A Bedtime Story (7 page)

He remembered his tenth birthday. He had asked for a toy gun he had
seen on TV. He received a real one. His father led him down to the holding cell
where a man was tied up on a chair, beaten to a bloody pulp. It was his first kill.
He remembered how nauseous he felt, he could still taste the bile rising in his
mouth. However, when it was done and his father had patted him on the back as he
seldom did, he felt a sense of well-being wash over him. He knew then he had done
the right thing.

Kayne looked back at the postcard he was holding in his hands,
feeling conflicted. He had Lucas go through Laura’s mail and clear her apartment. It
had taken them over six months before even discovering Laura. Peter had never
mentioned a sister,
smart move
. In the two weeks he’d watched her, he hadn’t
noticed anyone close to her. He doubted anyone would raise too many questions about
her disappearance. They’d assume she’d taken off. What a shame, he thought, she was
definitely worth looking for. He hadn’t mentioned the postcard to Dimitri. Placing
it back on the table, looking at the jumble of random characters and scribbles, he
knew he’d keep it that way.

T
he day was rather uneventful. Laura made
sure and asked Olga whether
Master Kayne
was around before she ventured out
of her room. She went to the library and picked a few books before making herself a
sandwich and settling in
her
living room, which she now baptized as her
reading room. It was a rather pleasant day, all things considered. Olga came in only
once to check if she needed anything and, as always, to confirm that supper would be
served at seven, but she was otherwise left to her own devices. She even found a
sealed pack of cigarettes left on the table in the living room where she had sat the
day before with Kayne. She wondered if he left it on purpose for her. She had a
cigarette or two during the day, making sure she smoked them in the living room,
unsure if she was allowed to smoke anywhere else in the house.

As the clock hands moved toward the dreaded hour, Laura’s nerves
ebbed and flowed. She was unnerved, constantly looking at the clock. She felt
fearful one moment, and the next… It was hard to describe, she didn’t know what she
felt. But that night, when Olga came to fetch her for supper, she was dressed and
ready, her hair down, wearing jeans and a cute sleeveless pink top. Kayne was
already seated at the table as usual, in jeans and a grey sweater. He restrained a
smirk upon noticing her different look, though an amused look remained plastered on
his face. She blushed, inwardly cursing herself for straying from her drab attire.
“Good evening, Laura.”

“Good evening.” She kept her head up, as if unaware of the
smoldering stare he threw her way.

“How was your day?” he added in a jovial tone.

“It was good, thank you.”

“Olga tells me you borrowed a book from the library
yesterday…
Yes, I ask about you
,” he teased in a mock romantic
confession.

“She said it was okay. I asked…”

“Relax, Laura, I told you, as long as you obey my rules… Make
yourself at home.”

She wondered if he saw the paradox in his statement.

“I was just going to ask you which one.”

“Oh… It’s just this book… by Hesse…
Steppenwolf
… I read it a
long time ago.” He kept surprising her with his unpredictable conversation twists,
she could never guess what would come out of his mouth.

“You like Hesse? Well… aren’t you full of surprises, Miss Spencer…”
he teased,
and she was
. Although he could better understand her fondness for
such an author with everything he now knew about her.

Steppenwolf
told the story of man torn from within,
believing he was part man and part wolf. The man in him wanted to integrate into the
world, the mundane society he lived in, even craved it. The wolf within despised his
every attempt to do so. Realizing he couldn’t reconcile his dual nature, he decided
to end his life. He embarked on a mysterious journey and discovered the iconic
Magic Theater
, where the lines between fantasy and reality blur. It was
an unusual and surreal story, filled with despair, poetry, and mystery, but in the
end, with hope.

“You’ve read it?” she almost screamed in surprise and excitement.
He nodded, smiling benevolently. “My mother loved that book. It was hers.” As with
the few times before, his eyes darkened at her mention, his smile, however, remained
intact.

“I see.” She smiled back feebly. “Are your parents… still around?”
she asked, treading uneasily on dangerous ground.

“No,” he answered coolly, the smile wiped from his face.

“I’m sorry.” She meant it.

“Don’t be.”

She wanted to ask more but knew instinctively she
had reached the limit. They both remained quiet for a few moments, her waiting for
his lead, him waiting to see if she would take her questioning further. When he saw
she wouldn’t, his face brightened again. He pulled out a box, gift wrapped
beautifully with ribbon, and handed it to her.

“What is this?” she asked, turning the box in her hand
suspiciously. “A gift. Open it.”

