friend." she murmurs, looking at the pool with shame.
"What's going on? Please." I pry, needing information rather than an apology right now. Apologies and heart to hearts can wait. "Harry said he's known you longer than I have...what does that mean?"
She hesitates, looking down. "He's right. He has known me longer."
I shake my head in disbelief. "You and I met in 2017...when did you meet him?"
She sighs and just shakes her head like she was avoiding the answer.
"Angela." I sternly say her name, urging her to answer me.
"Okay, okay." she mumbles, rubbing her temple in stress, then she looks at me and speaks,
"I met Harry when I was twelve years old."
My lips part in shock when I hear those words. I had to blink a couple times to make sure what I was perceiving was correct.
"Twelve?" I murmur at the incomprehensible information. "W-what...how...I'm so confused." my hands come up to rub my distressed face.
I feel Angela grasp my hands in hers, taking them away from my face and bringing them down to her lap.
"Listen, I need you to know that since I've known you, you really have been my best friend. And I love you, okay?" she says.
I look at her eyes to find some hint of deviance or insincerity, but I found none.
"Angela, please just tell me."
She takes a sharp inhale through her nose and nods, shutting her eyes briefly before opening them again.
"When I was twelve years old, Harry was fourteen and he moved in to my house with me, my father, and my mother." she begins as I listen intently. "My father is a carefree, irresponsible man from Manchester who met my mother and had me...but before he met my mother, he had a son with another woman back in England."
I take a moment, looking at her as I process this information before my mouth suddenly drops open as realization floods in.
Oh my...fucking god.
"H-Harry's your—"
"My stepbrother." she finishes my thoughts with a solemn nod. "He's my stepbrother and we share a father."
I look down at my lap with my lips parted in shock as I soak all of this in. I couldn't believe what she was telling me but she seemed so honest and genuine about it.
"Harry and I have a rocky relationship. We don't usually get along as siblings but I do work with him. I feel like he's always held some sort of resentment against me about our father."
I look up at her. "Why did Harry move in with you? All the way from England?"
She bites the inside of her cheek. "I...can't be the one to tell you."
"Harry won't tell me—"
"I can't. I'm sorry." she declines.
I shake my head and sigh, "Okay, okay...so then tell me more about Harry and your relationship with him. I mean, all of those calls you and I had...were you ever actually in Denver?"
Maybe I can piece something together from what she's able to tell me.
"Harry and I are barely in contact unless it's for work. I was in Denver up until last Friday when I went to Salt Lake City."
I arch my brow. "You said you were on a road trip..."
"I was. In some way."
"But not with college friends, right?" I murmur, knowing my answer. "You were with them."
She averts her gaze from my eyes and nods in confirmation.
The guys all left Italy at the same time I did. We were all at the airport together.
"Why..."
I was nervous for the reasoning.
She slightly shakes her head. "I can't...I can't tell you." she whispers.
I shut my eyes with agitation. I'm so tired of being in the dark over this. Why can't anyone tell me anything?
"Look," Angela speaks, "we're involved in some shady things...things you wouldn't understand. I'm not telling you because I want to keep you safe, Elaina."
I snap my gaze toward her again, my brows creasing together. "Keep me safe? Or because Harry would kill me if I knew."
"He told you that?"
"He said if I knew what he did, he'd be forced to kill me." I recall his threatening words.
Angela takes one of her hands and pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling in grief. "Jesus Christ." she murmurs. "He won't kill you, I'm sorry he told you that."
"How do you know he won't?"
She pauses...hesitates.
"I won't let him."
"Is he...even capable of doing something like that? Murder?"
She goes silent and looks down again, her silence giving me my answer.
"Oh my god—" I mutter, feeling panic again.
Angela grips my hand, though, making me look at her. "Harry doesn't hurt innocent people." she shakes her head. "He won't hurt you."
"H-he already fucking threatened me, Angela! Innocent people...what does that even mean?" I spew anxious words to her.
"He was trying to scare you, and it worked." she tells me, holding my hand. "Harry's job isn't to kill, but sometimes..." she hesitates like she was trying to find the right words. "...sometimes it involves things like that."
I shake my head, listening to someone who I thought was my best friend tell me these things like it was casual and normal. This isn't normal, and it isn't okay.
What line of work involves potential murder?
"Are Zayn and the others involved in all of this." I ask, knowing the answer because they were all together earlier, but needing confirmation for my sanity.
"Y-yes." she answers. "They are."
I take my hand away from hers and hold my head in my hands, shaking it slightly and almost laughing over the unbelievable situation. This has to be some sort of ludicrous nightmare.
