His new apartment is quiet and private in the penthouse of an impressively secure building, though it's not as lavish as many of the city's high rise buildings. It had become...strangely comforting to pull up those camera feeds and see Enzo closer to happiness than he's ever witnessed in all the years they've known each other. Whatever it is that he's getting from Rayne, it's something that Eskil recognizes he can never provide—and nor does he wish to. He isn't really certain when his interactions with Lorenzo had shifted from tense conversation to back-handed innuendos to...more, but it isn't love. It isn't soft. It isn't healthy. He doesn't think either of them would know what to do with a healthy relationship at the end of the day.
Still, simply letting Enzo go just isn't in his nature. He leaves well enough alone, working countless hours in the weeks that follow the massive fuck-up of a murder and a torched warehouse on his hands, but every evening—or morning, rather, considering his nocturnal schedule—he snoops his way into those cameras, for once doing so with clean precision that leaves no trace of his entry. Call it an olive branch, but he's letting Lorenzo be—for now.
Riiight up until the moment when he truly needs him.
That's how it works with them, though. Eskil breaks down firewalls and identifies threats, Enzo handles the problem. Only this time, his text goes unanswered, despite its impressively professional nature for Eskil. It pisses him off at first. The mobster is welcome to stick his cock wherever he likes, but if that girl is going to get in the way of business—
His room is empty. No Lorenzo, but more strangely, no Rayne. Frowning, Eskil flips through the camera feeds of room after room, his nostrils flaring when he reaches the mansion's surgery suite full of people. The floor is stained red, a flurry of activity moving around the prone and unmistakable body of Lorenzo Vincenza. Fuck. In the hours following whilst doctors save his life, Eskil gets to work, backtracking to figure out what the actual fuck had happened. The footage from the warehouse has a vein ticking in his forehead, his jaw clenched. He tracks down Rayne's movements next, surprised to find her depart the manor with Omar, but not return with him. It's obvious that she'd planned the way she shooed him away from her dressing room before darting out the back door of the shop, managing to hail a cab in under a minute and disappear before her unsuspecting bodyguard had any idea. What the fuck?
Eskil jumps to the worst of conclusions. Somehow, Rayne had set this up, crossing any and every line to obtain her freedom from the italian. The only reason he doesn't track her down and cross a few fucking lines of his own to exact revenge is because he loses her in the bustle of the city's cameras, and she was smart enough to turn off her phone.
Days later, he's in the middle of working at his desk when a ping alerts him that Rayne's phone has come online. It doesn't take him long to determine where she's going. He paces the floor of his apartment for so long that he's liable to rub a hole in the carpet, and finally with a low groan of defeat against his impulsivity, Eskil grabs his jacket and keys and heads out into the night. He didn't think Rayne would be stupid enough to try to go back and finish what she started, but sure as shit, that little red dot gets closer and closer to the mansion with each passing second.
It's not the first time Eskil has broken onto the premises. He'd taken his small, inconspicuous sedan rather than his bike, left it where he knows it can't be seen, and crept into the property. What he doesn't expect to see as he crouches in the bushes, though, is Luciano's ruddy, angry face in the doorway, his gun leveled at Rayne. The interaction is brutal, as most with the eldest Vincenza often are; even his own daughter isn't spared his brutality, sent to the floor by a heavy blow to her cheek. Even Eskil winces. One thing's for sure: Rayne doesn't look like a woman on a warpath.
She looks broken.
Mother fuck.
This is probably the worst impulsive decision he's made in the history of...well, fucking ever, but the second the idea flares to life in his head, he knows he isn't leaving without executing a plan. Thankfully, he doesn't actually have much to contend with. Only Omar is left in the doorway with a red-faced Rayne, but eventually, even he shoos her off far more gently than Enzo's father had done. Stumbling back down the driveway, he watches her go to wait for the cab Omar called for her; in the time where the front yard is quiet and no cars have arrived yet, Eskil makes his move.
