Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 110: Chapter 110

Elena’s POV:
I stood across the street, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows from the surrounding buildings, my gaze fixed on the slightly rundown apartment complex before me. This was the address Joane had given me.
Number 4B. Taking a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous flutter in my stomach, I crossed the busy road.
This was it. My first and, given the rapidly approaching deadline, hopefully my only in-person viewing of a potential shared living space in Maxcester City.
Joane had agreed to me visiting today, a last-minute arrangement after my impulsive decision to leave Velhaven earlier on a whim last night.
I reached the building, its brick façade showing signs of age and neglect, and consulted the numbers beside the doorbells. 4B. On the second floor. I climbed the worn concrete steps, the air in the stairwell thick with the faint, lingering smell of stale cigarette smoke and something vaguely floral, perhaps an air freshener trying to mask the underlying odors.
Reaching the second floor, I found the apartment door and raised my hand to ring the bell. I pressed the small button once, then again, waiting what felt like an eternity before pressing it a third time, a sliver of doubt beginning to creep into my mind. Had I gotten the address wrong? Was she even expecting me?
Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled Joane. But it wasn’t just her appearance that made my eyes widen. The moment the door was ajar, a wave of cloying, unmistakable scent hit me – the foul, musky odor of semen. My eyes flicked from the side of her sleep-tousled head to the interior of the living room, the scene that lay beyond confirming my immediate, unpleasant suspicions.
The room was a chaotic mess, clothes strewn across the floor, empty food containers scattered on every surface, and the remnants of what looked suspiciously like a party from the night before. And there, sprawled out on the worn floral couch, lay a man, completely oblivious to my presence, his chest bare, a crumpled blanket barely covering his lower half. Joane herself was barely more presentable, her eyes widening in surprise as she looked me up and down, her gaze lingering a moment too long, her own attire consisting of nothing more than a flimsy, lace-trimmed lingerie set.
Her eyes widened further as she finally seemed to register my presence, her gaze flicking down to my own rather conservative outfit – a plain polo shirt, a comfortable blazer, and well-worn jeans. Then, her eyes darted towards a wall clock hanging crookedly above the doorway. “Oh. Elena? I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I—I seemed to have overslept.” She quickly turned around and walked back into the cluttered apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar. I waited awkwardly in the hallway, clutching my phone with her address displayed on the screen, a growing sense of unease settling in my stomach.
So this wasn’t the wrong apartment.
I sighed inwardly, my gaze drifting over the state of the walls visible from where I stood. They were undeniably dirty, stained with what looked like years of neglect. Grime clung to the corners, and in one particularly disturbing spot, a fuzzy green substance seemed to be actively growing.
Taking a deep, slightly hesitant breath, I stepped inside as Joane reappeared, having seemingly made a minimal effort to cover herself by hastily pulling on a thin, silk robe that did little to conceal her previous attire. With a muttered “Get up! Leave,” she shoved the still-sleeping man on the couch, sending him tumbling onto the floor with a groan. Then, turning back to me, she offered a strained, insincere smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Welcome. Sorry about the… state of things.”
Though her ‘welcome’ was more of a grimace, she continued, gesturing vaguely around the messy living room. “If you’d given me more of a heads-up about the exact time you’d be arriving, I’d have cleared the space. It’s not usually like this, honestly. Only once a week or so. You know? Single life gets a little out of track sometimes…” She said, looking me up and down again with a rather too interested gaze that made me instinctively step back.
“I’m sorry if I’m being a little too invasive,” she continued, narrowing her eyes slightly as she walked closer, her hands resting on her hips, the silk robe parting slightly to reveal the lace beneath. “But… are you maybe Elena Vetrov? As in, Nikolai Vetrov’s wife? The resemblance is uncanny.”
I pursed my lips, a wave of discomfort washing over me as she closed the remaining distance between us. The fact that she recognized me, despite the low-profile I had tried to maintain since…made me even more wary.
She was practically naked under that flimsy robe. God. This was beyond awkward; it was bordering on surreal.
