"Danny, where are you?" Alexander's voice sounded distant from the hallway as he began to approach. "Ow, Danny, answer me! Danny!"

Daniel saved the presentation, minimized the window, and closed his eyes, tiredly pressing his eyeballs a few times to give them a break: streaks of exhaustion were forming under his eyelids, and there was a slight sting - he had plunged headlong into the project again and lost track of time. He patted the glossy surface of the Armani Casa malachite coffee table - it was even frightening to imagine the cost of this table, considering that the modest scented candles from the basic line of this brand were considered a luxury for the middle class in America.

Turning around in his chair, he grinned at the energetic footsteps and studied the interior - perhaps only the softly decorated home theater and his private office felt comfortable. The gloomy, noir furniture from Visionnaire, Boca de Lobo, and Armani Casa in the rest of the space was overwhelming, even after they added lighting and covered the floors with rich, bright carpets.

The previous apartment, though impersonal, had felt easier for him. Here, surrounded by the overwhelming luxury of Italian designers - furniture and accessories crafted from exotic bird feathers, natural fur, buffalo horns, semi-precious stones, rare animal skins, embroidered sea snakes and birds, Swarovski rhinestones, paintings by renowned artists - he felt like a bewildered tourist who had stumbled into the chambers of an Arab sheikh with a Gothic taste.

He felt a similar sense of being out of place surprisingly prevalent in the prison - the contrast in interiors was striking, but the underlying feeling remained unchanged.

He sighed upon hearing the approaching footsteps, resisting a childish urge to hide behind one of the chairs, and reluctantly called out.

"Coming!"

"There you are!" Alexander exclaimed, breathless, as he entered the home theater. "Why do you keep changing your location every time - as if playing hide-and-seek with me?"

"I'm tired of being cooped up at home," Daniel replied bluntly. "The confinement of four walls feels suffocating, so I'm switching up my workspace. Tomorrow, I'll head to a co-working space since you won't let me go to the office."

"An office is better than a co-working center," Alexander replied, pulling Daniel closer before realizing his slip. "Um... it's too early for you. Stick to playing hide-and-seek at home; I quite enjoy it."

"Why do you need such a spacious apartment when two people could not find each other in it?" Daniel, shifting away from the office conversation, obediently puckered his lips and sighed, rising onto his tiptoes. As Alexander kissed him, his right hand slipped between Daniel's legs, applying pressure to the sensitive spot between his scrotum and anus, initiating a gentle rub. Daniel's cock immediately responded, warming up and starting to stiffen, while he weakly pushed back.

"I haven't had dinner yet."

"Neither have I, but maybe we'll stick around here for a while," Alexander nibbled his chin sharply before moving down to his neck with the same intensity. "Mm?"

"We can't stay here for too long, and I'm starving," Daniel insisted, pushing more firmly. "I mean, really famished! Let's go."

"Let's go," Alexander gave his groin a final stroke, a firm squeeze that sent a powerful, tingling sensation through him without causing pain. Grinning at Daniel's ragged breath, he let go, playfully swatting his buttock.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Daniel frowned, rubbing the area where he'd been struck - it had been quite a solid slap. "That actually stung!"

"For skipping meals today. Gyuzel informed me," Alexander affectionately rubbed his sore buttock. "Don't sulk, I won't do it again."

"You owe me a massage," Daniel stooped to scratch his shin, but as Alexander lunged forward, he delivered a powerful smack to his rear end. Alexander yelped in surprise, grabbing his rear end and letting out a howl.

"Ouch! What was that for?!"

"For stalking," Daniel replied dryly, sensing Alexander's predatory movement towards him. He dashed off, almost skidding on the slippery floor - clearly, Zegna's house shoes were designed for strolling, not running. Alexander chased after him, attempting to catch him but narrowly missing several times. They raced down the stairs with the laughter of mischievous children and burst into the living room, startling Gyuzel, who clutched an empty plate to her chest. Alexander clawed the air where Daniel had been standing, then advanced, offering a courteous smile to her before dropping to his full height with a loud curse.

"You'll pay for this," he vowed, standing up and brushing himself off.

"I didn't do that," Daniel said, dismissing the accusation of the insidious leg sweep with a shrug. Seating himself at the table, he placed his napkin on his lap, adopting a prim pose, though a smile began to form on his lips.

"I love... when you're like this," Alexander remarked.