He's silent as he prowls out of the shadows behind Rayne, stepping up behind her and immediately clapping his hand over her mouth, silencing her before she can even begin a scream. His other arm secures around her waist and arms, hauling her back against his chest as he drags her backwards into the underbrush. He's not really a malicious person, but he doesn't have another choice; it's not like he could have approached her and introduced himself and nicely asked her to come with him. He would've been pepper sprayed in the fucking face. Once he has her squarely out of sight, his arm shifts from her mouth to band around her throat, silencing her just as effectively as he cuts off her airflow. Once she's limp in his grasp, Eskil sighs softly and hauls her into his arms, making quick work of returning to his car, and then his apartment.
An hour later, Rayne begins to stir on the couch where he'd deposited her. Her clothing is rumpled but untouched, aside from her shoes that have been removed and set neatly on the floor beside her. He'd even been so chivalrous as to drop a blanket over her, and now he's seated on the loveseat that's kitty corner to the couch she's on, his feet propped up on the coffee table and a laptop settled on his outstretched legs. Every now and then, he glances at Rayne and internally kicks himself for this idiot plan, but Eskil just keeps working, the keys quietly tapping away as he waits for all hell to break loose.
RAYNE;
Her gaze locks on the door as it begins to close, Omar’s stare back at her almost seems as being empathic in the moment. She stands her ground and waits as the door fully shuts, her palm landing on the solid wood as she rests her forehead on the top of it. She wants to rack against the door again and be demanded to let in, but she knows she would be sealing herself in a deadly fate if she’d done so. If Enzo’s father was able to do that to his own daughter then she was nothing in comparison. She inhaled a deep breath while she came to the realization that her shackles were released from Enzo. Wasn’t that what she wanted this entire time?
No. No it wasn’t.
She cared for him more than she wanted to admit because she could see things beyond just his icy heart. He didn’t need to keep her around, but he chose to, and despite his harsher ways he always found redemption. Rayne still didn’t understand his methods and why he chose to do the things he did, but there were cracks in his armor that he politely allowed her to squeeze into. Slowly her palm falls from the door as she readies herself to turn away and head home. A really foreign thought to process, but she knew this would he her new reality. Before she could turn a cold hand slapped over her mouth which caused her to yell, though muffled. What the fuck?
She grabs at the wrists of her attacker, her nails gripping the skin there as she kicks her feet out from under her. It’s clear they are much bigger, and taller then she which makes her fight more desperately. Hands move from her mouth to her throat where she feels the cut off of air. Fear quickly settles in between the feeling of desperation and she knows this is it, she’s going to die without even knowing who was sent to do it.
Eyes flutter as she begins to lose consciousness, her legs falling limp before her entire body follows close behind. Her head rolls back against the chest of her attacker, and the bright clouded sky grows black.
—Time skip—
Despite the darkness she could feel her limbs again. Her toes curled in her shoes and her arms slowly trail over the side of the chair she’s slumped in. Her head is pounding and she groans with displeasure while her eyes flutter open slowly. The room is hazy, but she can see a figure sitting in the chair across from her, nestled into the corner of the room. When her vision finally does clear there is a man sitting in the chair, silver hair, and unknown to her. Rayne doesn’t have enough energy to shoot up and flee, her neck hurts and her body feels numb, but she’s not dead. Surprising.
“Why didn’t you just kill me,” she groans, but her question makes her think deeper. Being alive is actually scarier, especially because she has never seen this man in her life.
Her gaze locks on the door as it begins to close, Omar’s stare back at her almost seems as being empathic in the moment. She stands her ground and waits as the door fully shuts, her palm landing on the solid wood as she rests her forehead on the top of it. She wants to rack against the door again and be demanded to let in, but she knows she would be sealing herself in a deadly fate if she’d done so. If Enzo’s father was able to do that to his own daughter then she was nothing in comparison. She inhaled a deep breath while she came to the realization that her shackles were released from Enzo. Wasn’t that what she wanted this entire time?
No. No it wasn’t.
She cared for him more than she wanted to admit because she could see things beyond just his icy heart. He didn’t need to keep her around, but he chose to, and despite his harsher ways he always found redemption. Rayne still didn’t understand his methods and why he chose to do the things he did, but there were cracks in his armor that he politely allowed her to squeeze into. Slowly her palm falls from the door as she readies herself to turn away and head home. A really foreign thought to process, but she knew this would he her new reality. Before she could turn a cold hand slapped over her mouth which caused her to yell, though muffled. What the fuck?
