Born to die - Playing dangerous I

T H R E E

Adelaide’s P.O.V.

The feeling of being watched is, in my opinion, one of the most terrifying feelings you could ever experience. There’s just this…this helplessness and panic and despair hanging to that feeling, that makes your heart beat so hard you think it will break your ribs like they’re pine-needles and get out of your chest. And when you’re asleep, it gets even worse, in case you thought this wasn’t possible. The helplessness, the panic, the despair, they only grow and grow and grow, until you can’t take it anymore. And then you jump up awake and hit your head on something solid.

My head throbbed from the sharp impact and everything spun around me, making me grunt and put one hand over my squinted eyes, shielding them, while the other one cradled the spot of my head that I had just banged.

Cold sweat covered my forehead, nape, back and chest, liquefying the dried blood on my skin. My hands felt clammy and filthy, and my whole body itched irritably. Among the feelings of being raped, and being watched, being dirty would definitely conquer a stand on the ‘Worst feelings I have ever experienced’ platform.

A shiver ran down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck raised in horrifying awareness. I removed my hand from my eyes but closed them immediately and groaned when a bright sunray blinded me. I kept my eyes squeezed shut for a moment, before opening them again. My vision turned white and I blinked, until I could finally see clearly.

Panic rose in my chest, causing me to jump up again and make frantic movements that even I couldn’t fathom, once I realized that I was in the opened trunk of a car. And not where I had parked the night before. This place looked like a deserted parking lot in the middle of nowhere.

“Κλείνω, ξύπνησε.”

(I’m hanging up, she woke.)

I froze.

My blue eyes flicked up and locked with a pair of light grey ones, so light they looked almost white. Emotionless. Heavy and invasive, as though they were staring in my soul. And cold. Colder than ice. Colder than anything I had ever seen…

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it and stared at him further instead. Because, oh mon Dieu, never before had I seen such a symmetrical face. With his sharp features, light eyes and dark hair, he was the epitome of masculine magnetism. He was so…perfect that using any other word to describe him felt like a blasphemy. Quite frankly, perfect felt like an understatement too.

“You stole my car.” A distantly familiar deep voice with slightly rough edges snapped me out of my daze and sent a violent shiver straight to my core. “Not a smart move.”

Merde…

(s**t!)

Is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? The mere idea of s*x disgusted me so much after everything I had to endure, that I thought I would never in my life experience that feeling… Which made this situation even more obscure. One man’s face and voice made me feel things that I wouldn’t be able to feign for Rowan or any other man I had ever seen, in my wildest dreams of an acting career.

Concentre!

(Concentrate!)

Realization hit me in the head like a ten-pin bowling ball, once my brain managed to overlook this man’s pristine face and smoky, silvery voice and grasp the words that he had just said to me.

The Professional.

The assassin.

Adonis.

It was him…

And, God, did he live up to his name!

Despite my obvious attraction to him, terror lodged in my whole being. I blinked. I opened my mouth to speak but only a string of incomprehensible words made it out of my dehydrated throat. Where, who, why, what, how…

The Professional’s head tilted the slightest bit to the side, as his frigid, assessing gaze penetrated my skin. I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for the letter-opener beneath my nighty, just to touch it and maybe feel the tiniest flicker of control. But it wasn’t there… I unclearly recalled handing it to Noemi to put in the ignition-

Noemi!

I jumped so abruptly that I hit my head in the trunk-door above me again, only this time I did with so much force, my vision blurred and I saw stars. I forced myself to close my eyes and slowly count to five before opening them again, while taking a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Where is Noemi? What did you do to her?”

He remained unmovable, icy and observant for a long moment, before speaking. “Do you speak English?”

I blinked, stunned.

He had spoken in French. But what was more worrisome was that I had spoken in French and didn’t even realize.

“I speak English just fine. Where is my friend?” I said in English, trying to suppress my French accent to prove my point even more.

He took a step back from the car and jerked his head back. “Get out.”

I eyed him suspiciously and made no move.

He waited for three seconds, before reaching up for the trunk’s door.

Understanding that he was about to close it and lock me inside a “Wait!” escaped my mouth, making him halt and look at me.

Feeling a little dizzy, I leaned on my hands behind my body and got each one of my legs out of the trunk, before hopping to the ground. I stammered a little once I was on my feet, and subconsciously reached for him to steady myself, but he took a single step back, as if the mere idea of me touching him brought him distain. Ignoring my offended ego, I reached for the car instead.

A flicker of disapproval passed in his eyes, before he spoke again. “You’ve stained my car.”

I’m also pretty sure that at some point, I had crashed and scratched his car too, so the fact that he only mentioned the staining part seemed a little bizarre, especially when taking his line of work into consideration. Perhaps he could be a clean-freak or have some OCD tendencies. He certainly did look the part... Or maybe he was a germaphobic or something. Although this felt a little contradictory with him being an assassin and all.

I looked at my hands and down my body, still covered in blood. Then my gaze moved on to him. Tall. Muscular but not bulky. Broad shoulders. Strong arms. Straight lines. Too straight lines.