The smile vanished instantly with Alexander's last comment, clearly an attempt to salvage the situation. Both of them felt the awkwardness settle between them as Alexander took his seat at the table. Daniel served himself a salad of fresh vegetables and handed the bowl to Alexander. Then, he added a salad of pickled eel and seaweed, offering it to Alexander without making eye contact.

He began to chew, pondering how he had grown comfortable enough to laugh and joke with Alexander in less than a month. The added security from the recent events surely played a part, but it didn't entirely explain the rapid thawing of their relationship. It was likely the result of being confined at home with limited interaction. Unable to converse with the household staff, particularly Gyuzel, and with Tengiz out of reach, it seemed the Stockholm syndrome had intensified, cementing their connection. Hence, it was time to break free from the isolation.

"I want to go to the office," Daniel mentioned casually, digging into the shrimp and crab udon.

"Keep wanting," Alexander replied in the same discreet tone, pouring the wine. "In my opinion, and according to your doctors, it's still too early for you."

"Then I'll go to the co-working space," Daniel said, pushing his glass away. "I can't drink wine, remember?"

"I forgot, sorry," Alexander acknowledged, opting for a glass of mineral water instead. "You might have a meltdown in the coworking center."

"I won't," Daniel asserted, cutting him off as he reached for the fried meat pieces sizzling in the hot cast-iron pan, emitting a tantalizing aroma of spicy and sour soy sauce, sesame oil, and ginger - tonight's dinner was a Japanese dish with a slight adaptation to Russian tastes. "There are people out there, I need companionship. Otherwise, I'll go completely feral soon."

"It's not advisable for you to be in large gatherings yet," Alexander replied, picking at his salad with little appetite. "Oh, I recalled a poem on the topic."

Rapture is a bitter poison:

Do not live among the men,

Don't exchange amusements chosen

For the grace of drab days' reign.

All will pass, and icy death sleuth

Will squeeze tender heart at last,

Everything, you lived for since youth,

Will call dumb joke from the past.

He paused, observing Daniel's withdrawn behavior, then reluctantly straightened up.

"Okay, I'll consider it. Although you spoke mostly with Daria in the office, and if I remember correctly, you didn't seem particularly fond of her," he remarked.

Daniel brushed off the comment, swallowing the sarcastic retort about his reluctance to engage with others out of concern they might probe too much about his relationship with Alexander. With their relationship now officially open, there was no longer a fear of saying the wrong thing.

Daniel remained silent for the remainder of dinner, offering vague responses when Alexander attempted conversation. Something stirred in his mind, a nagging feeling reminiscent of something significant tucked away in the recesses of his memory. Daniel dropped his dessert fork as realization struck. Seven or eight months... That was around the time Sennoy, after being released, had planned to get him out of prison. Damn.

"What's wrong with you?" Alexander asked, concern evident in his tone. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"I'm fine," Daniel replied, pushing his plate aside, dabbing at his lips, and rising from the table. "We need to talk. You promised."

Alexander immediately understood the subject of the conversation and tensed as if preparing to leap. He hesitantly bit his lip and cleared his throat.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm certain I need to understand you better. The fact that I'm living with a murderer..." Daniel began.

"Quiet," Alexander interrupted, jumping to his feet, his face drained of color. "Let's go to the bedroom. We can talk there."

"Gyuzel has known you since childhood," Daniel continued mockingly. "She knows what you're capable of. She'll forgive you anything, because you've never hurt her, never..."

"Danny, please, don't do this," Alexander pleaded, embracing him tightly and burying his face in Daniel's neck. "Please, Danny, forgive me. Don't lash out every time, okay? You were in a good mood, what did I do wrong?"

"Let go, I need to use the bathroom," Daniel whispered, making no attempt to pull away. The embrace provided comfort, offering the warmth he craved, while Alexander's pleading whispers stirred something within him, erasing the annoying "I love...", softening his tense muscles and quelling his anger. Eventually, Daniel rested his head on Alexander's shoulder, exhaling deeply. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Let's go," Alexander reluctantly released him, accompanying him to the bathroom.

Daniel crouched down in the bathroom, sliding his hand under the console - the minimalist elegance of Devon&Devon bathroom furniture made it difficult to hide things. He peeled off a strip of duct tape and retrieved the tiny tape recorder he had managed to buy when he had slipped away from his constant escort at the mall. He switched on the tape, flushed the toilet, and listened to the recording with a satisfied nod.