She grabs at the wrists of her attacker, her nails gripping the skin there as she kicks her feet out from under her. It’s clear they are much bigger, and taller then she which makes her fight more desperately. Hands move from her mouth to her throat where she feels the cut off of air. Fear quickly settles in between the feeling of desperation and she knows this is it, she’s going to die without even knowing who was sent to do it.
Eyes flutter as she begins to lose consciousness, her legs falling limp before her entire body follows close behind. Her head rolls back against the chest of her attacker, and the bright clouded sky grows black.
—Time skip—
Despite the darkness she could feel her limbs again. Her toes curled in her shoes and her arms slowly trail over the side of the chair she’s slumped in. Her head is pounding and she groans with displeasure while her eyes flutter open slowly. The room is hazy, but she can see a figure sitting in the chair across from her, nestled into the corner of the room. When her vision finally does clear there is a man sitting in the chair, silver hair, and unknown to her. Rayne doesn’t have enough energy to shoot up and flee, her neck hurts and her body feels numb, but she’s not dead. Surprising.
“Why didn’t you just kill me,” she groans, but her question makes her think deeper. Being alive is actually scarier, especially because she has never seen this man in her life.
Well, against her, anyway.
Against his own mind is another story, but it's impossible to tell by his lax posture on the couch that a million things are racing with turbulent violence through his head. Eskil has always been good at hiding the demons that live in his mind, and this evening is no different as he lounges back into the couch, a pair of reading glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. The light from his computer's screen reflects off the lenses, showing a hazy, blurred mirror image of something moving—like he has a video playing.
"How's your head?" he asks without looking at her, his tone as casual as if he's asking about the weather. Eskil doesn't doubt that she has a killer headache after the way he'd deprived her of oxygen; if he were a nicer person, he might've regretted that, but he hadn't exactly had much time to prepare. Good thing he has a wicked talent for improvising, he supposes. She just doesn't know it yet.
RAYNE;
As she rests a palm on her head she tries to remember what happened before being knocked out cold. She remembered going to Enzo's estate and being denied entry by a very angry, and dangerous, father. She remembers the gun being drawn on Alessa before she was knocked to the floor, and Rayne being warned to stay away, shooed at the door by no one other than Omar. She wondered if he would even bother telling Enzo she showed up after hearing of the news in the first place. It's clear that she only knew so much about Enzo, and that his home was not one she would willingly bring herself to. It was also clear that she was growing so comfortable with Enzo that she began to forget the reality of why she ended up there to begin with. Being around him long enough did show what he was capable of, but she never knew to what extent, not until today at least. She remained silent past his response of murder being messy. At first, she assumed that maybe he nabbed her in means of finishing the job, but if not, then why would he take her? Her fingertips grazed over her forehead as she rubbed the skin there, a soft groan falling from her lips.
How's your head.
She releases a long sigh before looking over at him, but he isn't returning the gaze. In fact, he's speaking to her as if they were some kinds of comfortable friends, casually addressing her with no hint of concerns in his voice. "So then why am I here?" She responded back coolly. This wasn't her first rodeo, although when stolen by Enzo she genuinely did believe she was going to die. She props herself further up on the chair, pulling the blanket off of her and setting it aside. Last thing she wanted was for him to think she was comfortable.
As she rests a palm on her head she tries to remember what happened before being knocked out cold. She remembered going to Enzo's estate and being denied entry by a very angry, and dangerous, father. She remembers the gun being drawn on Alessa before she was knocked to the floor, and Rayne being warned to stay away, shooed at the door by no one other than Omar. She wondered if he would even bother telling Enzo she showed up after hearing of the news in the first place. It's clear that she only knew so much about Enzo, and that his home was not one she would willingly bring herself to. It was also clear that she was growing so comfortable with Enzo that she began to forget the reality of why she ended up there to begin with. Being around him long enough did show what he was capable of, but she never knew to what extent, not until today at least. She remained silent past his response of murder being messy. At first, she assumed that maybe he nabbed her in means of finishing the job, but if not, then why would he take her? Her fingertips grazed over her forehead as she rubbed the skin there, a soft groan falling from her lips.