Too perfect.

Everything about him oozed control and precision, and then, there I was, covered in blood, sweat and dirt, touching his perfect car…

“Pardon! It’s just that I didn’t think a killer would have a problem with a little blood…” A hint of annoyance tainted my voice. “Where’s my friend?”

(My apologies!)

He assessed me for a few more seconds –the epitome of perfection staring down the definition of mess– before turning his back on me to close the trunk-door.

In the mere seconds that he had his back on me, I contemplated disappearing, but Noemi’s fate in addition to the memory of him shooting someone who was standing behind him, without even turning to look, deterred me from attempting such thing.

“Come.” He said simply as he started walking towards the driver’s door, with his back still on me.

My eyes narrowed into slits and before I could think twice about it I crossed my arms over my chest, stomped my foot to the ground and let an irritated “No.” leave my mouth. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

He paused, but didn’t turn to look at me immediately.

I swallowed hard. “Where.Is.My.Friend.”

“Get in the car.” His voice was calm, but the look in his eyes made all blood run cold in my body. It was a hard, solid you-do-as-I-say sort of look. Not up for discussion, and definitely not up for objection.

Gritting my teeth and swallowing my pride, I made my way to the passenger’s side, but not without murmuring “Won’t I stain your car now?” on my way there. I opened the door, got in the car and slammed it shut with a little more force than necessary.

I felt his icy stare digging a hole to the side of my face, but I took my time, securing my seatbelt, before turning to look at him. I gave him the innocent expression that I had mastered over the past few years, only this time I didn’t forget to add a small batting of my lashes, just to make sure he was aware of my petty intentions.

Self-preservation has left the chat…

“I see they didn’t tame you, did they?” He drawled, his eyes still on me.

My chest tightened at his words, but for whatever reason, I had started this game with confidence and sassy comebacks, and switching to submission now would only show weakness. And it would also mean I broke character. I never break character.

“I’m intamable.”

“Untamable.” He corrected drily.

I pursed my lips and let out an aggravated breath, because I had said it with so much pride and confidence, and for what? Besides, I really didn’t like being corrected. Usually, this would be the moment I would say something about Americans only speaking English, which isn’t even a language of their own, but I had heard him speak three languages already, so this argument was unfortunately out of the equation.

“Same thing…” I murmured, then my tone changed to a demanding one. “What did you do to my friend? If you hurt her-”

“If I hurt her, what?”

I closed my mouth, my eyes narrowing in the corners. My heart however was beating so fast at the mere thought of Noemi being hurt, I thought it would explode.

“Your friend is fine. She’s with an...acquaintance of mine.” He finally responded.

I didn’t know if I should be relieved or even more scared or suspicious, I didn’t know who or what this acuaintance of his was and what he was planning to do with Noemi, I didn’t know why they had separated us, or why I didn’t have a clue how they had managed to do so without me waking up… But bizarrely enough, relief dwelled in my chest, and I realized that for some reason I did believe him. My mind told me not to, but my gut didn’t care. I would go with my gut this time. I had ignored it last night, and look where this had gotten me. Besides, it's not like I had any other options here...

“Why did you separate us?” I asked finally.

“Because you’re untamable.” His answer was sarcastic, but the calmness and coldness of his tone didn’t falter.

I narrowed my eyes. “How did I end up in the trunk and why do I not remember anything?”

“Watch your tone, sweetheart. You’re in enough trouble already.”

He turned his attention away from me and started the car.

“I’m a light sleeper.” I stated, mostly to myself, as I put two and two together.

“I’m intrigued.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t.

Realization hit me, and I glanced at him, accusation written on my face. “How did you drug us?”

The slightest hint of amusement played in his eyes. “Air-conditioning.”

Dammit.

I sighed. “And let me guess, you also have a tracker device in your car, which is how you found us…” I knew stopping was a freaking bad idea.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. I knew the answer.

“So what is it then, you rape me, kill me and throw my body to the…the…la marais, or take me back to Rowan?”

He wasn’t amused. “Which one would you prefer?”

I didn’t even hesitate, before answering. “The first one.”

“I have no intention of raping you.” He said finally.

Well, this was a surprise.

“C’est nul…” I pouted. “Just killing me and throwing me to…la marais then?”

(Bummer…)

“Swamps.” He provided.

I frowned.

“The word you’re looking for is swamps.”

Frustration clawed at my chest, but I ignored it. “So the swamps it is?”

“Taking you all the way to the swamps would be an inconvenience.” He drawled.

I almost laughed. “Pardon… What is it then? A dumpster? A ditch? An old lady’s porch?”

“The last one sounds like a good option…” He mused.

“Shame… I was hoping for my ashes to be scattered in the ocean, like Maria Callas’.”

I hadn’t let my sarcastic side roam free for a long time, and now that I did, I just couldn’t stop. The comebacks left my mouth before I even realized, but apparently not only didn’t he mind, he even played along.