Alexander had underestimated him, assuming that a digital signature that was valid only within the specific digital document workflow system and under specific conditions would suffice. A physical copy with a handwritten signature could be disputed, but an audio confession recorded on tape posed a greater challenge. Daniel returned to the bedroom outwardly composed, seated himself, gestured for Alexander to sit beside him, and nodded.

"Shoot."

"Please try to understand my motives, Danny," Alexander entwined his fingers, his expression earnest. "It all began several years ago. At that time, I initiated the overhaul of the procurement system within the Starkom structure, as the oil industry was inherently corrupt. The roots of corruption dated back to the nineties, a time when different norms prevailed, and the company failed to adapt to changing realities..."

"I'm aware of the background, can we focus on the main issue?" Daniel interjected.

"I was dealing with old-school people, the same ones who operated during the nineties," Alexander persisted. "Some were embedded within the organization, while others operated externally, but they functioned as a cohesive unit. Kozlov and Fedorov oversaw oil production assets across different regions; Kozlov handled Eastern Siberia, while Fedorov managed the North along with a few smaller assets in the South. Meshchersky was - and still is - involved in refining, overseeing six major refineries nationwide. Godunov was - and remains - in charge of retail operations, running a network of gas stations across the country. Denis Fedorov was their leader, and he made it clear that if I proceeded any further, he would find a way to silence me.

Initially, I didn't take his threats seriously - just some old fart dependent on my father trying to intimidate me. Who cared if he was willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. I didn't even inform my father about it; I was determined to prove that I could handle things on my own."

Alexander paused, running his hand over his face, before continuing with a sigh, "And... I was passionate about camping at the time, often venturing into the mountains for days. I openly shared my plans on social media, despite Goshka warning me against it. That's where they caught me. The night before my trip, I was abducted from my own apartment after being subdued with a tranquilizer shot - I was careless, living without security in a trendy yet poorly guarded residential complex. When I reviewed the security camera footage in my home afterward, I found nothing - nothing but blind spots. They transported me to an abandoned house and threw into a cellar - a typical rustic cellar where vegetables are stored. The stench was unbearable, like rotten potatoes," Alexander grimaced, his complexion turning pale, and Daniel swallowed nervously, feeling a pang of sympathy.

"The first day they kept me deprived of food, water, and sight with a rubber blindfold covering my eyes. It was terrifying; unable to see, I feared for my life, imagining I had been left to perish there. Every rustle filled me with dread, and the cold was unbearable. I even entertained ridiculous thoughts - fearing my limbs would be amputated due to poor blood circulation, leaving me forever helpless.

Time seemed to drag on endlessly; what felt like several days turned out to be only one. Did you know the Japanese used sensory deprivation as an effective torture method during the war? Deprived of sight, sound, and spatial orientation, one easily loses their sanity.

By the time they came to check on me, I was on the verge of madness. Initially, I screamed in terror, convinced they were going to kill me. Then I lost control and pissed myself. They laughed, tossed me a blanket, cut the zip ties on my ankles, gave a bottle of water, and informed me that the first day of my "reflection" had passed - without further explanation, they left. I shouted, threatened, and pounded my hands against the log walls, futilely attempting to break free until I realized the door was overhead, not in front of me. Exhausted, I eventually wrapped myself in the blanket, drank water, and found solace. Despite the ordeal, I wasn't harmed physically; the provision of water and a bit of warmth was enough to lift my spirits."

"The parallel is glaringly obvious," Daniel retorted coldly, each word dripping with simmering anger. "You used a similar tactic with me, didn't you? Gradually improving my circumstances so that I'd feel indebted to you. Motherfucker! You subjected yourself to a miniature version of it, you asshole! How could you subject me to more cruelty for a longer duration?"

"I'm sorry, Danny. I was raised with certain beliefs: don't let wrongdoings go unpunished, retaliate immediately, repay shit with a hundredfold. And I misjudged you, I've admitted that countless times. Please, hear me out, maybe you'll gain a better understanding of my actions," Alexander interjected, nervously intertwining his fingers.

"They kept me there for a week, and by the end, I was weakened from lack of food and battling a severe cold. Yes, they gave me brief respites each day. On the last two days, they even turned on a light bulb, removed the blindfold, and handed me a tattered volume of Esenin. I don't know why Esenin. But I read the entire book, reciting the poems aloud like a madman, just to hear my own voice, to keep from losing it completely.