Yep. Absolutely no. This wasn’t going to work. Not even remotely.
I took a small, involuntary step away from her, putting a bit more space between us, and said, my voice tight with forced politeness, “Umm, so. Joane. This has been… interesting. However,” I hesitated, searching for the right words to politely extricate myself from this bizarre situation, “I don’t think this will work out for me. Your… lifestyle doesn’t seem to quite match with mine. I’m sorry,” I finished, feeling incredibly awkward and a little bit disgusted. She frowned, her initial friendly façade crumbling, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. “What is that supposed to mean?” she questioned, her tone now laced with suspicion.
I swallowed, the air in the apartment suddenly feeling thick and heavy. “Nothing. I really don’t mean anything negative by it. It’s your home, you can obviously do whatever you please. I’m just… not really the type to party… like this. If it happens every week, then it would probably be inconvenient for both of us.” I forced a tight, insincere smile and started backing towards the front door, eager to escape this uncomfortable encounter.
“Oh…alright then,” she said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. Her earlier interest had clearly vanished, replaced by a curt indifference. Without another word, she turned and shut the door right in my face.
I sighed, turning around and making my way back down the dirty stairs. It was kind of my own fault, you know? I had just blurted out “tomorrow” in front of Mom, my eagerness to escape Velhaven overriding any sensible planning. I should have waited, contacted a couple more people, and arranged a few more viewings before making the trek out here. But the tension at home had been so thick, the unspoken accusations so heavy, that any alternative, no matter how questionable, had seemed preferable to staying in my own house.
Did that even make sense? I shook my head, a wry smile twisting my lips. My life felt like a badly written sitcom sometimes.
It was like in recent days, my own home had transformed into a place where I didn’t want to be anymore. The familiar comfort had been replaced by a suffocating weight. This had never happened to me before, this feeling of being completely out of sync with my own surroundings, and yet here we were. With me standing in the dingy hallway of a stranger’s apartment building, staring off into nothingness.
I turned to look at the slightly dented sports bike I’d borrowed from Rachel. If I didn’t manage to find a suitable place to live in Maxcester City today, the $30 I’d spent renting this slightly unreliable mode of transport would feel like money completely down the drain.
I sighed again, the weight of my rapidly dwindling options pressing down on me.
My stomach suddenly let out a loud, insistent grumble, a reminder that I had skipped a proper meal in my haste to get out of the house. I turned to look around.
I’d left Velhaven with just a hastily made banana milkshake and an apple clutched in my hand, and hadn’t taken anything else to eat for the next three hours. That was irresponsible of me, especially now.
I should probably go and find something to eat. I sighed, shoving the keys to Rachel’s bike into my pocket, making sure the kickstand was properly engaged, and jogged over to what looked like the least expensive cafeteria in the immediate area, a brightly lit, slightly chaotic-looking place with a handwritten menu board displayed outside.
As soon as I stepped inside, the strong, unmistakable smell of fried chicken and greasy burgers hit me, and my stomach let out another, even louder rumble. Damn it. The aroma, usually so appealing, now just amplified my hunger.
A server, a young man with a friendly smile, looked over at me and gestured towards an empty two-seater table by the window. Just as I was about to head over there, a familiar voice cut through the din of the lunchtime crowd.
“Elena?” Someone spoke, and my heart did a strange little jump in my chest.
I turned around slowly, my gaze sweeping over the various occupied tables until I landed on the source of the voice. And there, sitting at a table near the back, looking at me with a surprised expression and his hands raised in a hesitant greeting, was Malakai. He was sitting next to another man, someone I didn’t recognize, who was looking at me with an equally curious expression.
I inwardly cursed myself for selecting this particular place out of the myriad of other options in the area. I should have just gone to that other, more expensive-looking cafe I’d passed earlier. Hindsight, as always, was frustratingly clear.
Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t have any particular issue with Malakai. It wasn’t him personally. It was just that he probably knew too much about my complicated life, and I was desperately trying to avoid any further unwanted attention or spilled secrets.
And what on earth was he even doing here in Maxcester City?