Chapter 15 - Adley

After the morning's sins, I fell back asleep again, waking up sometime around ten. I never slept in, and on top of that, there was the fact that I'd had sex with Ivan twice and done quite a bit in the shower in the span of twelve hours.

I could hardly recognize myself.

Who even was this girl who enjoyed being dominated so thoroughly like that? Who was this person who knew she should be questioning things a lot more but had been content enough to give herself over not once but twice?

A sigh escaped as I sat up and stretched. I needed to get out of this bed, out of this room, and an actual shower was likely the best way to wake my brain up. I padded over to the closet to retrieve a set of clothes and hopped back into the impressive shower with the water set to cool.

I hadn't noticed it when I was using the tub, but the shower was more like a massive platform off to the right side of the room from the door. The water came right out of the ceiling in a gigantic square fixture that had to be at least two feet wide. It rained down from above, the square surrounded by a skylight that let the sun in.

There was also a traditional showerhead with a detachable option. The rainfall showerhead was put to shame by the one in the ceiling, but it could be angled to shoot forward with it, creating a wall of water that fell from nearly every angle.

Plus, there was the damn handheld nozzle. The whole shower was decked out.

And adding to the shit I'd never seen before was the fact that the shower was wall-less. It was completely open, and you stood on a large square platform, about six inches off the ground, that had a lip of a few more inches to catch all the water.

The wall at the back and all the shower's structural pieces were a swirling marble of white and black. The entire area that could be considered the shower was about seven feet by four feet, and on the marble wall was a large bench built into the back beneath the hot and cold knobs.

The glass walls throughout the rest of the bathroom made it look like I was out in the trees, and the shower was actually butted up against one which featured a sliding glass door. I'd opened it, curious about the temperature outside, and God, I was so glad that it was warm.

With the patio door open, the plants and trees that were there, including those hanging over the house and stretching their branches across to the roof, could spill inside. It was like I was taking a shower outside with all the plants that crowded the patio and decorated the room with their large pots that went right up to the edge of the shower.

The room was alive with green and bright light and the sounds of birds.

When I finished, I switched the water to the handheld nozzle and used it to water all the plants within reach. It did the job perfectly, and the water just drained right into the water without having to worry about cleaning up.

This was by far my favorite thing so far.

Still, there was a lot of house left to explore, and if Ivan and his brothers were out, that's exactly what I intended on doing.

***

I'd walked the entire upstairs and middle floor when I decided that in addition to checking out the bottom floor a little better, I also needed something to eat.

I knew where the kitchen was, but there was a nagging part of me that didn't want to stop snooping around until I found more to go on when it came to Ivan's shady dealings.

I could guess what kind of work he did. Hell, he'd been pretty forthright, but I'd always been naturally curious, and I wasn't going to be satisfied until I had more evidence that I could see for myself—hold in my hands.

After a few more tries, I found another closed room that wasn't entirely open to anyone looking. It was near the back corner of the massive house, and when I stepped inside, it looked like an office.

The back two walls were solid at the bottom, with large windows going from the center of the wall to the ceiling. In the center, there was a large desk with a computer and several shelves around it. As I walked up to the desk, I noticed the neat presentation of Ivan's datebook and supplies. I ran my fingers across the ridges of the planner's wire spirals.

Sitting in his chair, I studied the top and front of the desk. There were drawers built-in beneath, and I took my rounds opening them. The top was more pens and shit, the bottom was a file drawer that wasn't used that way, holding a small, black leather bag instead.

I unzipped it, and inside were tools I'd never seen before.

"The hell?"

I picked through them a bit, but all I could guess was that it was used to break into places or something. I had nothing else to go on.

However, when I reached for the smaller drawer above that one, it was locked. My interest peaked, and I searched his desktop for something I could use to get it open.

A small letter opener shaped like a dagger was kept in a small jewelry-like box off to the side. I took it out, feeling the solid weight settle against my fingers. It was a glimmering silver and sharp.

Gently, I slid the point of the letter opener through the thin gap at the top of the drawer. I knew it would do me any good in the lock itself. So, I threaded it between the wood pieces at the top, hoping to be able to move the latch over and disengage it.

In just a few minutes, I heard the satisfying click, and I smiled. I'd figured out how to get into my dad's desk as a kid, and I was a little tickled to see that those skills were still alive and well.

Inside the drawer were passports, a gun, a small metal box with a combination lock, and a set of handcuffs.

"Jesus," I whispered.

The passports were all images of Ivan and his brothers, but the names changed on each one. My stomach pinched down, and my worries about the guy's day job began to solidify.

I took out the metal box and set it on the desk. There were six numbers needed for the combination, and I racked my brain. I didn't know why I was trying so hard to snoop like this. Ivan had told me to essentially not do this exact thing, and here I was.

Still, I had to know. I needed to understand who I was living with, who'd "bought" me in not so many words.

An image of Ivan's cheek came to the front of my mind, and I remembered the numbers tattooed there.

"Zero four, zero six, nineteen eighty-one."

It didn't work. There was one other unaccounted-for string of numbers that had been tattooed just beneath that one. If I was even remembering them correctly.

""Zero four, thirty, nineteen eighty-six."

Still nothing. I sigh, about ready to give up. No, come on—one more try .

"Maybe if there's a zero…I don't need it."

I started punching in the numbers—four, six, umm, three, hmm…Wait. I hesitated, but after a moment, I decided to try eliminating the duplicate numbers too.