By the end, I was delirious, running a fever. They dragged me out of there unconscious, and I woke up in the hospital. That's when it all clicked: who was behind it all. They weren't intending to kill me; they didn't want any trouble with my father. They just wanted to scare the young runt, to send a message that things could get worse next time. I didn't tell anybody, except Goshka, about this. My father thought I'd caught a cold in the mountains and scolded me for picking such a foolish sport," Alexander recounted, his voice trailing off.

"So, you decided to take care of it on your own," Daniel said thoughtfully, absorbing Alexander's words with rapt attention.

"Yes, I did. My pride was wounded; I wanted those thugs to show me respect. If I had turned to my father for help, there would have been no respect. I was mistaken about one thing - when I believed Fedorov acted alone. Goshka volunteered to assist; he was deeply self-critical for failing to ensure my safety. We meticulously observed Fedorov's routines.

That cautious old fox was always vigilant, and never went anywhere without bodyguards, but he had a weak spot - his granddaughter, who lived with his daughter-in-law after divorcing his son. His daughter-in-law feared all of Fedorov's pit bulls, so he visited her alone if she and her granddaughter didn't come to him. That's how we got him.

Goshka recruited a petty criminal who stole his daughter-in-law's cellphone, and we sent the old coot a message claiming Lizonka was ill, urging him to visit her. So, he rushed to their home in the Moscow suburbs solo, like a lamb to the slaughter. Except, neither the daughter-in-law nor the granddaughter were at home; they had left for the Seychelles – instead of them, it was just me and Gosha, clad in all-black attire like fucking ninjas.

I took the bastard into the basement, which was built on his money; it was cozy and warm, unlike the one I had been in. His family was supposed to be away for two weeks, but I intended to release him after one, just like they did me. However... I failed to consider that he was diabetic. It wasn't until the morning of the second day that I rummaged through his bag, found insulin syringes, dashed downstairs, but... Anyway, on the second day, we discovered him lifeless," Alexander coughed, his face buried in his hands as he continued to speak in a hushed tone.

"We deleted messages from both phones, moved him to the guest bedroom, replaced the camera footage, and substituted it with another. One of Goshka's skilled associates adeptly fabricated an old archive recording of Fedorov driving into the yard and entering the house. Overall, everything appeared innocent: even the bruises on his hands could be easily explained - bruises are commonplace among diabetics. Perhaps someone had suspicions, but they didn't connect them to me. Fedorov had many enemies. I never intended to kill him, Danny, do you believe me?"

"Didn't intend to kill, but you did," Daniel said harshly, still reeling from the weighty narrative. "And I was nearly killed by others in prison. Damn it, you're repulsive. Why the hell did you keep those tapes? To obsess over them like a maniac?"

"To remember my transgression. I purposely selected shots where Goshka wasn't visible - I don't want to inadvertently implicate him," Alexander mumbled despondently. "So that I never repeat the same mistake. Danny, please, don't draw parallels with yourself, your experiences are in no way related."

"Why not?" Daniel grimaced bitterly. "You sought revenge on both of us, only in my case I prolonged the agony and operated more subtly, and the outcome, if Maxim hadn't pulled me away from the balcony, would have been the same. Please, just go, I don't want to see you right now."

"I won't leave," Alexander exclaimed, desperation gleaming in his eyes. "I've told you everything, Danny, I've exposed my dreadful secret. I want you to realize that only under the sway of emotion do I impulsively commit terrible things, but I deeply regret them afterward! And, Danny, where you're concerned, I vow never to..."

"Leave for at least an hour, I can't bear to look at you," Daniel threw his head back, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "Just go. Get the hell out!"

"One hour, Danny," Alexander reiterated, rising to his feet. "Then I'll return, and we'll discuss something positive. You're safe with me, especially now that my fate rests in your hands. Please understand," he helplessly banged his fist against the door frame, not waiting for a response, and exited.

Daniel immediately rose, marched to the bathroom on stiff legs, gazed at his own shocked, pale face, where wide, frightened eyes stared back at him. He turned on the water, rewound the recording to the middle, played it, then turned it off, ensuring everything was in order. He put the recorder back in its place and tore off his T-shirt - stress had caused him to sweat, leaving a sharp, sour scent in his armpits and a nasty sticky film on his skin. All in all, it felt as though he had just been drenched in filth.

