Dollface

Part 9

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His eyes watched me intently as I left the bathroom of the McDonald's we had stopped at. I had an incredible urge to go to the bathroom and luckily he was feeling a bit generous at the hour. Even though I threatened to piss in the car, he really had no choice.

S: Let's go.

The drive to the airport was quiet and lonely, it felt like a ghost was driving the car.

I: What are we going to do when we get to Italy?

He sighed heavily and moved his head from side to side. As I expected, he didn't give me an answer.

I: You'll probably talk to my dad about this first, right?
S: Isabell, shut up before I tape your mouth shut.
I:I don't see how you're going to get duct tape.
S: You're not helping yourself right now.

He warned coldly.

I: I want answers, Simon.
S: Do me a favor dollface, keep your mouth shut or I'll stop this car and throw you in the damn trunk.
I: W-what?

I stammered, completely overwhelmed by his threat.

S: You seem surprised. I wouldn't dare question what I'm capable of, Isa. So shut up or you'll regret it.

God, he makes me so damn angry, I want nothing more than to punch him right in the nose. I get scared when he stares at me with his dark brown eyes.

He doesn't make a move, just stops to question my obedience, I hate how he can manipulate my emotions, I decide to sit back and avoid his eye contact, I turn my head and focus on the road.

When we arrive at the airport, Simon looks for a man in a black shirt and black pants; like everyone else in Dad's organization.

S: 1 4 5 11 9 12.

Simon muttered to the stranger in front of us. The code was secret and rarely used, only on occasions like this.

?: Riley.

The man nodded without even looking at me before leading us to another gate. They didn't even check my bags or clothes, meaning my father slipped through every government's rules.

The gate was isolated as we walked through, leading us to a private jet. Of course, my dad went for the splurge as usual, though it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I was actually raised to appreciate these kinds of things, no matter what people may think.

I sit down in a cozy armchair and hug my legs with my arms. I watch as Simon sits down, only to get up seconds later and head to the bathroom. Moments later, he comes out, revealing the band of his black boxers as he buttons his pants. I look away feverishly, not wanting to seem like a creep.

He rubs his chin in stress as he sits back down in his seat and pulls a laptop out of a bag the man gave him.

~~~~
I: You should sleep, you know.

To my surprise, he looked up from his area attentively and looked me in the eyes.

S: I have work to do, you're sleeping.
I: I was sleeping. I think you should rest before you do anything because you can't concentrate properly.

Simon didn't seem to hesitate; he certainly wasn't happy about it, but he was going to do it because exhaustion was winning the game now. He stares at me with slightly narrowed eyes.

S: Don't touch anything.
I: I won't.

That's all I said.

~ ~ ~ ~
Three hours later, I was staring at the ceiling with a blanket wrapped around my body to give me warmth in that cool air inside, Simon had dozed off on the couch with his lips pressed tightly together and his arms crossed over his chest. The man even fell asleep angrily.