Victoria never thought she’d miss the drab, poorly lit storage room, but the basement she found herself in was far worse. It was damp, lit by one tiny bulb that swung perilously every time Steven passed it as he paced. The chair she had been forced to sit on was undeniably filthy, with no clean towel to protect her couture this time.
Despite her misgivings about her surroundings, she remained quiet. She knew that speaking up was only going to inflame an already tense situation.
Steven was unrecognisable. That frightened her the most.
His removing a knife from his jacket pocket and leading her from her office into his car took a strange backseat in comparison to the knowledge that the man she’d known for years was a façade.
The kind smile, the light-hearted jokes, the happy disposition were all gone. Now there was a man powered by pure rage as he muttered to himself and stormed around the small basement room as he seemingly wondered what to do next.
She’d gone along with everything he’d said. Handed over her phone, left the office, got into his car, allowed her wrists to be tied, and followed him down to the basement of a house in Brooklyn.
She had no idea where they were. All she knew was that the neighbourhood was run-down. She wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbouring properties were empty, a fact that filled her with more dread.
She sat still with her wrists tied together. She was strangely thankful that was all it was, well aware that he could have bound her to the chair. He’d not taken the time to blindfold or gag her. She didn’t know if that was because he was ill prepared or because some form of fondness for her still lingered within him.
She swallowed back every sentence that came to mind. Further aggravating Steven was not a sensible choice right now. The best course of action was to sit and wait for him to speak.
Every minute that passed was another minute closer to her being missed. Eventually, someone would put the ball in motion to find her. She just hoped the children were safe, hoped that Steven was working alone.
“You had to ruin everything, didn’t you?” Steven suddenly stopped pacing and turned to stare at her, fury in his eyes.
She remained absolutely silent, not wishing to upset him further.
“Victoria Hastings, the woman who goes through assistants like most of us do hot meals. All the same, vapid little girls who just wanted to further their careers. Not a brain cell among them. Until her.”
Victoria tried to remain as neutral as possible as she attempted to figure out what was happening: how her best friend of years had suddenly turned into a monster, what had happened in Paris, and why he was so angry at Holly.
“Not only did you have to keep the girl who couldn’t be blackmailed or bribed, you then had to fall for her. I got rid of her once, but of course she came back like a bad penny, walking around the city like a walking, talking time bomb,” he ranted. “Was I supposed to just wait for her to remember?”
Victoria felt a lump in her throat. Holly had been right. This was related to Paris. Not only that, Holly knew something. Or had done.
“I just needed another three months, but you couldn’t let me have that, could you?” He turned around and kicked a stack of empty paint cans. They crashed into the wall.
“I can help you,” Victoria said, trying to get him back on side before the violence escalated.
He turned and looked at her again. “You can’t help me,” he said. “No, the only thing we can do now is bring plans forward. I’m sorry, Victoria. I really am.”
Victoria didn’t know what he was talking about, but she didn’t like the sound of it one bit. She kept her mouth closed and looked down at her shoes. She needed to bide her time, hope that someone knew she was gone, even if she did think it would be impossible for anyone to find her.
Her dark humour reminded her that she now knew who the culprit was. No more whiteboards and guesswork. It had been Steven all along. The next step was finding out why.