He could somewhat understand Alexander's perspective: his unique upbringing, temperament, vanity, and desire for dominance all played their part. Nevertheless, he couldn't fathom how a modern, civilized man, educated in the West, could stoop to such barbarism. Then again, why be surprised? Alexander had inflicted worse upon him. Daniel stood beneath the shower, cranked the water to its maximum, and let out a miserable groan - despite everything, a sense of pity lingered deep within him. Pity for a murderer who had nearly taken his life - how absurd was that? Daniel slammed his fist against the unyielding glass wall. Pain and numbness shot through his knuckles, but somehow, it felt cathartic. He continued to pound the wall relentlessly, crying out as sharp pains shot through his bones. The steam from the hot water obscured the wall, and the streaks of blood, blurred by the water, bore an eerie resemblance to scenes from a horror film. Breathing became increasingly difficult, his heart raced with intense emotions and exertion, yet Daniel persisted, pounding away until he was utterly spent. Collapsing to the floor of the shower stall, he hugged his knees tightly, the torrent of water from above almost suffocating him as he writhed in anguish.

It was time to stop the fruitless analysis of the impossible, the surreal events unfolding between him and the man who controlled his life. Instead, he needed to surrender to the current, allowing himself to embrace the strange emotions without resistance, lest he risk losing his sanity in the process. He had to simply acknowledge the circumstances for what they were, much like Ibu Tri, his gentle, caring Indonesian nanny, who neither judged nor condoned, but accepted with serene understanding. Her weathered, dark-skinned face seemed to come to life as her lips parted, whispering softly.

"Danny, when you scared and lost, don't think too much, not at all. You hide in crevice. Any crevice. Like that one," she gestured upward with a dry, trembling finger.

"How do I enter?" Daniel whispered back, his gaze shifting to his hands, now stained with blood with bits of red wool clinging to them. Tears no longer fell, a profound, untamed yearning surged within him for the loyal, dependable Cooper, who would never again come bounding, never grace him with affectionate licks. Daniel recoiled at yet another frantic scream and a foreboding rumble, and posed a question fraught with despair.

"Is this some sort of joke?"

"Your spirit small. It can go there, it live there," she tenderly brushed his forehead, redirecting his gaze toward the ceiling. "Look up there and see: you become small. And run there, run," Ibu Tri pantomimed a miniature runner with her fingers. "Jump into crevice and rest there. It safe, quiet, spirits live there, they protect. Try."

Daniel looked incredulously at the crevice, swiped his palms on his T-shirt, blocked his ears to drown out the distressing screams that churned his insides. He braced himself, imagining the small figure unlatching an invisible door in his mind and darting fleetly towards the ceiling. Mouth agape, eyes widened, he propelled forward; it felt like he was sprinting, and suddenly, the tiny fissure loomed closer, expanding, inviting. With fearless resolve, he leaped inside. As he plummeted, the harrowing cries and rumbling dissipated, yielding to a heavenly tranquility. He landed unexpectedly onto something plush and secure, falling into hushed serenity, a smile of triumph stretching across his face: it worked!

"Danny, my goodness, Danny," he was abruptly snapped out of his dream into the frigid reality, jolted, Alexander screamed in horror when he beheld the blood. "Da-annyyyy!"

"Leave me," Daniel mumbled wearily, pulling back. "Just give me an hour..."

"It's been an hour! I've come into the bedroom multiple times, waited for you to come out from the bathroom!" Alexander tossed a towel over Daniel's shoulders, lifting him by the waist and guiding him towards the exit. "I shouldn't have told everything to you; you weren't prepared. Let me give you a sedative now, just wait."

"No need for a sedative, I'm okay," Daniel collapsed onto the bed in the bedroom, pulling the blanket over himself and murmuring. "I'm just thirsty." He was remarkably calm now, devoid of any turmoil; all he craved was a drink and some sleep.

Alexander carefully provided him with water, wrapped a towel around his injured hands, and stepped out, making a call. Later, amidst his slumber, Daniel felt his hands being gently examined, treated with something stinging, and securely bandaged, but he was too lethargic to fully awaken. Then, a sturdy hug enveloped him, lulling him back to sleep, accompanied by tender, soothing whispers, and he drifted into a comforting embrace of slumber.