“Oh… thanks?” she replied, her tone suggesting uncertainty. She
unwrapped the gift carefully, making sure not to tear the wrapping. It was a book,
The Kite Runner
by Khaled Hosseini.

“Wow… thank you,” she said, the feeling sincere.

He smiled at her. “Have you read it?”

“No actually. I’ve been meaning to, just never got around to it.
Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, really.” She held the book lovingly, looking him
straight in the eye, wonder and gratitude in hers.

He nodded then gently commanded, “Let’s eat.”

Supper went relatively smoothly, discussing books, authors, but
especially movies. It turned out they both shared a passion for film, though their
tastes varied considerably. She bowed in awe at Peter Jackson’s masterpiece,
The
Lord of the Rings
and rambled endlessly on the many levels
Harry
Potter
could be understood and appreciated. He preferred Korean action
thrillers and Scorsese films. However, they both agreed, smiling at each other as if
on a first date,
The Shawshank Redemption
was possibly the best standalone
movie ever made.

After they both finished eating, he cleared their plates, refusing
her offer to help, and casually asked, “I’m staying in tonight. Would you like to
watch a movie with me? I’ll even let you choose which one…” he added cajolingly.

She hadn’t realized he’d gone out the previous nights. She was
caught off guard, unsure how to respond.
Was it a genuine question
or a subtle command?
She didn’t want to find out, didn’t want to break the
mood. A part of her enjoyed his company, she had been spending her time mostly by
herself. She realized she craved the human interaction, even if it was with a
monster. But was he? She wasn’t so sure anymore. What kind of monster could
appreciate Hesse, see the beauty in
Shawshank
, and admit his favorite novel
to be
The Little Prince
, by Saint-Exupery? Partly in fear of his reaction to
rejection, partly out of the troubling desire to spend more time with him, intrigued
by this unusual brand of monster, she accepted his offer.

He pointed to the couch as he told her to sit and handed her the
remote after selecting the movie menu. As she scanned the menu, she began to feel
chilly, cursing once again the cute but sleeveless top she had opted for. He noticed
her rubbing her arms and offered her a throw.

“No, I’m okay, thank you,” she automatically answered.

“Don’t lie to me, Laura, even out of politeness.” His eyes narrowed
with the slightest hint of threat.

Her body immediately tensed. “Yes please, a blanket would be great.
Thank you.”

He nodded, satisfied, and left to fetch it for her. She wasn’t sure
what movie to choose. He did say she could pick whatever movie she liked, but she
wanted to choose one they could both enjoy. Her eyes fell on
The Usual
Suspects
. She had heard many good reviews about the film but never
considered it as gangster flicks were not her thing. She asked him if he’d already
seen it; he hadn’t.

“Do you want to watch it? Apparently it’s really good.”

“Your choice.” He offered her an engaging smile as he handed her
the blanket and even a pillow, taking the seat next to her on the couch. The movie
started. They had never been so close physically for such a long period. She cuddled
up on the couch, trying to maintain some space between their bodies. She leaned her
head on the pillow she had placed on the arm of the couch facing away from him,
pulling the cover up to her chin. He sat with his legs spread apart, his arms
wrapping the back of the couch, his knee
brushing her feet. She could
feel his warmth and was troubled by it, getting distracted from an otherwise
captivating movie.

Halfway through the movie, his cellphone rang. He picked it off the
table and read the caller ID, then resting his hand gently on her leg over the
cover, he excused himself. “I have to take this.” He walked out of the room to take
the call.

She could still feel his touch where his hand had been. She felt
her stomach knot, remembering her dream,
Yes, Master
… Moisture pooled between
her legs. She squeezed them tight, mortified, and thankful for the cover.

He returned, a pleasant smile on his face, a disappointed look in
his eyes. “I’m sorry, Laura, I have to get going.”

“Oh…” She had paused the movie for him and was about to stop
it.

“No, no. Finish it without me. I’ll catch up later, okay?”

She was never sure when he seemed so benevolent if he was giving
her an order or not, and as the time before, she decided against finding it out for
herself. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I’ll be home late.” With a mischievous smile and a
mocking tone, he added, “Don’t wait up,” before turning to leave.