How's your head.
She releases a long sigh before looking over at him, but he isn't returning the gaze. In fact, he's speaking to her as if they were some kinds of comfortable friends, casually addressing her with no hint of concerns in his voice. "So then why am I here?" She responded back coolly. This wasn't her first rodeo, although when stolen by Enzo she genuinely did believe she was going to die. She props herself further up on the chair, pulling the blanket off of her and setting it aside. Last thing she wanted was for him to think she was comfortable.
"So then why am I here?" Because I'm a god-damned idiot. His face is still neutral as he arches his brows to peer at her over the rim of his glasses, and then Eskil drops his feet to the floor, leaning forward to set the laptop on the coffee table in front of him before he braces his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped and resting between his legs. He's quiet for a long moment, looking Rayne up and down in a perfunctory manner as he considers what, exactly, he's willing to tell her. "So Luciano Vincenza can't finish what he started," he says at last, offering no further explanation than that.
Pressing his palms to his thighs, Eskil stands wordlessly, disappearing from the room on silent footsteps. He's only gone for a minute, returning with a water bottle in one hand and a bottle of Tylenol in the other, setting both on the table in front of Rayne. Dropping back into his prior place on the adjacent couch, Eskil uses a finger to pivot the laptop screen in her direction, revealing the running live feed of Enzo, though he hardly looks like himself. The mafioso is pale and still with tubes and wires everywhere to keep him both alive and sedated, but at least he's still breathing. His eyes are on Rayne when he reveals the screen to her, avidly curious to see how she'll respond to the revelation that Enzo is still alive, and that he's being watched.
Rayne;
Her gaze catches his as he wordlessly eyes her up and down and she can only imagine what he’s thinking. Her brows knit together and her cheeks flush pink with embarrassment and slight anger because how the fuck did she end up here…again. Well, not exactly here, but in the same scenario she found herself in when Enzo picked her up drunk from the bar. When she cut her foot on glass and passed out from the sight of her own blood. This time though she’d been completely coherent and even still, she was taken again. Man she really needed to learn some self defense.
Finally he spoke his reasoning for why she ended up with him, but it wasn’t one he expected. He knew the family, the father, and what they were capable of it seemed. That still didn’t answer why though. Why did he have to play hero? ”What is in it for you?” he could have let her be and the outcome would have been whatever it was. Enzo didn’t know what was going on or that she was even coming to see him, so this man, this stranger, could not have possibly sent to protect her from anyone or anything.
Unless he worked for Enzo as some kind of personal investigator? She really wouldn’t put it past him to be honest.
It wasn’t until he stood and left that she leaned back into the chair and pulled her hair back into a bun, her mind churning ideas of how the fuck she was gunna get out of this mess. She scanned the rooms and took notes of the windows and doors, same as she’d done with Enzo’s room except this one didn’t seem as high security.
When he returned he placed the water and Tylenol on the table before her, but respectfully she declined because, well, she didn’t fucking trust him.
For good reason too it would seem. He grabbed his laptop and flicked it open before turning it in her direction, she watched him every step of the way. When he turned it and her eyes didn’t finally find the screen she was taken aback by why she saw. Enzo lay there hooked up to machines, but he wasn’t in a hospital, he was in his own house. ”What the fuck?” she whispered inwardly to herself as she took a closer look, the scene actually made her heart ache to see him in such a state. There was something else though that prodded at her mind. This man had access to his cameras and she wasn’t sure if Enzo was aware, but she knew Enzo had cameras almost everywhere in his estate and if this stranger had access to this one then…
”So you know then,” she wasn’t a fucking idiot and her gaze coldly shot back at him. ”You know how I became acquainted with them in the first place? Kind of started like this, actually.” she could only make her mind numb about all the other things he saw. She didn’t even want to imagine.
