// SIX //
I feel beads of sweat form around my temple and trickle down to my neck. My hair is warm and some strands stick on my skin. I try to ignore the uncomfort, but something else is bothering me. I stretch my arm to my shoulders, but feel something on them. I feel another presence, another hand. I try to calm down before I address the situation. No one could have gotten in without a key or without knowing where we put the spare we made.
My breathing still doesn't calm, although I am fully conscious and awake. The after effect of my dream still lingers, but I do not remember a thing. It might have been the one with Darius, but I usually remember that one. The mix of a person next to me and the feeling of pain and fear isn't a good one.
I grab the hand that is on my shoulder and squeeze it. I put a little more strenght in it to hear the reaction. A small cry of pain comes from a familiar source. I force my eyelids open and see Darius' face on top of mine. He has a hand above my head and a shy and guilty smile.
Millions of thoughts are running through my head. Is there something wrong? Is this a warning? Is this where I find out he doesn't trust me? Or when he shows me that I cannot trust him?
I cannot think straight. I try to focus on a single thing. His facial features. The moonlight shining on his face make me see his smile. A bit crooked, but a shining white smile. He has a slight hook nose. A lite north are his two big ocean blue eyes that shine and could hypnotize me in an instant. I let them wake me up.
"What are you doing here Darius?" I say rubbing my eyes, trying to shake off my sleep.
His smile falls and he almost feels like he has annoyed me, I think. His eyebrows furrow and he bites his lower lip. Even though I cannot fix my bad attitude when I'm awoken from my sleep, I try to make him feel better. I try to fix the situation.
"Is there something wrong, Darius? Tell me."
I push myself in a sitting position to show him that he has my attention. It takes all of my strenght, but I feel awake when I'm sitting. He sits beside me and plays with the bed cover. He softens it and keeps rubbing it with the palm of his right hand. He almost hides his face from me. I curve my body so I can see his face better.
"I need a place to stay. I'll explain in the morning because it's 3 AM and you need sleep and frankly, I do too. Nobody saw me come in and I'll find someplace before tomorrow night."
I put my hand on his arm before he continues babbling. I don't know if he's loud ornif I'm impatient, but I really want him to stop talking.
"It's fine, Darius. Just don't wake Cass up. She's worst than me," I say hittint my pillow with my hand before hitting it with the side of my face. "There are extra pillows and bed covers in the last drawer in the wardrobe."
"Thanks."
I watch him, turned on my side, take the stuff he needs and set everything on the floor. He shuts the door and slides under the covers. Thank god we don't have wooden floroa. When he turns around and I know he's settled, I let myself fall deep in sleep again. It doesn't take long for my eyelids to feel heavy again.
***
The room almost feels empty when Cass isn't around. Since we're completely settled and still will be here for about two more weeks, Cass decided to get back to her normal daily tasks. I woke up at 8 AM to a sticky note on my forehead. I blew it away before catching it mid air again. With a messy handwriting, Cass let me know that she had left for a run at 7h45.
With a number of huffs and puffs, I manage to get myself out of my bed. I stand on my two feet, staring at my bare legs only covered by very short PJ pants.
I wake Darius by throwing pillows at him. He needs to be up because we have to leave the school before anyone sees him come out of my dorm. He grumpily wakes up, with a bare chest and black jeans, and runs to the bathroom without even looking at me. I take the oppurtunity to change into my outfit and make my bed. I clean up Darius' stuff as well until he comes out.
He walks out of the bathroom, still a few droplets of water on his beard, with a big smile.
"How did you know I hate folding?"
I scoff in a playful manner, "I do now."
He takes the folded bed covers and puts them back where he took them last night. I go freshen up in the bathroon before we both head out. We avoid a couple of early risers, but thankfully, we don't run into any teachers. It doesn't take more than a minute for us to travel the whole lenght of the school to get out, since our dorm is at the far end of the first floor. Joy.
I suddenly remember that I need to tell Cass that I'm with Darius, that I had to leave the dorm and I'll keep her updated. She doesn't answer during her run, but I'll know she'll see it later.
"So," I start as we walk back to the same place we had brunch for the first time. We figured we know the way, it's safe to chose someplace you already know and it saves the time to search for a new restaurant. Most importantly, the food was great so we had to check it out again. I have to take Cass one day.
"What was the deal last night?"