"Four, six, three, eight, one, six."

The electronic lock beeped, and the box clicked.

"Holy shit. That worked."

Opening it up, I was terrified of what I might find. Strangely, however, what lay inside didn't seem all that sinister. There was a bunch of cash, sure, and some of it was from different countries, but beyond that, there was just a little black book.

I picked it up and scanned its contents. Inside were several names, phone numbers, addresses marked as "known" or "safe house," and several notes attached to each name. They detailed things like the next contact and last known location on some. There were even some with allergies and medical conditions listed.

And then it hit me.

This was a list of Ivan's enemies. Anyone Ivan knew was listed in this book, with personal, private information about each one. This book would be deadly in the wrong hands. When I noticed the line slashed through several, I had to assume that those particular individuals weren't a concern anymore.

My stomach clenched, and I dropped the book back into the box. Shoving everything back in the drawer and slamming it shut, I rushed out of the room and right back into the confines of Ivan's room.

Guessing that someone worked for the mob was one thing; having proof of it was another.

My heartbeat raced higher with each step, I paced around Ivan's room.

"What am I supposed to do? He's a fucking killer! I…Oh my God, I need to leave. I have to—"

My phone chimed, and I looked over to where it sat on the nightstand. I rushed over. The message was from Molly.

Hey. Hope you're okay. You didn't say much yesterday.

Ryan and I are

Worried.

But seriously, this is huge. Can we really go? Are you sure?

Also, that guy is hot as hell. He's your boss?

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Molly was always so interested when a hot guy came into the shop. The raging hormones of a teenager were not something I enjoyed dealing with, and I was just glad that my folks would be the ones to deal with the "birds and the bees" talk once Molly was old enough to actually start thinking about having sex.

You know, in like a year from now.

And hell, she was just so excited about going to college in a few years. I wanted her to go and experience life. I wanted Ryan to be able to go. He was so incredibly self-sacrificing, and the guy deserved a break.

Being the only boy, our traditional parents always put too much on his shoulders, and I did what I could to take some of the weight as the oldest. But Dad was still convinced that Ryan was the only person who could do the heavy lifting. Hell, he was ripped because of it, and the poor guy hadn't even kissed anyone yet.

Yeah, because adding gay to the list of things would not make Ryan's life easier. He only came out to you last year, Adley.

A heavy sigh hit me, and I typed up a response to Molly.

Hey. Sorry. I'm fine, though. Don't worry. But yeah, Ivan is…he's not really a "boss" boss. He…

My fingers hesitated, but I owed my sister more than a brush-off. She told me about the guy who got handsy at her first dance. I needed to tell her about this.

He's sort of in with some crazy shit. But he can help. And those friends of his will really spend money at the shop. I had to. You know, for Mom and Dad.

Plus, you're not wrong about the hot thing. We may have…you know. Don't tell anyone.

It was barely a second before Molly's text came back, and I giggled as I read it, so grateful for my goofy sister and her unshakeable loyalty.

HOLY SHIT. Really? Nice! And yeah, like I'm going to tell anyone. Ryan says he supports your move to somewhere nice and parent-free. I want details, though! Later anyway. Mom has us going to the market for new produce. Shop's reopening tomorrow. Big whole thing.

My heart squeezed, and I plopped down on the foot of my bed, cradling my phone between my hands as my eyes stung.

Oh, good. I…I'm sorry I can't be there. I love you guys. Really. Details later if you can manage to actually help Ryan. Don't make him carry everything. He'll tell me if you do. Talk soon, k? Love you.

Ugh, you're so not fun. Okay. Later. Love you too.

Stillness crept back in, and I was immediately itching to move, to run, to fucking do something. I hated being cooped up in this house like a prisoner, but what exactly was I supposed to do?

Ivan had been pretty clear about sticking around, and…I still wanted to know more about him. Despite everything, he intrigued me. And it was unlikely that I would forget how he looked at me—or stop wanting that whenever I could get it.

Looking over toward the duffle I'd brought, the black tote bag I'd snagged with my art stuff lay next to it. It had been a while since I'd had the time to just sit and paint, or sketch or draw, for that matter.

"Not a lot of options. So…"

I stood up, crossed the room to retrieve my stuff, and pulled out the large sketch pad and the set of pencils and charcoal I kept in a small tin.

No ideas flew into my head as I set up the paper in front of me. I was definitely blocked, and that's when it hit me.

When I couldn't sketch, or the ideas dried up for a moment, I always went back to the basics, filling the pages with figure drawings. It was hard to go off of nothing. I usually used a reference. So, it was back to another old standby: setting up on the floor in front of the mirror and using myself as the model.

My fingers picked up the motions, and I remembered how to create the shapes as I sketched furiously. After a few minutes, the mood changed, and I surrendered myself to the artistic impulse.

I was different. The light and surroundings were different. Opening the patio door even more, I let in the sounds of nature and then sat back down in front of the sizeable full-length mirror that was propped up in the corner by the tub.

The wind rushed over my skin as I studied how the light hit me in that spot—dappled and full of contrast, thanks to the shadows created by the trees and their leaves.

A thought pinged.

Who am I beneath the layers of who I was? Who's at the core of it?

Pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the side, I fluffed up my hair, letting the long waves cascade around me. I pulled off the leggings I'd chosen, and there in the mirror, I studied the woman seated there, scribbling her down onto the page.

Everything else melted away.