“Somewhere Quiet”
1032 Words
*Harper*
The hallway stretched out behind us, though I didn't know if it was a visual effect or if it was the effect of the drug.
I didn't ask who he was. Not yet, and he didn't offer his name either, he just walked beside me, his hand steady on mine until I found my footing. Then he let go. Just like that.
We didn't return to the bar or the entrance, instead, we turned down a side corridor flanked by two towering men in black. They didn't speak, they didn't move, until he appeared. One glance from him and they stepped aside without a word, pressing a button that opened a private elevator behind them.
I hesitated at the threshold. He didn't force me. He just looked back once, expectant but silent.
Then I stepped inside.
The elevator was very quiet, the kind that makes your own breath feel too loud. I leaned back against the wall, just to anchor myself.
He stood on the other side, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was a page in a book he hadn't decided whether to read or tear out.
“Where are we going?" I asked.
“Somewhere quiet."
The floor hummed beneath us. The silence between us stretched, not awkward, but thick.
I gave in. “Why did you help me?"
His answer came slow, deliberate. “Because consent isn't optional. Even here."
Even here.
Whatever this place truly was, he wasn't just a guest. He moved like he owned the silence, the walls, the people.
The elevator opened with a soft chime. What lay ahead looked nothing like the rest of the club.
The suite was expansive and understated; black leather, glass, dark wood floors, a fireplace softly burning behind a half wall of onyx stone. A low bar glowed faintly in the corner, and the floor-to-ceiling windows looked out into the night like a painting too big to frame.
I stepped inside cautiously.
He moved to the bar and poured a glass of water. No alcohol. No games. He handed it to me without a word, and I accepted, fingers brushing against his.
“Do you own this place?" I asked, sipping.
He looked at me like I was amusing. “It answers to me."
I didn't know what that meant, but it felt like the truth.
The water tasted plain. But it steadied me. Grounded me. I didn't realize how badly I needed it until I drank the last drop.
We sat opposite each other, not close, not far. He didn't soften, he was still in control of everything, especially himself.
He studied me with something I could only imagine was curiosity. He was patient, I started to feel thirsty and drank all the water from the glass then left it next to me, on a table.
“Your name?" he asked.
“Harper," I responded even without processing it. Why was I giving my name to this stranger?
He nodded slowly, like that name meant something.
“I didn't come here for this," I added. “I didn't even know where we were going. My sister brought me here."
“She set you up," he stated. It was like he was aware of this, and was merely confirming it with me.
“Yes." There was no point pretending otherwise.
His eyes stayed on me. “You didn't panic."
“I've been through worse," it came from me in a whisper. I could feel the effects of whatever drug I was given, starting to wear off.
“You didn't cry." Another statement.
“Would it have changed anything?" I breathed, more to myself than to him. It was something very unlike me, but it was the honest truth.
Silence again. I lowered my gaze, focusing on my hands, as I needed the room to stop spinning. After a while, he spoke again.
“You didn't drink the whole thing."
“I don't like being out of control, and I don't trust easily."
He nodded once. “Smart," he said, and I knew it was not as a praise, I could see he just reflected on that, yet I felt flattered. “Yet you followed Lance."
I frowned. “He came to me, recognized me. I didn't recognize him at first, but then I did. We had been classmates at the university. He seemed friendlier than at the university. I didn't like how pushy he was."
Why did I need to justify myself?
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “So what do you like?"
That question was dangerous. I looked at him carefully, reading the layers in his tone. He was from another world, and it was a world that took every word literally, so I had to be careful with what I said.
“I like quiet. I like knowing where the exits are. I like earning my power, not being handed it in a glass."
He sat back again, a flicker of something, maybe respect, passing through his expression.
Then he said, “You can leave whenever you want."
I didn't move.
“I'll have someone take you home safely," he added.
“I don't think you're used to people saying no to you," I said.
He didn't deny it, instead, he let a small smile slip, one that was tight, sharp, nothing soft about it. “They can say no. They just rarely do."
The dizziness had worn off, and my body felt like mine again. I stood slowly, placing the empty glass on the bar with care.
“I'm going," I said and stood up.
He nodded once and tapped a button on the wall. A moment later, the elevator opened, and a man I hadn't seen before, tall, scarred, quiet, stood waiting.
“Rafe will escort you," he said.
I walked to the elevator. I didn't look back, until the last second.
He was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me. “Next time you come back," he said, voice even, “come on your own."
I said nothing, but I did hesitate, just a second, before I stepped outside and let the doors close between us.
- Writer