L
aura slept deeply that night, grateful for
a dreamless sleep. The next day, she went to her reading room and opted to begin
reading
The Kite Runner
. As she settled on the couch, she looked out the
window at the sunny day, seeing the security men guarding the premises. She wondered
again about a possible escape. If she ever tried, it would have to be planned. She
would have to earn his trust enough so he would let her go outside,
and maybe
then
… Even so, she couldn’t hope to outrun the gunmen from the house all the
way to the gate. She fantasized about what she would do if she ever succeeded, where
she would go. She knew they would be looking for her and shuddered at the thought.
She then realized, against all logic and reason, she felt safer with him than she
would on her own. She recalled a quote from
Gangs of New York
, one of her
Scorsese favorites; Kayne’s was
Raging Bull
. In
Gangs of New York
,
Leonardo DiCaprio’s character befriends his father’s killer with hopes to eventually
seek revenge. He describes their complex relationship in one scene: “
It’s a funny
feeling being taken under the wing of a dragon. It’s warmer than you’ d
think
…”

She shook her head as if trying to throw the thoughts off. She
didn’t have the strength to look ahead, plan, and analyze. For now, her main goal
was to get through the day, survive until the next, and, if possible, maintain her
sanity throughout.

She opened the book decisively, opting for the safest escape at her
disposal, within her mind. The story mesmerized her from the first line, and she
didn’t notice the hours go by. Sometime in the afternoon, Olga gently confirmed the
usual supper time. It was almost seven when Laura looked up at the clock and
realized she had under fifteen minutes to get ready. She decided on slim jeans in a
darker hue and paired them with a beige long-sleeved fitted sweater. She left her
hair in a ponytail and decided to forgo
makeup once again. She
realized with a twist in her gut that she
was
trying to look pretty,
for
him
, but in a manner that wouldn’t betray her desire. She showed at seven
sharp on her own and found him sitting on a high stool by the kitchen island. He was
dressed unusually casual, in grey sweat pants and a loose white T-shirt, his hair
pulled in a low ponytail, loose strands tucked behind his ears.

He looked tired and weary, offering her a mirthless smile as she
sat on the stool facing him. It made her feel uneasy, and she wondered if his murky
mood had anything to do with her.

“Olga left early. I ordered us some Chinese.” He pointed to the
bagged cartons on the counter in explanation, a forced breeziness in his voice.
Supper was unusually quiet. She looked down at her plate, throwing furtive glances
when she thought he wouldn’t be looking. He caught her gaze every time.

“So, how was the movie?” he eventually asked, a visible effort to
lighten the mood. That was all it took. She dropped her fork and clasped her hands
enthusiastically. She was dying to share.

“It. Was. Crazy! Wow! I can’t believe I waited so long to watch
it!” She was caught up with excitement. The movie was really good; she had loved it.
And Laura always got caught up talking about books or movies she loved.

“That good, huh?” He softly chuckled.

“Yes! You definitely have to finish it!”

“Why don’t you just tell me what happens?” He grabbed another bite,
amused by her childlike excitement.

“No way! You’re crazy if you think I’m going to tell you!”

His brow shot up. He calmly put his fork down on the table and
leaned as if taken aback, his eyes narrowing, reflective.

She immediately regretted her candor and rushed to justify her
words, panicky. “No, no, no… I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that… I mean…”
She was frantically searching for words, her eyes watering. “I just didn’t want to
ruin it for you… I swear! I wasn’t trying to disobey you or disrespect you or
anything… I
swear… I can tell you if you want me to… do you want me
to…? Please don’t be mad… please…” she pleaded again, having run out of things to
say.

He crossed his arms, waiting patiently for her nervous ramble to
end. “Are you done?”

“Yes… Please, sir…” she implored again, her voice cracking.

He turned his head slightly, half rolling his eyes. “Come
here.”

She got up, hesitantly approaching him, her walk shaky. He offered
her his hand and gently pulled her between his legs; still sitting on the stool,
they met at eye level. Her heart was pounding in her chest, she was almost
hyperventilating.

He put his hands on her waist delicately. “Breathe, Laura…
Breathe…” His voice was soothing, coming through lips curved in a roguish grin. He
gently rubbed her arms, forcibly calming her down. “Don’t you think I can tell the
difference?” His voice was soft as he brought his fingers to her chin, forcing her
to look at him.

A few tears slid down her cheeks. “Yes… I don’t know… please,
sir…”

She flinched as he brought his hand to her face, but he gently
wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb. There was a certain pleasure at the
feel of his rough skin, touching her ever so gently. He caressed her cheek with the
back of his fingers. Bringing her even closer, enveloping her with his body, he
leaned his face to the side of hers.

“Tell me, Laura,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “Why is it you
always call me
sir
when you feel afraid?”

“I don’t know…” she cried, biting her lip.

“You do know… tell me.”

