by Bea Paige
Erik looks from her hand touching his arm back up to her bowed head. It’s exactly too much to ask, but Rose has no way of knowing that. The words I have to tell her as much are currently stuck in my throat, as are Anton’s, given he’s not uttered a word either.
The air bleeds with tension as we all wait for Erik’s response. This is such a bad fucking idea.
“One day, perhaps,” he replies.
Anton looks at me in shock, raising his eyebrows. I grip the chair in front of me to steady myself. Rose nods her head, then without looking at Erik removes her hand, turns slowly on her feet and returns to her seat by my side, completely oblivious to the miracle that’s just taken place. Without saying another word, Erik sits at the table and places the violin and bow on the floor by his feet.
“Were you all childhood friends?” Rose asks me, as she settles at the table.
“Yes, we were… Erik is Ms Hadley’s son.”
Chapter Eleven
Rose
Her son?
“You’re Ms Hadley’s son?” I ask Erik. He simply nods his head, watching me.
I can’t see how this beautiful man is made from the same gene pool as Ms Hadley. Where she’s dark, he’s blonde. Where she has a sharp stare and black eyes, his are the burnt colour of autumn leaves with hidden depths of gold, not unlike the wood of his violin. But there is something else about him that draws me in. It’s something I recognise.
Despair.
I see it in the shake of his fingers, the tightness of his shoulders and the jitter of his leg beneath the table. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline down the side of his face. This man is fighting something with every breath of his being and I can’t believe they brought him here in this state. I’m about to suggest they take Erik back to his safe space, but Anton begins to talk.
“Erik was adopted by Ms Hadley when he was five, and consequently by my family too. He lives here with us so that we can take care of him,” he explains.
I rip my gaze away from Erik and turn my attention to Anton. The last time we met, his hands were covered in red paint and he was anxious that I hadn’t left the Manor. Well, it’s long past four pm now, and nothing untoward has happened. This time the length of his hair is pulled back from his face in a high bun and his beard is groomed and tidy. Everything about him is more presentable. He seems like a different man altogether except for the fact that his hands are still spotted with paint. Green this time, not unlike the colour of my eyes.
“I see,” I respond, not certain that I do.
Why would Ms Hadley agree to her son being locked up in this house? In fact, given what she said to me when I arrived, I’m pretty certain she wouldn’t be happy about me having dinner with him either. She’s already warned me off Ivan, which is ridiculous considering I have no intention of getting involved with him romantically. Ivan isn’t capable of a loving relationship and there’s no way I want to revisit the darkness of my past with him, or anyone else for that matter.
“Erik, are you okay with this?” I ask him.
He doesn’t answer me. Whatever lucidity he had a minute ago has disappeared. I can see the darkness closing over him, and my heart aches. This is cruel.
“Ivan, please…” I say, looking between him and Erik.
“Erik has post-traumatic stress disorder from his time serving in the army,” Anton explains.
“He shouldn’t be here,” I respond, keeping my voice calm even though I want to scream at Anton and Ivan for bringing him to this meal when he’s clearly not ready to be around people he isn’t familiar with.
“You wanted to meet him,” Ivan accuses, defensive now.
“Not like this, not at his expense.”
Erik stands abruptly. “I need to go.” He bends down, picks up his violin and bow and clutches them to his chest once more. His grip is so tight on the bow that it bends under his grasp.
“It was nice to meet you…” my voice trails off at the look of agony in his eyes. He knows as well as I do that nothing about this meeting was nice, for him particularly.
“I should go.” He turns on his heel and strides from the room. His tall, strong frame in such contrast to the vulnerability leaching from him.
“Anton, see him back to his rooms safely, please,” Ivan asks.
“Rose, forgive me. I won’t be but a moment,” Anton says, before rushing off after Erik.
The moment they leave I turn on Ivan. “What the hell was that?”
“That was Erik.”
“You know what I mean, Ivan!”
“Rose, these are your terms. You wanted to meet Erik and Anton. Well, now you have.”
I watch him take a sip of wine without any sense of regret at putting his friend through such an ordeal.
“You really are an arsehole, aren’t you?” I ask incredulously.
“I’ve been made aware that I am on more than one occasion, yes,” he responds, a flash of amusement in his eyes.
I want to scream at him for being such a pig. If this is how he treats his friends, fuck knows how I’ll be treated as a member of his staff. I get up and stride over to the corner of the room, grabbing my coat from the chaise longue.
“Erik doesn’t need to be locked up in this house. He needs professional help, he needs fresh air and kindness, he needs care. Given everything you’ve admitted to me about your torrid little fucks, kindness and care aren’t part of your vocabulary. I’m leaving.”
Ivan stands, blocking my path to the door. He grabs hold of my arm and squeezes.
“I look after my own, Rose. Erik gets the best possible care money can buy, I assure you he is very well looked after.”
“You lock him in! You brought him to this dinner with no thought to how it would affect him!” I shout, not able to keep my voice down.
