Book 2, Chapter 9: Wishful Thinking

**Madison**

I was still stunned. I was gawking at the murky blue waters in front of me. A school of fish passed by the windows. Then, a small ‘click’ sound brought me out of my catatonic state.

“This picture is perfect! I am going to frame this,” Damien teased, putting his phone away in his suit pocket. “Your face was priceless! You weren’t expecting this.” My response was a murderous glare.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” He fussed. “You know that your glares don’t work on me, and besides, you and I both know that you can’t shoot lasers out of your eyes, so stop wrinkling that pretty face of yours.”

I shook my head at him and looked back out the window. Based on the slow ombre gradient, I'd say that a storm was coming or nighttime was nearing.

“I have to hand it to you, Damien,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “when you put your mind to it, nothing stops you. I didn’t believe you all those years ago when you would comment on those James Bond movies and how you’d build your fortress underwater as no one would suspect it. I can’t believe you actually did it. You built a fucking house underwater.”

“Actually, I built most of my empire underwater,” Damien corrected me. About two miles that way, I have three more state-of-the-art facilities. And like I said before, you can’t escape even if you tried – we are over fifty miles from the nearest land mass… By the way, we are using a version of your father Ben’s surveillance software. Thanks to his squad for testing our viruses, we now have an unbeatable system.” He had a sinister smile on his face.

“You son of a bitch! That’s been you this whole time? Papa has been working tirelessly for the last three years trying to find the asshole penetrating his defense system.” I said, fuming.

His smile grew, and my need to punch him festered deeply. I balled my hands into fists and felt my nails about to puncture the skin.

“Well, this was a nice chat. We will have to have dinner later; it's not like you have much choice. I have some things to do. Feel free to explore the house. You will be here for a while. Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll take you up top later.” He booped my nose and waltzed out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door.

“Cock sucker,” I muttered, only to hear him yell down the hall, “That’s your job, Zemra!” I just put my head in my hands and took a moment to settle down. I settled momentarily, looking out the window, watching the near desolate murky waters.

“*I wanna be where the people are*…” I started to sing softly, smiling to myself. “*I want to see, I want to see my freedom! Walking around on that… what’s that word again? Oh, yeah! Solid ground!... Up where you breathe, up where you're free, up where you can see the sun, wandering around, without some guards… anywhere but here!...Out of this cage…Wish I could escape… far from this place…*” I held the last note for a few beats and let the silence linger in the ether. And then, I lost it. I started howling. I was laughing too hard for the circumstances. But I guess I was my mother’s daughter after all. I am finding humor in the most inappropriate times.

I picked myself up and walked to the open door. If I was going to ‘be here for a while,’ I might as well get the lay of the land. For the next hour, I walked around the place.
To say this home was impressive would be the understatement of the century, which is saying something. Honestly, this is a work of art. I have always been a fan of architecture, but I have to admit that this was borderline innovative genius. But if Damien designed it, I may have to take my admiration to the grave.

From what I could explore, it was two stories. When I exited my room, I was in a slightly circular hallway. It had plaster walls painted a light cream color and hardwood flooring. There were only four doors in the hallway, all painted a different color. Sadly, the three other doors were locked. My door was painted purple, which is one of my favorite colors. The door to my right was painted dark red, while the door to my left was painted dark blue. The final door next to the blue door was like a forest green.

The doors were spaced evenly, and I am positive they held rooms similar to mine. Between the purple and blue door was a large open entryway. Stepping through the threshold, I saw a sleek, modern layout. It was an open floor plan with a large living room in the middle—all-black furnishings with white accents and carpet. A crystal chandelier sparkled brightly in the center. Past the sofas was a massive dining room with a table set for twenty. The table was glass, and black full-back leather chairs were spread out to create a picturesque scene. A full black and white kitchen with brand-new stainless steel appliances was to the left. The large island in the middle with the hibachi grill had me giddier than a schoolgirl talking to her secret crush. There was a glass elevator to the far right wall and a black steel spiral staircase. The outer walls were a continuous bubbled floor-to-ceiling window with the vast ocean as the scenery. The entire floor was in a circular pattern.

I counted nine guards around the place and met two ladies working quietly in the kitchen. Marissa was the older lady who reminded me of Mrs. Hughes from Downton Abbey. She was short, chubby, and was a stereotypical Italian grandmother. After speaking with her for a few minutes, I knew I would love her. She was a riot.

Her daughter, Maria, was maybe in her mid-thirties. She was strikingly beautiful, no doubt, but the sour face and immediately entitled attitude told me told me she was going to be a problem. Also, the really short “maid” uniform and her super-tight push-up bra were hard to miss. I just rolled my eyes—just another hussy wanting to spread her legs in hopes of cornering a wealthy man. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did sleep with Damien and now thinks she is to be the lady of the house.

My suspicions were confirmed when she cornered me in the kitchen and said, “You are not welcome here. Stay away from my man, you little bitch.” I just rolled my eyes and pushed her away before walking away. Does it look like I want to be here? Did I ask to be kidnapped, drugged, and brought to the middle of the fucking ocean? No. Am I going to tell her that? No. She is already delusional since Damien would have already claimed her if he wanted to be serious with her. I have enough Playboy brothers to know that to them, a wet hole is just that, a way to scratch an itch.

The elevator needed a code and handprint scan. The stairs went up and down. I tried going up, but there was a steel door that looked like a vault. It had technology similar to my Papa’s invention but with some exciting differences. It would take a skilled hacker an hour to figure out how to bypass the system.

The level below the main floor was open. It was also in a circular pattern with windows all around. It was divided into four sections, each with walls and an open threshold. There was a full gym with a half basketball court and even a sauna. There was a miniature library with copies of all my favorite books and many selections I had yet to read. The sofas in this room looked so comfortable and fluffy. I found another sitting room with a fully stocked bar and a TV projection screen that lowered the ceiling to cover the entire window wall. It looked like a classic man cave. My brothers would love something like this. There was another impenetrable vault-like door between the gym and man cave rooms. My favorite room, though, was the arcade room. It was a nerd's dream. There was an entire gaming system for four people next to shelves full of board games. There was even a box for at-home laser tag. There was a billiard table, darts on the wall, a ski-ball machine, a bowling lane, and a plethora of classic arcade stations like Pac-Man, TRON, Galaga, Centipede, and Frogger. It was like Damien had a personal Dave & Busters in his house.

There was another level below this, but it, too, had another vault door that I could not access.

I walked back upstairs and headed towards the room I presume was now ‘my’ room. I glanced to my right and noticed the blue door was slightly ajar. Being the nosy creature I am, I tiptoed to it and peeked inside. The door swung open a tad more as I pushed my way in.

The layout was similar to mine, with the back wall being a full ocean view. The rest of the room was painted a dark grey. The Alaskan king-size bed was in the center on a platform. There was a black leather sofa and minimal furniture in the room.

A very hot, very wet Damien had his sculpted back towards the door. A towel wrapped around his waist, and his toned body glistened in the light as he used a second towel to dry himself. I had this urge to run my tongue all over his muscles. That is until I saw all of the tattoos that covered his back. An enlarged picture of a black spade with a sword pierced through it. A tutor-style crown hung off the handle of the blade.

I gasped loudly, and he turned around and put the pieces together. He only smirked and continued to dry his hair. “Like what you see, Zemra ime?”

“Holy shiitake mushrooms, you are the fucking Black Spade?” I then lost all my rational thinking, and charged him like a bull seeing red.