He lifts the hem of his burgundy shirt and lets it fall. He repeats the action a couple of times while he answers. He might be making air or it might be a nervous tic.
"My boss said he wanted to meet with me today. He seemed pissed and serious and told me that if I was a minute late he would barge into my aunt's house and make sure I follow orders. You know how he can make you sure of something, right?"
I nod. I don't need him to tell me. To make sure you follow instructions, they do something that will make you tremble of fear if you ever think of disobeying again.
"I told him I didn't live there anymore to keep her safe."
"Smart move, but times are tough, aren't they?"
"Oh, yeah. I got the call at midnight. I was so damn confused. How do you leave your house at midnight and expect to find somewhere else? So, I went to a friend's house right after, whom couldn't help me. I went to the hotel who said that you checked out. I texted you and Cass and she was the one to answer. She told me where you were and where the spare key was, but she happened to sound asleep by the time I got there."
"I don't know how she does that. She doesn't have a heavy sleep, but she sleeps anywhere. And I mean every single place you can think of. I haven't been friends with her for that long, but I have seen her fall asleep in a random public place at least five times."
"What can we say? It's Cass."
"It is," I say laughing.
"But seriously," I continue, bringing it back to the prior night. "You had a bad night. I'm sorry I didn't have better bedding to offer. And I pulled you out of bed that early."
"Hey, it was more than okay. Thanks."
He has a slight smirk. He appreciates anything that is done for him and always thanks you. He never forgets it. He really is a gentleman and I really appreciate that.
After a long smiling pause, I speak up.
"When is the meeting today?" I say louder, trying to speak up over the cars. Even early in the morning, because 8 AM is unbelievably early here, there are always cars in the streets of Lugano.
"Late afternoon. He sent me a text this morning with all the details. If you want, you can come with me."
I turn towards him shocked.
"How can I come with you? Your meeting is probably regarding me."
"You can come and hide, like I have for all the meetings you have had. Although, I won't push you into such danger."
"You're there to protect me, right? Like you've said every time."
He looks down, almost uncertain that he really can. I don't care give his anxiety and fear meaning. I don't even know if that look mean those things exactly. I believe in him and in the moment of action, I'm sure he'll believe in himself too.
He walks in front of me and pulls the door to the restaurant open. He lets me in first and quickly runs in. Both our bodies were begging for fresh, cool air and finally, we have some.
The AC air is refreshing after getting out of this unbearable heat. My white blouse, though sleeveless, still sticks onto me and doesn't let air travel.
"For two?" The female maître de asks, taking two menus from the small counter. She might have had a big welcoming smile, but I think the first step in greeting a client is actually saying 'hello'.
Darius nods and she leads us to a two party table in the middle of the dining room, lenght wise, beside the bar this time, on the other side of the windows. Once we're seated and she leaves, Darius speaks up.
"Take advantage of the relaxation now, because my boss' place isn't somewhere easy to hide in."
"Where are you bringing this claustrophobic?" He looks at me confused for a second, but then remembers.
"Oh God, that's true. I forgot."
"It's fine. Just don't take me somewhere that won't have anything but a small box for me to hide in. I hate wooden and carton confined spaces even more."
"Why?" He asks playing with the rim of his glass.
"I don't know, really. Maybe because wood is more earthy and I feel like I'm turning into mold or decomposing. Maybe I think I'm too close to parasites or something. I'm weird like that."
The waitress comes and fills our glasses with water. She asks if we want coffee and we both nod. Not a minute later she comes back with two cups and a bowl of milk packs and creams and a bowl of sugar. We both make our coffees. I put two milks and two packs of sugar. He puts a milk and a cream with one sugar. I try to remember. I think coffee tells a lot about a person.
***
My breathing is heavy, but I try to make it as soundless as possible. The sound of the air leaving my mouth almost makes myself shiver, because of the silence that envelops me.
My reaction when I saw the boss' houses must have been priceless because I felt my jaw drop, litteraly. I normally am never very impressed by anything, but this house is something else.
It's basically a mansion. Beige bricks, a driveway as long my street back in St-Moritz, a yard with personal gardeners, that thankfully were not present when we snuck in. It's absolutely gorgeous from up close. Small pots of flowers here and there, a patio with a nice coffee table and chairs. Everything is simple and elegant. I'm still amazed, although the stress keeps me from enjoying anything.