I know what it’s like to be kept prisoner at the whim of someone else. Those weeks were the darkest of my life. But you never felt more alive before or since. Isn’t that what frightens you more? that little voice inside my head reminds me.
I ignore it.
Ivan crosses his arms defensively. “You wanted to meet him…”
“You could’ve just explained the situation. Are you that insensitive to other people’s needs?”
“Yes,” he admits. “I don’t know how to be any other way.”
His honesty knocks the wind out of my sails a little. We look at each other, another unspoken conversation going on between us, one that I have no idea how to handle. He’s not a nice man, he freely admits that. He messes with people, with women. He hurts the people he claims to love, and he has no regard for his friends. So why the hell am I still standing here? Why am I drawn to him so completely?
Because the darkness has always attracted you, Rose, that little voice taunts.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say, mainly to myself.
Don’t lie to yourself. You want him. You crave the darkness.
“We had an agreement,” Ivan responds sharply.
“I might have bled on you accidentally, Ivan, but you don’t own me. There’s no contract written in blood anywhere that says I have to do a damn thing.”
“Perhaps there should be,” he mutters.
I pretend not to hear and move towards the door ignoring the voice in my head and Ivan’s angry stare. I reach for the handle, but it swings open and in walks a middle-aged woman with greying hair. She’s carrying a tray of food. I let out a surprised sound.
“Should I come back in a few minutes, Mr Sachov?” she asks, glancing between us both.
“No, Fran, please serve the starter. Erik will take his in his room, he’s no longer dining with us tonight.”
“No problem,” she replies.
We both wait whilst she places three plates on the table. She glances at me quickly and smiles. Her eyes are kind, there’s no hidden agenda in them. Not like the man before me, or Ms Hadley.
“I thought you didn’t have other staff?” I ask, distracted by Fran’s appearance.
“We have two cooks, a handful of maids and three groundsmen. That’s the household Ms Hadley runs. I will introduce them to you all when you start back on Monday.”
“If I decide to start on Monday,” I say.
“When you start,” Ivan insists.
Fran shuffles past us both, leaving the room with a gentle click of the door as it shuts behind her. The moment she’s gone, Ivan steps closer to me. He frowns, no doubt trying to figure out a way to manipulate me into staying.
“Get out of my way, Ivan.” My body flushes with heat at his nearness, and I despise myself for it.
“We had a fucking deal, Rose,” he says, looming over me.
“Like I said. There was no contract. I’m under no obligation to stay,” I respond coolly. If I choose to work for him, it will be because I decide it’s worth the risk, not because he wants to bully me into it.
“You can no more walk away than I can. I know you want me, Rose,” he retorts, arrogant enough to believe he’s right. I laugh, covering up the fact that he may well be. Am I really considering this after everything he’s said, everything I’ve seen?
But he is right, isn’t he? You couldn’t walk away from Roman and you won’t with these men either. Stop lying to yourself, Rose.
Roman… My heart aches just acknowledging his name after all these years.
“You know nothing about how I feel,” I respond, trying to keep my voice steady.
Ivan clamps his jaw shut as he looks at me, the tension between us is overbearing. I step backwards needing a little space, Ivan breathes out heavily as though glad of it. At least one of us has the capacity to think with their head and not another part of their anatomy. But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? I might be level headed enough to take myself out of this situation, out of the desire already growing between us, but for how long? Ivan admitted he might not be able to stop himself from trying to seduce me, but he’s relying solely on me to fight it. That’s not fair, and neither is the fact part of the “deal” is that I never dance again. That if I do, he thinks he can just “have” me. It’s just bullshit. I need to dance, just like he clearly needs to fuck.
And yet you still came tonight despite that. You know what you want, Rose. Stop lying to yourself.
“This was a bad idea. You just don’t get it,” I say, shaking my head. Stepping around him I head for the door and escape.
I don’t get very far.
“Rose, stop,” Ivan says, grabbing hold of my shoulder.
I stiffen under his touch, but for whatever stupid reason I don’t move. My feet remain glued to the floor. He steps up behind me and I have to press my eyes shut at his nearness. His closeness sets my skin on fire and I hate him for it.
“Rose, you’re right, bringing Erik here to meet you probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. But those were your terms and I need you to stay…” he says quietly.
The difference in the tone of his voice is marked. Something about it makes me turn around to face him.
“Why? So you can hurt me too?” I ask, looking up into his beautiful face. His kind of beauty is the deadly kind, like a venus flytrap, or a mythical siren. Both lure their prey before devouring them.
“Yes,” he blurts out. “It’s what I do…”
I laugh at his response, shaking my head. “Goodbye, Ivan.”
“Wait!”
From the other side of the room Anton enters. He flashes a look at Ivan that I can’t interpret before striding over to me. He stands between us both, blocking Ivan from my line of sight. Behind him, I hear Ivan snarl. Anton ignores him.
Looking up into Anton’s dark eyes, I wait. What now? What can Anton possible say to make me change my mind? More to the point, why would he care enough to do so?