Her gaze catches his as he wordlessly eyes her up and down and she can only imagine what he’s thinking. Her brows knit together and her cheeks flush pink with embarrassment and slight anger because how the fuck did she end up here…again. Well, not exactly here, but in the same scenario she found herself in when Enzo picked her up drunk from the bar. When she cut her foot on glass and passed out from the sight of her own blood. This time though she’d been completely coherent and even still, she was taken again. Man she really needed to learn some self defense.
Finally he spoke his reasoning for why she ended up with him, but it wasn’t one he expected. He knew the family, the father, and what they were capable of it seemed. That still didn’t answer why though. Why did he have to play hero? ”What is in it for you?” he could have let her be and the outcome would have been whatever it was. Enzo didn’t know what was going on or that she was even coming to see him, so this man, this stranger, could not have possibly sent to protect her from anyone or anything.
Unless he worked for Enzo as some kind of personal investigator? She really wouldn’t put it past him to be honest.
It wasn’t until he stood and left that she leaned back into the chair and pulled her hair back into a bun, her mind churning ideas of how the fuck she was gunna get out of this mess. She scanned the rooms and took notes of the windows and doors, same as she’d done with Enzo’s room except this one didn’t seem as high security.
When he returned he placed the water and Tylenol on the table before her, but respectfully she declined because, well, she didn’t fucking trust him.
For good reason too it would seem. He grabbed his laptop and flicked it open before turning it in her direction, she watched him every step of the way. When he turned it and her eyes didn’t finally find the screen she was taken aback by why she saw. Enzo lay there hooked up to machines, but he wasn’t in a hospital, he was in his own house. ”What the fuck?” she whispered inwardly to herself as she took a closer look, the scene actually made her heart ache to see him in such a state. There was something else though that prodded at her mind. This man had access to his cameras and she wasn’t sure if Enzo was aware, but she knew Enzo had cameras almost everywhere in his estate and if this stranger had access to this one then…
”So you know then,” she wasn’t a fucking idiot and her gaze coldly shot back at him. ”You know how I became acquainted with them in the first place? Kind of started like this, actually.” she could only make her mind numb about all the other things he saw. She didn’t even want to imagine.
Icy blue eyes watch on with avid curiosity as Rayne takes in the image on the laptop screen. She is, unsurprisingly, shocked; but then she leans in closer, her expression falling just enough that he can see the pain in it—not for herself, but for Enzo. Then she's stiffening again, her face icing over as her eyes snap back up to meet his gaze in an accusatory fashion. She's smart, quick to make the leap that if Eskil has this footage, then he almost certainly has more.
He leans back, propping his legs up on the coffee table—crossed at the ankles—and folds his arms across his chest, leaving the laptop in Rayne's possession. She can keep it for all he cares. Eskil nods, fighting the urge to smirk knowingly at damn near everything that's happened between Rayne and Enzo. "Yeah, kind of," he hedges casually, looking her up and down in a more pointed manner than he had before, though it still isn't leering. It's almost...playful, but it isn't friendly. "Tell you what, though, I'll let you sit in your own chair at the dinner table," he quips, one corner of his mouth finally curling into a small smirk. He can't help poking her, needling Rayne with the reality of everything he knows.
"That's your room," Eskil informs her with an incline of his head in the direction of the open doorway halfway down the hall behind her. There's an en suite in there, and Eskil had even been nice enough to leave a few t-shirts and sweats in the dresser drawers; they'll be big on her, but at least it's something. He doesn't doubt that Rayne is going to lock herself in that room for as long as she can until hunger finally coaxes her out, but that's just fine with him. "Door locks if it makes you feel better." He already knows that it won't. They both know there isn't much point to a lock in his own home.
RAYNE;
The longer she remains in his presence, the more impatient she grows, and the way he looks at her is enough to make the blood bubble in her veins. He isn’t being condescending, but he’s toying with her, and this becomes abundantly clear when he mentions she would have her own seat at the dinner table. Her cheeks flush red with embarrassment, knowing that he saw her at her lowest point—treated and fed like a dog, a harsh reminder of when she first met Enzo. She swallows the words back, wanting to lash out at him, but honestly, her feelings aren’t his fault. She doesn't know the connection between Enzo and this man, but there must be some kind of significance that led him to whisk her away from the danger of his family.