Darius sent me to the back of the house, into a window, for me to use as the entrance to the interior. The room he sent me into is, apparently, the place he always has his meetings with Darius. I could be in the room before they even enter to start the meeting. It's the best way for me to avoid being seen. Anyway, he never uses it for anything else.
The room is basically red and black. The walls are a cherry red with black and white decorations covering the walls. The couches are a reddish, dark brown thay compliments the radiant colours very well.
I'm currently feeling more claustrophobic than ever in a tight closet that Darius locked the moment he came in with Mr. Steven. I heard him greet his boss by that name. I'm surprised that they don't call him by his last name though.
The smell of paint suffocates me more than the walls do, but I close my eyes and let the smells dissipate.
"Darius left for the bathroom," Steven's deep voice booms after a knock came from a door. A pair of footsteps join him in the room. They sound light, but firm at the same time. They have a heel for sure so the person must be well dressed.
"God, how are you going to fix this?" The foreign voice asks, a man's. Probably one of his employees, maybe an assistant since he seems close to him by the way he talks.
"Nothing is ruined for now so nothing needs fixing, Robert. He doesn't know a thing, he only suspects. I have enough collected evidence to throw anyone off and make them believe what I'm saying about the Rufener family."
I know they're out to get me, but I need to know why.
"Darius is especially hard to convince regarding her. You don't think he...?"
"Darius cannot feel a thing. He doesn't have a heart. He cannot love this girl."
It looks different to me. If I was suspucious towards him sometimes, I know I never doubted his heart, even if I almost know he doesn't feel anything for me.
"Most of the things he does for you are to protect someone," Robert says. "Don't you think that means he loves them?"
"No, I think that means that he's a sociopath. He needs to fake emotions. He needs to make people believe it."
"But those dreams are bringing him closer to her. That's why he didn't kill her."
"That's exactly what we want. Those dreams are the most brilliant part of the plan. It's the heart and soul of it all. As long as they remember them, nothing will need fixing."
A door opens again and footsteps continue inside.
"So, shall we continue?" Steven's voice calls out to whom must probably be Darius.
"What did you call me here for?" His voice is calm, but harsh, confirming that it's Darius'.
"I need you to promise me to follow these orders. It's very important to me to have your trust."
I hear the sound of metal clicking together for a second or two, but it quickly disappears. It might be anything. The clicking of a pen, a glass of something, the movement of a bracelet or belt when he walks.
"Okay. What do you want?"
"I need you to make sure that the girl trusts you. May, is it?" A pause. "I need you to make her forget about everything that has her doubting your credibility."
"What would you think is causing that? What do you think is keeping her from believing me?" Darius asks the question in a way that he knows the answer, but wants him to admit it. I can almost see him raise an eyebrow and calmly get closer to him.
"I think you know that better than I do."
When a claustrophobic starts getting stressed, anxious and fears for her life and the one of a friend, a confined space is not the place to be. I'm a string closer to snapping and breaking out of this closet. I constantly remind myself of what Steven could do if I do. But, that just reminds me of how this could all possibly end.
"I do?"
"You do. Think of something that connects you in some way, something that keeps her thinking. Get rid of that thing. Stop her from over thinking and make her trust you without any fears. If you have to make her fall for you then do it."
I close my eyes so I have a less stressful reason for the darkness.
It sounds like he is trying to make reference to the dreams. From what Darius has told me, he never told anyone about them. However, Steven was talking about it with Robert. It's part of their plan, but how and why? How can dreams be part of a plan. The sole fact of us both never meeting and having nightmares of each other is surreal. Let alone have someone plan for those dreams to happen.
"I'll try and find something. I won't disappoint. Anything else?"
"You need to finish what you didn't do the first day. I let it slide once, but it has to be done. She hasn't planted any bombs, yet, so try and get information on her and her family before doing so. But you need to get rid of her once you get what you want. Trust, information and assimilation, that is your to-do list."
I swallow, hard. I cannot believe he is asking Darius to kill. Has he done it before?
"I will, sir."
His voice sounds shaky, but nothing is sure from where I am. I may be mixing his voice with my breathing. I'd rather believe the actions of the Darius I know that is to be calm and steady and to show no emotions.
"That's my boy."
I hear a pat on someone's back, probably Darius', and the footsteps of someone leaving the room.
"He is so naive," Robert says. I hear a chuckle and a snort.
