GHOST OF YOU | BWS

twenty-eight.

I was expecting pretty much anything, getting beaten up, tortured, or even getting a bullet between my eyes, but not to be sitting on a fancy sofa with a cup of tea in my hands while we wait for Reggie. I shift nervously on my seat, trying to steady my breathing and my shaky hands. I can barely manage to keep the steaming water inside my cup. Brad and I have been brought up from the bunker, led to one aisle of the mansion and into what looks like Reggie's office. The room is quite large. A massive mahogany desk sits in front of a floor to ceiling tinted double glass window which oversees the garden. I try not to think of the reason why the windows are tinted while my eyes scan the room. Most of the walls are covered in shelves and books, all looking older and more precious than the next. Expensive pieces of art are on display on the shelves and on the walls, giving the room a museum vibe. Opposite the desk are a dark leather couch on which Brad and I are currently sitting, two matching armchairs opposite us and a glass coffee table in between. Upon our arrival in the room, tea and freshly baked scones were offered to us by a housemaid who left everything on the coffee table before taking her leave, leaving us with two armed guards on each side of the door.

When the shaking in my hands gets too bad, I bring the cup to the table and hide my hands underneath my thighs. What kind of twisted game is this? I look at Brad who looks a lot calmer than I, but also as clueless. I want to break the distance between us, to nestle in his arms and feel his comforting touch. But of course I don't dare move an inch, too scared of what might happen if I do. I can see he's struggling too, his hands itching to make contact with mine. His eyes are desperate to find an escape. He still thinks there's a way out despite the fatality of the situation.

I look at him as his eyes scan the room, memorizing his face, the way his jaw clenches with anger and anticipation, the way his lips purse with focus, or the way his brown curls bounce with every move of his head. There is something mesmerizing about him. Something that ignites something in me. When he notices me staring, he stops his gaze on me. None of us speaks as we let our eyes do the talking. I wish today had a different ending so that I could learn everything about him. What he loves, what he fears, what thrives him. And I want him to know everything there is to know about me. I feel the inexplicable need to offer myself up to him, a need so strong that it is slowly eating me up.

When the door suddenly opens, both our heads instantly turn behind us. My eyes are glued on the tall man who just entered and who is now walking towards us. My body tenses up at his presence. I don't need any introduction to know that this man is Reggie. He looks anything but how I imagined him. His tall frame makes up for his average build, not one tattoo in sight, none that the Ralph Lauren polo he is wearing allows me to spot anyways. His greying hair and scruff tells me he must be in his early fifties and looks like he spends his Sundays on a Golf course, not running one of the most dangerous gangs in the city.

"You have to excuse my men for this misunderstanding", he says when he reaches us, a friendly smile on his lips.

Both Brad and I get to our feet by respect. I stare at the man, not knowing what to do. Is this really Reggie? Why is he being so friendly? But the more I look at him, the more I see the resemblance with James. There is no doubt that the two are related.

"You shouldn't have been treated like this. You're guests, not prisoners. I hope the scones Teresa made help make it up. They are my wife's favourite"

The expression of shock on my face must be easily read as Reggie doesn't give us the opportunity to react.

"But where are my manners, I'm Reginald", he says as he stretches his hand towards me, his eyes only focused on me. "And you must be the famous Joy I heard so much about"

I swallow hard as I place my hand in his, trying hard to keep it from shaking so much, and he shakes it with the same friendly smile he's had since he entered the room.