“This can be arranged.” Was his dry reply.

“So, for real now, what do you want with me?” I sighed and slid farther down in my seat, my legs bending, knees resting on the edge of the dashboard.

He momentarily glanced at me with condemnation, before turning his attention back to the road. “I don’t want anything with you.”

I pursed my lips. “You’re missing out, but whatever. Where are you taking me?”

“Back to your master. He misses you.”

My face fell. “No! You can’t do that…”

“I can’t?”

All sarcastic comebacks evacuated my mind and my body started drowning in cold sweat. At this moment, I didn’t care if I had to beg, blow or threaten him, I would do anything.

“Please don’t take me back there! I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” He repeated his previous words.

My breathing turned into panting, my heart beat like drums in my chest and my body started shaking, as panic and despair overwhelmed me. Cold sweat made my skin clammy and the dried blood started running in small streams.

Begging wouldn’t do in this case, so I had to bring out the big guns. With trembling hands, I reached for the hem of my skimpy nighty and took it off, staying only in a lacy thong. “I’ll do anything !”

His gaze flicked to me -my face- with indifference and a hint of annoyance, before he spoke in the same calm, cold tone. “Put on your clothes. I told you I don’t intend on raping you.”

“It won’t be rape. I’m offering.”

He shook his head slightly. “To save yourself. Would still be rape if I f****d you.”

I froze, because this was new to me. Men didn’t even ask before doing anything they wanted to my body, and I was offering myself to him in a silver platter, and he wouldn’t even look at me? Not only that, but he was a man, who knew that rape came in many forms; saying yes or even offering s*x out of fear, being one of them.

Maybe I should make him believe that I meant what I said…

His eyes narrowed, when he caught me staring at his groin in contemplation, and that was all it took for my own eyes to water as hopelessness settled in me more, and more, and more.

“Please, just kill me!” I ran a hand through my long, messy hair in despair, as tears started running down my cheeks.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, as he turned his attention back on the road.

I took a deep breath and wiped my tears, smearing blood and sweat on my face. “What about Noemi? Are you sending her back too?”

My brows knitted together in confusion as those words left my mouth. Why would he separate us if he was just going to return us to Rowan? Why not just keep us drugged and locked in the trunk for the whole ride?

A glimmer of hope eased the despair in me, just a little bit.

“You don’t have Noemi.” I stated.

Had she managed to get away? I really hoped so.

“My aqcuaintance is taking her to her family.” He said, which left me even more confused.

“But-”

“She was abducted from the streets; she wasn’t sold to those people by her father. Her family is rich, and they want her back.”

As scared as I was for myself, a heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders, knowing that Noemi was safe and would soon reunite with her family.

Suddenly his words dawned on me and I snapped my head in his direction, brows knitted together, cautiousness obvious in my tone. “How do you know about my…father?” The word left a bitter taste in my tongue.

I efficiently avoided talking about this rather sensitive subject to anyone. So far, I had only told Victoria, not even Noemi.

This man was not my father. Not after everything he did to my maman, and then to me. He was the source of every single misery in my life and I would never forgive him, even if he ever begged for my forgiveness -which I’m certain he would not.

(mamma)

“Do you know what I do, Adelaide?” The tip of his lip twitched, but his tone remained low, cold, calm. And it seriously gave me the chills…

I swallowed. “How do you kn-”

“Your name?”

I opened my mouth, closed it.

“Adelaide-Estelle Vaillant, 19 years old, French, from Paris. Deceased mother, Nélia Vaillant, OD-ed four years ago, one day after your birthday, wasn’t it?” My bottom lip trembled and my eyes welled up with tears at the mention of my maman. “Gambler, alcoholic father, Darrell Basset. Owed tones of money to Albanian Mob, so he gave them his daughter instead, for them to use in one of their brothels. Only that 14 year old virgins are worth much more than common prostitutes... So the Albanians sold you for 30.000€ to a local politician, who had his hands deep into s*x-slavery. And you made him 3 million euros richer, when Rowan Moore bought you...”

I stared at him, tears running down my cheeks, my teeth biting hard on my bottom lip, trying to keep my rising anger at bay. I don't know how he could possibly have my whole life-story memorized. Not even I knew that I was bought by a politician before being sold to Rowan. Until now all I knew was that for some reason, back then I was taken from a dark, filthy cell to a lavish mansion, where they trained me and other girls to become s*x-slaves. I had spent almost a year there.

“My point is, Adelaide, I make sure to find out everything there is about the people who f**k with me and cause me trouble. And you’ve caused me enough of that.”

“You gain millions from a single hit, but you’re right, what a terrible inconvenience it was that I stole your precious car, while running for my life…” I rasped, blinking the tears away and wiping my eyes with the back of my palm.

The corner of his lips tipped the slightest bit. “Stealing my car is the paltriest one of the problems you’ve caused me.”

What the heck is paltriest?

My brows knitted together in confusion. “What else did I do?”

“Put your clothes back on, sweetheart. We have a long ride ahead of us.”