Kneeling at Enzo's feet had been the very beginning of their twisted story. This stranger had been watching long after that, she was certain of it. She gritted her teeth at the thought that he may have seen the more intimate parts of their exchanges.
Rayne steadied her breath as she watched him point toward the door, her chin tilting slightly in its direction. However, she wasn't amused by his next comment. She didn’t want to stay. Just like when she was with Enzo, she scanned the windows, assessing how secure his home really was. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but she did observe that they were high above normal floor level. Her fingers wrapped around the laptop, bringing it to her lap and closing it softly. It was only then that she realized she was without her phone—smart of him to take it. He knew the first person she’d contact would be Enzo.
She circled back to her question, the one he’d found suitable not to answer.
"Aren’t you a little too old to be that obsessed with someone half your age?"
Rayne was well aware that he wouldn't lay a finger on her. It didn’t take long to realize he, too, was somewhat afraid of Enzo or his family. She also concluded that this situation would likely go one of two ways: either he would be praised for protecting her, or slain for stealing her. She could probably help along one of those processes.
The longer she remains in his presence, the more impatient she grows, and the way he looks at her is enough to make the blood bubble in her veins. He isn’t being condescending, but he’s toying with her, and this becomes abundantly clear when he mentions she would have her own seat at the dinner table. Her cheeks flush red with embarrassment, knowing that he saw her at her lowest point—treated and fed like a dog, a harsh reminder of when she first met Enzo. She swallows the words back, wanting to lash out at him, but honestly, her feelings aren’t his fault. She doesn't know the connection between Enzo and this man, but there must be some kind of significance that led him to whisk her away from the danger of his family.
Kneeling at Enzo's feet had been the very beginning of their twisted story. This stranger had been watching long after that, she was certain of it. She gritted her teeth at the thought that he may have seen the more intimate parts of their exchanges.
Rayne steadied her breath as she watched him point toward the door, her chin tilting slightly in its direction. However, she wasn't amused by his next comment. She didn’t want to stay. Just like when she was with Enzo, she scanned the windows, assessing how secure his home really was. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but she did observe that they were high above normal floor level. Her fingers wrapped around the laptop, bringing it to her lap and closing it softly. It was only then that she realized she was without her phone—smart of him to take it. He knew the first person she’d contact would be Enzo.
She circled back to her question, the one he’d found suitable not to answer.
"Aren’t you a little too old to be that obsessed with someone half your age?"
Rayne was well aware that he wouldn't lay a finger on her. It didn’t take long to realize he, too, was somewhat afraid of Enzo or his family. She also concluded that this situation would likely go one of two ways: either he would be praised for protecting her, or slain for stealing her. She could probably help along one of those processes.
His assessing stare follows hers as it trails around the room, lingering on the windows and the apartment door. "I wouldn't if I were you," he tells her with a slight quirk of one corner of his mouth. "That's a six story drop, sweetheart." As for the door...that isn't opening without a code and his fingerprint, but he'll let her figure that out on her own when she inevitably tries to make a break for it. His security may be less ostentatious than Lorenzo's, less noticeable, but that's no mistake on either party's part; Enzo needs to intimidate, and Eskil practices discretion.
"Aren't you a little too old to be that obsessed with someone half your age?" Eskil's smile is slow, almost conspiring. He's being a downright gentleman, letting her get away with her jabs and holding back his own razor-sharp tongue. She has no idea how much he likes to play those games. Just—not with her. "You're welcome," he says in lieu of answering her, nodding at the laptop she's clinging to like it's a lifeline. She's going to be wildly disappointed when she figures out she can't do anything with it other than watch the camera feed of Enzo's room.
Without another word, Eskil rises to his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets, rounding the couch and strolling down the hallway. He leaves Rayne to her own devices as he disappears into his own room for the night—wisely locking the door, because he doesn't trust her to pick flight over fight—but that certainly doesn't stop him from pulling up another camera feed on his phone, avidly curious to see what she does with her illusion of freedom in his home.