Hack away
1263 Words
Chapter Three
The dagger never touched her skin.
It hovered there, close enough that Gloria could feel the cold blade, close enough that her mouth was moving without permission.
"I'll sign it! I'll write the f*****g book!"
Then Viktor stopped.
He had achieved the desired result.
“Say it again,” he said calmly.
Her chest heaved, and her throat was burning badly.
“I’ll write,” she whispered over and over again.
Viktor straightened immediately.
“Louder.”
“I’ll write the damn book,” she said, voice shaking. “One chapter a day. I’ll finish it.”
He nodded once.
“Good.”
The dagger was returned to the briefcase. The tools followed.
Her cuffs were removed.
Gloria slid back into the chair, legs weak, as her heart hammered.
“This,” Viktor said, sliding the contract toward her, “is not coercion. You were given options. You selected the most efficient one.”
She looked up at him, hatred burning through the fear wrecking through her body.
“You threatened to cut off my foot.”
“And you are still fully intact,” he replied. “Outcome-oriented thinking is important.”
She stared at him.
She hated him.
Gloria didn’t read the documents.
She didn’t skim them either.
She simply scribbled her signature anywhere it was required and shoved the papers back toward him.
“You better sleep with one eye open,” she said calmly. “Because I’ll f*****g kill you the moment I get the opportunity.”
The ease with which the words left her mouth surprised even her.
A few hours with a psychopath, and she was already beginning to sound like one.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Viktor said, almost amused.
“You’ll have the entire estate at your disposal,” he continued, as if she hadn’t just threatened his life. “Library. Gym. Bar. Bakery. Indoor and outdoor pools. Gardens. Spa wing. Tea room.”
He paused.
“You are not to leave the premises without one of my men. At any point. Do not attempt to harm yourself; suicide would be an inefficient loss. You are a valuable asset now.” His eyes flicked to her face. “Your quarters have been prepared to be as… homely as possible.”
He stood.
“Stay out of my private wing. Happy writing.”
***
The bar was empty.
It looked like the kind of place obscenely rich men hosted tasteless parties; it had polished marble counters, dim lighting, bottles she couldn’t pronounce lining the walls. One attendant stood behind it, silent and watchful.
“Give me your strongest s**t,” Gloria muttered as she dropped onto a stool. “I almost got my foot cut off today, so I think I’ve earned it.”
She pressed her palm to her forehead.
She was burning up.
The bartender poured her a drink. She shoved it aside and snatched the bottle from his hand instead.
“Thanks,” she said flatly.
The laptop sat on the counter beside her.
She’d found it waiting in her quarters, perfectly placed on the desk. Brand new. Untouched. With a note from Viktor that had made her physically gag.
Never in her life had she imagined herself using a Apple MacBook Pro. The thing probably cost more than three months of her rent.
Now she sat curled in the corner of the bar, bottle in one hand, laptop in the other, gulping the alcohol hoping it would buy her a moment of peace.
It didn’t.
The screen glowed to life.
And the cursor blinked patiently at her.
Waiting.
*
Gloria was only three hundred words in when the bottle in her hand ran dry. She pushed it aside, banged on the counter, and pointed to another on the wall. The bartender pulled it down and passed it toward her, earning a flash of her grin.
“You know, if you were half as hot as your psychopath boss, I’d definitely f**k you,” she said, pressing the second bottle to her mouth and wincing as the liquid burned down her throat. The alcohol was kicking in.
The bartender walked away toward the telephone on the wall. After a few seconds of hushed conversation, he returned to his post.
She was halfway through her second bottle and barely conscious when the bar door opened.
“Thank you for calling, Mike,” Viktor’s voice rang through the room, making her eyes flutter halfway open.
“Heyyy, if it isn’t… Mr. hacker… hack… hack away,” she slurred, trying to wave her arm ineffectively.
“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning?” Viktor’s voice was cold as he forced her upright, pushing her eyelids open to inspect her.
“A… are you a djocktor now?” she grinned, patting his face.
“Please don’t touch me, Gloria. Behave yourself,” Viktor said, pushing her hand away. He slammed her laptop shut, picked it up, and hoisted her over his shoulder, ignoring her frantic drumming on his back as he carried her out of the room.
Gloria groaned as her stomach flipped, the world tilting violently every step of the way. She slapped weakly at his back. “Put me doooown,” she muttered. “I signed your stupid papers. I wrote your stupid words. I earned my stupid drink.”
“You earned a stomach pump,” he replied flatly.
Cold air hit her face as they entered a long corridor, the marble floor gleaming beneath dim lights. Her head lolled to the side, vision blurring. She laughed softly. “You’re mad,” she said, like it delighted her. “That’s cute. You kidnap a girl, threaten her foot, then get jealous over liquor.”
“I’m not jealous,” Viktor said. “I’m annoyed.”
“Same thing,” she murmured.
He stopped abruptly, shifting her weight so she slid down his front. Her feet barely touched the floor before he pinned her there, one arm braced beside her head. Gloria blinked up at him, unfocused, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.
“You don’t get to destroy yourself,” he said quietly. “Not on my property.”
She laughed again, softer this time. “What if that’s my new favorite hobby?”
His jaw tightened. For a second, she thought he might actually yell. Instead, he just exhaled through his nose.
“You are not allowed to die,” he said. “You are not allowed to numb yourself into uselessness. You write. You eat. You sleep. You stay alive. Those are the rules.”
She squinted at him. “Wow,” she whispered. “You sound like my dad. Less ugly, though.”
That earned her a warning look. He scooped her up again, this time cradling her with irritating care, and resumed walking.
By the time they reached her quarters, Gloria’s head was spinning too fast to fight anymore. Viktor kicked the door open and laid her down on the bed, stripping her of the bottle she’d somehow still been clutching.
“Asshole,” she muttered, eyes sliding shut.
He stood there for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, listening to the uneven rhythm of her breathing. Then he pulled a blanket over her and stepped back.
“Sleep it off,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Tomorrow, you start writing properly.”
As he turned to leave, Gloria’s voice followed him.
“I’m still going to kill you someday.”
Viktor paused at the door and smiled.
- Writer
