Forbidden Desires: The Cold Billionaire

chapter 12

After the dessert. Lana was escorted back to the room that she now knew as her new room by John. She didn’t miss the apologetic look in his eyes each time their gaze met. "Do you really have to lock me in?" she said after stepping into the room. John shot her that apologetic look once again, causing her to sigh deeply. She didn’t say anything else and simply walked to the bed. She flinched a bit when she heard the door lock.

Lana sat stiffly on the edge of the bed in the room that was now supposed to be hers. Hours had passed now, and the sun was down, but everything was still the same

She still couldn’t quite believe it, this house, this prison, this twisted sense of hospitality. John had whispered her a good night earlier when he came back to ask her if she was interested in dinner, she had declined, she didn't want to see him... his words hadn’t brought any comfort. Sleep felt impossible.

Her thoughts circled back to the life she had only just begun to build. Her job. The little arcade that smelled faintly of popcorn and metal tokens. She had been so excited to start, even though she’d told her boss she wouldn’t be around for long. Her coworkers had been kind, her boss patient, and for the first time in years, she had felt herself slowly settling into something that resembled stability. She had thought things were finally going to be different. Maybe she didn't have to move yet again.

Now, she had vanished without a word. Would they wonder where she was? Would they think she’d simply quit, run off like some flake they barely knew? She doubted anyone would report her missing. She wanted to scoff.

She had been there only a week. But if by some small chance someone did… what if they stopped the police before the search even began? The thought sent a cold chill through her chest. She knew this Mr Carson was rich. He definitely had the power to do that if he wanted.

Lana exhaled sharply and lay flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was pure white, spotless, without mould or cracks. So different from the dingy ceiling of the hostel she’d rented. That place had been suffocating, cheap, cramped, and damp. She had tried to scrub the walls to chase away the mildew, but the rot seemed to creep back no matter what she did. Every night she returned to it, her chest had felt tighter, her skin prickling as though the very air rejected her. But this sight. It was a beautiful sight, but it came at a cost. Her freedom.

She blinked fast, refusing to let tears spill. No. She wouldn’t cry here. Not in his house. He didn’t deserve her tears.

Getting up, Lana walked to the window. Earlier, she had tried to open it, only to find it bolted shut. But now… it was ajar. Someone had come in while she wasn’t paying attention. She already knew who, it had to be John, the one who had shown her an odd sort of kindness. The same one who had slipped her that dessert. He was the only one who seemed to have some sort of guilt about what was happening. She hoped his guilt would make him help her escape.

The evening air rushed in, cool against her skin, tossing strands of her hair into her face. She leaned out cautiously. Only one side of the window was open, but it was enough for her to fit through. Her breath hitched. The ground below was a long drop. If she jumped, she’d likely break her neck.

Still, the sight of freedom, dark gardens lit by scattered lamps, a wide sky above, stirred something fierce inside her. If she did nothing, she’d always remain under his control. If she tried and failed, at least she’d die fighting for her freedom.

Her hands curled into fists.

“I just have to make it strong enough,” she muttered under her breath. Lana let out a shaky breath and turned to look at the bed.

She worked quickly. She took the sheets from the bed and searched for extra linens in the closet. She took the curtains and tore them from the windows. Anything she could braid and knot together. Her fingers trembled, but determination pushed her forward. By the time she finished, nearly half an hour had passed. A crude rope coiled at her feet, thick with overlapping knots. She tugged at it hard. It held.

“This should do,” she said, her eyes scanning the room till they stopped on a chair at the far end of the room. She was fast and walked quickly to where the chair was.

Dragging a chair to the window, she secured the rope as tightly as she could, then pushed it down, watching as it unfurled into the night. It nearly reached the ground. Nearly. A shaky laugh bubbled up in her throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Too loud, she had to be quiet, she couldn’t risk being heard. The last thing she needed was for anyone to see her and inform that monster. She was sure he would take her back to that dark room, or probably try to choke her to death.

Her pulse hammered as she leaned out, testing the strength of her creation with all her weight. It held. She wanted to yell out in happiness, but reminded herself yet again to be quiet for the plan to work.

“I can do this,” she whispered, breathless. “I have to do this.”

Her heart thudded as she swung one leg over the windowsill. The wind chilled her skin, her grip slick with sweat. She took one last deep breath and began her descent, clutching the rope like her life depended on it, because it did.

---