"I cannot believe I raised this boy," says Steven. "So weak, so vulnerable, such a coward. He takes after his mother," he continues before he and Robert burst into laughter. He hits the table a couple of times while he's laughing.
"Oh wow, where is Lila now, sir?"
"Haven't I told you that she's really dead?"
Robert gasps. "No, sir. How? Does Darius know?"
"Oh, I doubt it. She died of a stroke a decade ago, almost. I told Darius she left the city when I won full custody."
I hear a bottle open and a liquid pour in a glass. Considering the class of this man and the low quantity poured, I'm guessing it's whisky. One of those strong liquors.
"He went looking for her I think, when I sent him out of the house a few yesrs ago. He didn't find anything, I guess, because he never talked to me about her. So gullible."
"Sir, another question. How did you get him back in your hands?"
I hear the sound of someone falling in a chair or on a couch.
"I threatened his aunt and his football career. Those are the only two things he cares about. He doesn't care about himself or his dignity. He'll do anything to keep those two things safe. I haven't even made him kill before."
"Well," Robert starts, as if he's trying to change the mood, "there's a first time for everything."
They laugh it all out a bit, maybe a little tipsy from the drinks, and open the door to leave.
I decide to wait it out a few minutes. I need to be absolutely sure I'm alone. I try to shift a little to my right to see through the key hole. I don't see any movement, but I do hear a sound of something sliding against rubber. Maybe the window is being opened, or closed.
I try to look for a sign when something covers the key hole. My breath catches in my throat and I fear the worst. With steady breaths, I slide back to my left and try to hide as much as possible.
The lock turns and the door slowly opens. A masculine figure gets closer and I sigh in relief when I recognize the beard and the washed out jeans.
I look at him with a smile, but that's the most I can give him. I cannot support his secrecy by acting happy to see him.
He looks at me with wide eyes and I look at him with one's full of resentment. He didn't lie, but omitted important facts.
I get up and quickly walk out of the closet. I shuffle through the maze of furniture and almost jump out of the window. I land on the wet grass on two feet, because I thought of bending my knees on the landing.
Unlike Mr. Elmer here that nearly rolls out of the window frame because he lost his balance and didn't have any support below his waist.
I continue walking, quickly at that, as I try to get past the entrance that is basically the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. I hear Darius' footsteps follow quickly behind me, but I don't stop or turn around to see him. I don't give him a glance until we're off his father's property. Once we're in the street, I stop and turn around, making him brake, very startled.
"How could you play me like that? Huh?" I start yelling at him, unable to control myself. "How the hell could keep saying 'my boss this' and 'my boss that' when you could have just said 'my father' from the beginning. Why did you have to hide this from me?"
He gets closer as well.
"If I was playing you, would I have offered to bring you here to eavesdrop the meeting? I brought you, because this was the only way I could admit it to you without having to look into your eyes. I was ashamed of the fear of disobedience that my father portrays."
"That's not enough," I say, still stubborn, even though this might have been a valid excuse if I wasn't this angry. I turn around and start walking. He continues talking behind me though.
"What more do you want me to do? Admit other things I normally. wouldn't so I can have your trust? Then fine, I will. I know the feeling of my father's belt's touch more than his."
I stop in my tracks. I have heard of kids being beaten by their parents. I have read books with characters, even the strongest ones, having fears caused by their parents' abuse. But never have I been friends with someone so strong only to find out that their most vulnerable parts are pieces of a puzzle I never needed to solve before.
I quickly go over the conversation they had in there. I try to remember details that could have told me earlier, without Darius having to utter the words. His father does think of him as less than human and Darius was very tense. I could tell my his unsteady voice, but I remember something else. Something out of place that threw me off. The random sound of metal.
A belt buckle. He was giving Darius a warning as to what would happen if he would fail.
He cannot possibly beat his son with a belt when he's this strong and at this age. The belt is to remind him of what his dad used to do and that he isn't afraid of using a different way to cause Darius pain again.
I face him. I pass a hand through my hair and keep it there, awkwardly, not really knowing what to do or say.
"I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm sorry. It's really difficult to trust and this really threw me off and made me feel weak and naive. I was thinking of myself and I apologize. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you to tell me, especially when your dad is... "
He sighs while he scratches the back of his neck. I don't continue my sentence, but watch his actions. He takes his eyes off the grass and looks up at me.
"You have the right to feel so betrayed, because there's a hell of a lot you still don't know."