"I'm sorry—"
"Denver." I snap. "Did you tell Harry about Denver? Does he know what happened to me?"
Angela was the only person outside of the cops that knows what happened that night.
She immediately shakes her head, her face fallen into sadness. "No." she says. "He has no idea, I promise."
If he ever found out about that, I don't know what I'll do.
I stay silent, looking at the pool which was illuminated by blue lights in the void of the night. It was pretty, but admiring pretty sights is the last thing on my agenda right now. Actually, I don't even have an agenda—my mind is just all over the place.
"El—"
"No," I shake my head, cutting Angela off before she can make some sort of apologetic speech. I raise my head to look at her sitting next to me. "I'm sorry, I just can't do this right now."
She looks down.
I huff and press my palms into the concrete to push myself up, standing now.
"Where are you going?" she asks me, still sitting.
"I don't know. I just need to be alone." I tell her as I turn and walk back towards the door.
"Wait—" she says, rushing to stand up and catch up to me. She grabs my arm so I turn around. "Are we like...okay? I know this is a lot, but—"
"I don't know, Angela." I say, not knowing how to answer her. "You've been lying to me."
She's someone I care so much about, but right now I just don't have the heart or the capacity to forgive her. Not tonight.
She presses her lips into a line and just gives me a slow nod of understanding, letting me walk away.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I live with Zayn. My only other option is leaving and going back to Denver.
Denver. Where all my trauma hung stagnant in the air.
And leaving Italy would mean leaving my dreams behind. I'm so close. I promised myself I would see it through and not give up but I could have never imagined these circumstances.
Walking back inside, I'm immediately met with someone in the kitchen where I once was.
Zayn.
He's leaning against the counter with his arms outstretched on the marble and his palms gripping the edges. He lifts his head up to meet my gaze.
All I feel is hurt.
I trusted him...so much. He gave me a place to stay when I came back to Italy. He became such a close friend to me.
Now, I feel like I don't know him.
"Hey." he murmurs.
I don't know what to say to him.
"Hi."
He steps away from the kitchen island, keeping his distance still.
"Are you...okay?"
I scoff and shake my head. "No, not really."
How could I be okay right now?
He looks down for a second, picking at his nail beds on his tatted hands. He doesn't know what to say either. He knows that he fucked up. I just don't know how he can fix something like this.
"Can I take you somewhere?" he asks suddenly, making me look up at him with an arched brow.
"Take me somewhere? After this?" I question, wary of his motives.
"I won't hurt you. I swear. I just think I need to be honest with you and I'd like to show you something." he says.
"How am I supposed to trust you?"
"Would you rather stay here then?" he lowers his brows, his head tilting to the side because he knew what my answer was.
I don't want to stay here. Not in the slightest.
"Come with me, and we'll go back to the villa after." he urges further.
I shake my head, shocking myself over the fact that I'm agreeing to this...but I do miss that villa, and all my stuff is there.
"Fine." I mumble, making him half smile at me.
I still didn't feel any better, I still know next to nothing and for all I know I could be walking towards my downfall right now.
Driving along the empty streets of Milan, the car ride with Zayn was silent. I didn't feel like talking. I didn't feel like letting him talk. Silence was the only comfort I could find—the only thing I felt like I could control right now.
It's nearing 3 in the morning. Dark, quiet, lonesome. The people of Milan are asleep in their homes while I'm here in a car with someone I'm not even sure that I know anymore.
Zayn has never expressed any intention of hurting me since I've known him. I always felt safe with him. He took me in and didn't ask questions. I really, really want to be able to see that side of him still, but I can't. Not right now, anyway.
Zayn parks the car outside of a place I had been to before—a place I've been with him.
We're at the bar he took me to last week with the guys. The same bar that I got drugged at.
Why?
I furrow my brows as I look at the closed building. Despite some of Milan's vintage and rustic architecture, this place was incredibly tasteful.
"It's closed." I murmur to Zayn, stating the obvious but not really knowing what else to say.
He nods, turning off the car. "I know. Come on." he says.
Still confused, I hesitantly step out of his car. I follow him as he walks past the locked front doors which had bars behind them so no one could get in at night.
He walks around to the back, in a back alley where the exit was.
"No, no." I shake my head, immediately ready to leave. "I'm not breaking in anywhere—"
"I have a key."
"Why?"
"Because." he mumbles as he sticks the key in the knob of the steel back door. "I have keys to all the doors."
I look at him, still very conflicted as my brows knit together.
