WORLD OF TWISTS: The Billionaire's Slave

THE MAN

"Shh, make no sound," the man grunted. "No one can run forever. Not even Usain freaking Bolt. Shh..."

After he said these things I became confused, because the voice was kind of familiar. I tried to speak but his hand was tight over my mouth. But after some time he said, "I am going to take my hand off your mouth, but promise not to make any sound." I bobbed my head in agreement and he let me go.

I immediately ran from him to a safer spot, still wielding my frying pan. But he was a man I knew. Harrison's favourite bodyguard.

"Smitty?" I said I surprise, feeling a warmth in my cheeks. And then the pleasure turned to anger. What was he doing here, after setting me up with the gang? And how the hell did he locate me?

"Hi, Veronica," he said, smiling sweetly. "I never thought I could find you."

"What are you doing here?" I fired at him. I saw his eyebrows lift in confusion. "Don't give me that look! You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I honestly do not."

"Who sent you? How did you find me here? Have you come to finish me off?"

"Can you stop this madness and listen to me!" he snapped. "You didn't even offer me a seat."

I observed him. To the natural eyes, he looked harmless and honest. But from what I've faced in life, I no longer trusted people easily.

"This isn't my house," I said, "and I'm not allowed to entertain visitors, not to talk of ones who sneak in through open gates like bulgars." My voice caught itself in my throat. Seeing someone from Harrison's mansion after these two days had a nightmarish, nostalgic quality to it.

"I am on your side, Veronica, as I've always been," he said, his hands extended in front of him. "I told you I'll find you if I needed to—"

"HOW did you find me?" I asked again. Glazer had assured me here was untraceable.

He slacked his shoulder and looked around. "You still have that bank card I gave you, don't you?"

I frowned, realising. "The bank card was nothing but a tracker?" I asked, bewildered.

"It's also a bank card, though. Please let's get to the living room. I don't want to send the wrong message to you or the owner of the house."

I shifted uneasily on my feet. "I can't keep you here any minute longer. What did you come to do?"

He didn't answer immediately. He looked hurt at my impatience. "Veronica, I don't understand what you're doing. It is me, Smitty. The one who saved you from Harrison."

"You didn't save me from anyone!" I snapped, completely tired of his lies. "You only pushed me to a cunning Uber driver who kidn*pped and brought me almost to my death. Are you going to deny that now?"

He shook his head. I jumped at this. "See? You admit it!"

He was quick to defend himself. "No, no, no, that's not what I mean. I'm just surprised and worried that you passed through that. Seriously, I had no ill intention towards you. Never will I. Come on, do you not see it in my eyes that I am deeply concerned about you?"

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. Did Smitty just confess this before me? I swallowed hard, deciding not to sound overly excited. Besides at this point, I felt nothing for him.

"Why did you tell me to run away?" I asked him. Since Glazer had refused to answer this question well, I wouldn't let Smitty go till he did.

"This kitchen is stuffy," he grumbled even though it wasn't. "Let's get to a spacious place. Here's giving me kinky suggestions."

When he winked at me, I turned down my lips at the corners. There was an energy about him that I found rather disturbing. It started from that time he snuck into my room, urging me to flee the mansion. Maybe I was exaggerating or seeing things that were not there, but I'd get to find out sooner or later. If Smitty was whom he claimed to be.

As he settled into one of the two small couches in the living room, I told him, "Do not feel relaxed. If the owner —"

He interrupted me. "You've been saying owner for a long time. Who the hell owns this place?"

"Someone you can't take lightly," I said, remembering the gunshots as Glazer ended the lives of her partners in crime to save me. "You really don't want to mess with her."

Smitty shook his head. He was as muscular and round headed as most of Harrison's bodyguards. I still couldn't understand why he took interest in me.

"A she," he said, as his voice kept rising. "Was she the one who kidn*pped you and locked you up here away from the world? Your world?"

"What damned world are you talking about, Smith?" I thundered. "What? The world where the entire household is against me? Where Harrison treats me worse than trash. A world where I don't know when next I'd be bundled to prison because of what my father did? Is that what you call my world?" I stood up. "Please use the door if Harrison has sent you to destroy my life the more. Tell him you didn't set eyes on me. Please!"

"I offered you a better life; I am not your enemy," Smitty said, calmly. "You see, that bank card I gave you, I've been saving up for a special project, but... but..." His words seemed to choke in his throat. He stared at me piercingly. I knew what was coming, then I did not. "Since the very day I saw you walk through that gate in your compound, I knew I had to protect you. But you never looked my way. I tried severally to get you out of that prison, and this was my only chance. If Harrison finds this out, I'm a dead man."

"Harrison didn't send you here?"

He shook his head. "He is all over the place searching for you."

"How's he feeling?" I asked, cutting him off.

He stalled before answering. "He looks worried of course but who knows?"

"Who washes his clothes and prepares his bath?" These questions were stupid and were coming from where I couldn't understand. Even Smitty was glaring at me.

"The maids, of course," he grumbled.

Do some of them sleep in his room? I wanted to ask, but I was able to hold it in. I didn't know why, buy the thought that Harrison was doing just great without me, and his baby, wasn't comfortable.

When my eyes turned to face Smitty again, I saw on his face the exact expression Glazer had given me earlier that morning.

"You care about him?" he asked now, rising from the couch and pushing towards me.

"I didn't say that," I argued. Once again, my heart began a double beat under my breasts. "Will he hurt me because of my pregnancy?" I asked Smitty.

His facial features were still knotted in a deep scowl. "Yes, but I don't plan to take you back to him."

"Yes? He'll hurt me?" I just needed that assurance!

"Yes!" He palmed his face. "Isn't it obvious enough that your pregnancy for him is causing this fuss? Why didn't the kidnappers take you until you got pregnant?"

It was then I took a step closer to his face and asked him a question I'd been meaning to ask. "And how, Smitty, did they know I just got pregnant, knowing fully well that that information is only between you and I?"

He hadn't expected this question, so he opened his mouth and closed it. And just then, there was the sound of Glazer's car. She was speeding down the valley towards the house. The house had alerted her of an intruder. Smitty and I were in big trouble.