Shall Under Your Charm

Chapter 72

"That guy is a mafia! He kidnapped me and held me captive for months on an island! He won't release me even though I've been begging him many times!". Farah shouted in frustration.

Maybe Farah should keep her breath. The truth is sometimes no more convincing than a lie, especially if the truth it tells sounds absurd.

Desperate and not the least bit surprised, Farah sees Ryan so convincingly showing a loving and protective attitude.

"Oh, bullshit," Ryan told Farah with a laugh. "Can you make up a story like that? All right, then. Like you said, I'm a mobster, and I've kidnapped you."

"But it is true! He's a mobster and he kidnapped me! He admitted it!"

It's no use. Not working at all. The wife of the hotel owner began to look confused, the hotel officials giggled, and the two women carrying poodles complained about the lack of strict education for young women in this day and age. The hotel owner patted Ryan on the back with a sympathetic expression. The mockery of Farah still continued, and was left alone by Ryan until the man felt that it was enough to reply to Farah's actions.

About a kilometer from the hotel, Ryan stops the car next to a stone bridge, Farah shifts away from Ryan, but has no remaining force to fight as Ryan pulls out the rope and ties his wrist.

"I was forced to do this" Ryan coldly insisted. "You asked for it yourself."

Night came, black skies covered the horizon. They stopped a lot and Ryan had twice brought food into the car, and Farah had to eat it with her hands tied. Farah had to ask Ryan to stop again with a crumbling self-esteem. This time the bathroom she used was a hidden spot in the underground station area and Farah had to do it with great difficulty as Ryan refused to untie her hand. If Ryan's sharp tanned eyes see the rest of the tears on Farah's cheeks, which are hard to wipe with his tied hands when he gets back in the car. Ryan gave no sign. Inwardly, Farah withdraws her notion of Ryan still having a foundation of politeness, Farah feels so angry that she almost feels relieved to be able to convince herself that she hates Ryan.

Farah's asleep, or it looks like it. A gray fog closed his gaze; rumbling sounds covered other sounds; his mind was still in dreamland. Suddenly, his consciousness returned with a powerful jolt. Part of his brain caught the larger streets, the changes in sound and smell, and the brightly lit windows visible to his eyes. Farah woke up completely in the stopped car. His back was as stiff as an iron pipe, his eyes were hot from lack of rest, and his throat was dry. Ryan then helped her up, as if surrounded by swirling stars. While closing his eyes quickly as he looked at the bright light and felt the fresher air, Ryan dragged him out. Farah shook Ryan's hand and straightened her own body.

"No need" said Farah. "I can walk alone."

"Clear," replied Ryan indifferently and did not take his hand off Farah's elbow. Farah's eyes focused on Ryan's cold figure and then over his shoulders to see the crowded streets traversed by passing vehicles.

Huge buildings lined the side of a large road, its huge pillars and Venetian-style windows were visible behind the bushes.

"Where am I?" whispered Farah.

"In Manhattan. Grace Place," explains Ryan, took Farah's bag with one hand and carried Farah through the iron gate to the front of the mansion in the style of the Palladian mansion.

Perplexed by exhaustion, Farah said, "This is not a prison!"

"I think it depends on the way each person thinks" Ryan said, but then, seeing Farah too tired to comment, Ryan added, " In general, this place cannot be said to be a prison. You're scared shitless, aren't you?".

Farah let her anger explode and triggered, "Will it make you happy?"

"Maybe. Everyone likes to be taken seriously. That's why I added"

"People have to bear their own fruit" Farah said. Tears trickled down Farah's nose and she immediately wiped it off with one of her shoulders removed.

Farah's back, which had been able to stand in front of Ryan all day, began to slump. "I'm too tired to argue with you. Show me any bed, and I'll go straight to sleep on it without much complaining."

Ryan laughs. For weeks, it was Farah's first time hearing Ryan laugh so loosely, and Farah had forgotten how attractive and gentle Ryan's face was. The corner of Ryan's eyes looked relaxed with a smile line, brown hair blown by the cool night breeze.

"All you'll get in time" Ryan said. "There's someone I need to see first."

Farah's bound hand was raised, with her palm facing upwards, and as she was being pulled towards the door, she asked puzzledly, "You know someone who lives here?"

"Yes. Come, Farah. Don't ask too many questions."

Fatigue and horror made Farah's throat choked. He watched Ryan raise his hand in front of the mahogany door and pull the brass door knocker.

The door was immediately opened by a man wearing a special uniform, which could be certain to be a butler. What's the cold greeting 'There's something I can help you with?' it turned into shock, as the man stepped back, looked at Ryan and his eyebrows shot up high.

"Young master!" exclaim that man.

"Good night, Harris," Ryan greeted in a calm voice as he pulled Farah into the large front hall. Ryan turned his head towards the graceful marble staircase. "Is Zayn home?"

The butler seemed to have recovered from his shock. "There, Sir. He had just returned home and was changing clothes in the room." While walking to the doorway in a polite manner, the butler continued, "Allow me to offer the library to you, Young master. Inside there, the fireplace is already lit, and I think you will definitely feel comfortable there. And if I may be honest, Sir, I would like to say how happy I am to see that you have returned safely and will soon be reunited with your family and acquaintances. It's a happy moment. Mr. Zayn would like to be immediately informed of your arrival without delay."

"Thank you." Using his hand, which was gripping Farah's arm, Ryan pulled Farah towards the library door.

Perhaps Farah would not be able to control her emotions, as well as she would have hoped if forced, but the bitter experience she has experienced lately has trained her to keep thinking clearly.

Farah was forcefully pulled into the library very neat and orderly, her eyes fixated on staring at the Chinese tapestry and the old books that were on the library table. Ryan stood at the door, kindly asking for the butler's gout and refusing an offer to give them their coats. Farah was wondering if that meant they would not be in this place for too long, when the greeting of the young master slowly recalled again by her. In a state of shock, Ryan visits the home of an American conglomerate in the middle of the night and is ashamed of being harshly treated by Ryan in front of a butler. Young master... Young Master.., Farah repeats the butler's grill for Ryan.

Who exactly is Ryan?

The sound of the door being closed slowly made Farah's fear and nervousness increase, until the feathers goosebumps. Farah turned to find Ryan standing alone in the doorway. Ryan stared at her sharply, Ryan's expression on the face looking relaxed amidst the light of the fireplace, prompting Farah to voice her thoughts. Farah heard her own whisper.

"Hirundo poeciloma. You know a lot about swiftlets. And, the seagulls I saw at the Dark Devil headquarters. You trained him to come to you. Because you're the son of a naturalist, aren't you? And an artist. No one can understand my image as clearly as you. And-that night on the beach, I heard you....."

Ryan's facial expression didn't look interested, as if Farah was merely revealing a small riddle like: She could fill the house; she could fill the hole; but she couldn't fill the basin. Did she? Smoke.

Casually, Ryan's hands began to open one by one the coat the man was wearing. In the middle of the sea, in the world of Keith Smith, Ryan had great power. Farah thought the only chance she could have was Ryan's waning power without Keith's support, but now she realizes with frustration that power is getting bigger, even more than he ever imagined. Looking into Ryan's tanned eyes, Farah said, "Now I understand. You are Ryan Crandall. Aye right?".

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