"How do you have keys? To every door?" I question, my stomach in knots. I don't want to do anything illegal.
"Because, Elaina." he sighs, opening up the back door before he continues,
"I own this bar."
I had to take a second, thinking I didn't hear him properly. I stand there with my arms crossed over my stomach as he waits for my response which I just couldn't seem to muster.
"You do?" —was all I was able to say.
He nods his head toward the now open door.
"Come in." he says.
I hesitate, the inside of my cheek between my molars while I debate the options I had...and there weren't many.
Sighing, I toss my head back and ultimately follow him inside the dark bar.
He flicks on a light, illuminating the main level. There's tables with chairs laid on top of them. It's all clean, well taken care of. That's very much like Zayn.
The last time I was here, the bartender put ketamine in my drink. Not a very pleasant memory.
But, Zayn owning this bar now caused a few things to make sense, like how we skipped the line and were able to walk straight over to the VIP section with no interference.
"Why didn't you tell me you owned this place?" I ask.
He leans against the bar counter. "I don't know."
Okay, great. We're getting no where fast.
"Is this what you guys do? You and the guys—Harry and Angela said you all work together."
He shakes his head. "This is my thing. Harry helps out here a bit but no, he has his own way of making money. All of us guys and Angela work in a very specific line of business."
"And that would be...?"
"...not legal." he finishes my sentence, not giving me a definitive answer.
"You were at the gallery tonight and you intended to break in, I'm assuming..." I say, "Why? Were you there to steal something?"
I cant believe I'm having this conversation but I kind of need to if I want to get any answers.
"Yes." he answers. "We were."
I furrow my brows, shaking my head a bit with my arms crossed.
"But why?"
"Galleries are filled with priceless items. Artifacts." he tells me. "A single artifact could be worth multimillions."
Harry specifically asked me if the gallery had artifacts when we were walking around. I also remember him looking at the security cameras.
That whole time, he was plotting. He never actually wanted to come to the gallery simply to tag along.
"So that's it then?" I question. "That's what you guys do? You break into places and steal things?"
That's still not normal, but definitely less intense than I thought.
Zayn shrugs. "I mean, there's a little more to it than that."
I narrow my eyes at him. "And why can't I know what that 'little more' part is?"
Zayn looks at me with his dark eyes, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist as we stand across the bar from each other.
"It's for your safety."
I throw my hands up and shake my head with a scoff of frustration. "That's another thing. I don't understand why I need to be kept safe? That makes no sense."
"Elaina, I know it's a lot—"
"I went from being able to go out by myself to being watched by men in cars. Who are they?"
"They work with us. You're not in any immediate danger, it's mostly me just wanting to take the best precautions to make sure you don't end up in danger."
I look at him with a stare of confusion. I just don't understand why I would possibly be in danger but I know that he won't tell me the real reason.
"So, what can you tell me?" I mutter.
He shakes his head. "Not much. I'm sorry. But, El, I'm still me. I'm still your best friend."
I look down at my shoes with a sigh, scraping the sole of one shoe along the laces of my other.
Zayn doesn't realize how much I care about him, and how much this is hurting me because I feel like I won't be able to trust him in the same way.
He's a criminal. Harry is a criminal. They all are.
"Zayn, I defended you to Isaac this past weekend. He broke my phone because he saw your texts...and I stood up for you."
His brows crease as he looks at me, lips parted open as he didn't expect me to say this to him.
"He what? He broke your phone?" his voice becomes defensive.
"That's not the point. The point is that I was defending you because I thought I knew who you were." I say, watching his face fall. "Now, it just feels like I don't know who I'm looking at."
He shakes his head, stepping toward me. "El, no—"
"Listen." I hold my hand up, stopping him. "I don't know what's going on, and if it has to stay that way then fine. I'm here in Italy for one thing, and that's my painting. I don't intend to give that up."
He looks at me with saddened eyes as I speak.
"I won't say anything or ask any questions if you let me stay here and finish what I came for."
He nods immediately. "Of course."
"But." I start again, "I do have a single condition, and that is, I don't want to be monitored. No more hiring people to watch me. Let me be free to be on my own like before."
These were my conditions, and if they weren't followed, then I'm gone. I'll go back to Denver and move in with Isaac, I don't care.
Zayn hesitates as he looks at me, knowing he had to respect my wishes if he wanted me to stay here.
He shuts his eyes for a brief second then nods.
"Okay." he simply states.
I nod back. "Okay."
I've never felt more conflicted over whether I've made the right decision or not. I love my art and what I do, but is it worth all of this?
It better be.
//
something tells me this deal won't last long...