“I don’t know… it just… comes naturally I guess… Please, sir… I
don’t want to go back…
there
…”

He pulled back so he could face her, his expression seemed sorry.
“You think I would have locked you up just for that?”

“I don’t know…” Her eyes were glistening with
renewed tears.

“You really think I’m a monster, don’t you? Answer me,” he added
harshly. With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he then warned her with a deceptive
softness. “Don’t lie.”

Her tears were flowing freely by now; he felt her crumble in his
arms. She didn’t answer, just broke down completely. He sighed, standing up lazily,
and pulled her to him. He brushed the tips of his fingers up and down her back,
comforting her with one hand. With the other, he softly brushed her hair away from
her face while he made shushing sounds in her ear.

He knew she thought of him as a monster. He smiled inwardly.
How
right she was
. He looked at her with fondness as she closed her eyes,
unconsciously, ever so softly leaning into his embrace. She
was
innocent,
though not naïve. Life had not afforded her with such privilege. He began to
understand that was precisely the key to her charm.

He was a monster indeed, the truest kind of monsters. He would not
be satisfied to only make her cower in fear; he would also make her crave his
comfort and render her desperate for his touch. He held and comforted her until her
sobs died down and her breathing slowly returned to normal. He then held her
shoulders and gently nudged her back to stare into her eyes.

“Better?” he asked half smirking, his tone patient.

She nodded sheepishly.

“Good.” Then as if remembering something unpleasant, his mood
shifted again. “Go to bed, Laura, it’s been a long day.”

She staggered out of the kitchen but turned to face him as she was
about to round the corner. “Good night…” She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to call
him
sir
at all times, but she sensed he liked it when she called him
that.

“Good night, Laura.” He sounded pleasantly surprised at her
initiative.

She hesitated a little. “Should I always call you… sir?” she asked,
avoiding his eyes, a faint blush coloring her face.

A wicked smile on his face, he quoted back her own
words in response. “Whatever… comes naturally I guess…”

***

Kayne lay wide awake in his bed. He had received another call from
Dimitri. He was throwing a party the very next day and wanted Kayne to bring the
girl. He was curious, wanted to see her for himself. Kayne’s words carried weight in
the Organization. No one would contradict him or disobey him openly. Those who had
were no more. But even he couldn’t go head-to-head against Dimitri. He had explained
his position as clearly and truthfully as he could. He wanted the girl for himself
and would get the information out of her himself. He wanted to be given discretion
to deal with it as he saw fit. Dimitri had consented, because he could understand
his motives. Pretty women who unfortunately got involved in their world were often
claimed once they had served their purpose. Just like in the old times, the victors
claimed their spoils of war. The women were turned into personal whores, shared as
sex slaves, or sold according to the whims of their holder. Laura was his to claim,
and he had. But this time, it was different. She still had a purpose to serve.
Dimitri was a reasonable man. He allowed Kayne to have his way, provided he got what
he wanted in the end. But Kayne knew he was treading a thin line; whores were never
put before business. He was apprehensive at how things would unfold. What if Dimitri
wanted to have the girl interrogated again? Kayne didn’t know what he would do. He
would try to talk to him, buy himself, and the girl, a little more time. It was his
only option. He knew Dimitri held a certain fondness for him, having been close to
his father, even acting as a second mentor. If it came to it, Kayne would speak on
her behalf, ensuring she remained under his care. He felt the same surge of
animalistic protectiveness he had felt when he questioned her on whether she’d been
abused. She was his, to do with as he pleased. He would not stand by and watch
someone else have their way with her.

He tried to convince himself nothing drastic would follow. He would
reason with Dimitri and have his way as always. He was
earning the
girl’s trust. Soon if he played his hand well, she would tell him, of her own
accord. He knew he could make her. Dimitri would have Peter’s head, he would get
Laura, and they would all live happily ever after.
Well, except for Peter
. He
laughed sardonically in the dark at the fantasy. He derided himself, maybe he
was
in love with the girl. After all, for all his stoic appearance, it
had taken just one look for Lev Malkin to fall helplessly in love with Elena
Galiano. He had seen her at a park, sitting on a bench by a willow tree, wrapped up
in a book. He pursued her relentlessly. She had dismissed his advances without a
second glance, her nose buried in the book she’d been reading. He’d finally
convinced her on a first date by presenting her with a signed first edition of her
favorite book,
The Little Prince
. He proposed to her after their second date.
Not with a ring, but by showing her the library he had built for her. What was it
with women and books? Kayne wondered, then corrected himself, not all women, just
the ones the Malkin men seemed unable to resist.