“Erik’s okay now, Rose. I understand why this has upset you, but please know he wanted to be here. He wanted to meet you, Ivan didn’t make him. Erik chose to come. He’s trying to get better.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Anton continues.
“Look, I can see that you’re the type of person who truly does give a shit, believe me I’ve met many who pretend they do, but most definitely don’t. I’m asking you not to leave because you think you understand who Ivan truly is, because you never will… He’s complicated. We all are, Rose.”
“Anton, for fuck’s sake,” Ivan begins, but Anton holds up his hand, cutting him off.
“I know exactly the kind of man he is. There’s nothing complicated about him. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s just an arsehole,” I retort.
“You’re absolutely right, he is an arsehole, there’s no denying that.”
“Fuck you, Ant,” Ivan snaps.
“But you wouldn’t have come here tonight if you didn’t think you could handle him. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen how Erik reacted to you earlier I would’ve taken you home myself. I know enough about Ivan to know he’s no good for you.”
“That’s right, you warned me about Ivan the first time we met. You said he would hurt me, just like her…” I know now that Anton was talking about Svetlana. All those affairs, her heart shattered because Ivan didn’t love her enough to be faithful.
“What the fuck, Anton?!” Ivan says, stepping to the side so I can see the expression on his face. He looks like he’s about to commit murder.
Anton ignores the rage emanating from Ivan. “I should probably still take you home, warn you off, but selfishly I want you stay for Erik.”
“For Erik? What do you mean?” I ask, frowning.
Ivan cuts off Anton, answering my question before he can.
“Erik never lets women touch him, let alone get close to him like you just did. You’re the first person aside from Anton and me that has been able to do that,” Ivan explains, scraping a hand through his hair. He glances at Anton who’s staring at me in that unnerving way of his.
“Is this true?” I ask Anton, not trusting a word that comes out of Ivan’s mouth.
“Yes. Erik suffers with flashbacks. Occasionally those flashbacks can become more real than the world around him. It’s at those times when he’s a danger to himself, and others. He was in the special forces, he saw things that can’t be unseen, experienced things that can’t be forgotten. During the day when we’re not around we keep the doors locked for his safety,” Anton explains.
“And after four you let him out? Well, isn’t that generous of you all?”
Ivan crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at me.
“He isn’t a prisoner, Rose. We include Erik in every decision. He agreed to this. He needs routine, he needs clear boundaries whilst he recovers. So yes, during the day he remains in his rooms and has more freedom when the staff go home.”
“And at that point you let Erik roam free like some animal allowed out of its cage?”
Ivan flinches.
“It’s not like that, we make sure that one of us is always here to keep him company. We take it in turns. We want him to get better,” Anton insists.
“And the violin?”
“Part of his recovery. Erik played before he went into the army. He was good, really good, but despite what he promised you, Erik hasn’t managed to play a full piece since before he was conscripted to Afghanistan. The trauma he suffered and the memories that plague him are bound up so tightly within his love of classical music that he can’t play the violin without dredging up the horrors of war. His ability to play a full piece is both the key to his healing and the lock that binds him to his past and the memories that make him so unwell.”
“That’s so sad,” I say, my heart aching for him.
“And yet, today, for the first time in two years he’s allowed a woman to touch him,” Anton says.
“Woman?” I frown.
“I meant person.”
He’s lying. He meant woman. Why would Erik have an issue with a woman touching him? Why would Anton lie about it? More mystery, more secrets. So many secrets. I have too many of my own, am I really willing to be surrounded
by more?
Anton cocks his head and stares at me with the same unnerving look he gave me when I first met him. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes my hair stand on end and my skin prickle with heat. It unnerves me. It’s as though he’s absorbing every detail.
Not for the first time I wonder who this man is. If I’m honest, all three have me intrigued in different ways.
Ivan and his sexual prowess, the overwhelming chemistry I feel around him. There’s an undeniable darkness within him. It’s intoxicating. It calls to a long suppressed part of me, a part that wants to tame it.
Anton and the mystery that surrounds him, the intense way he looks at me. The two seemingly different ways he presents himself; the self-assured man in front of me now, and the man I met on the first day.
Erik and his heartbreaking vulnerability. A man who’s more dangerous than Ivan and Anton put together.
These men each represent a piece of a man I once loved. A man who gave me the memories I’ve been running from for the last fourteen years. Memories of dark rooms filled with pain and release, fear and joy, lust and love. It all comes flooding back and I don’t know how I feel about it.
Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly how I feel. I feel afraid, but worse than that, I’m excited. The darkest parts of me begin to come alive and I already know that if I pursue them, I may not survive this time.
If I give in. If I truly let go, perhaps none of us will.
“Rose, did you hear me?” Anton says, pulling my attention back to him.
My eyes focus once more as Ivan grips Anton’s shoulder.
“Let’s sit, we’ll talk more,” Ivan demands, nodding his head to the empty seats.
I look between the two men and think of the third who’s missing now, and despite all common sense I decide to stay.
That maniacal little voice inside my head starts to laugh.
Chapter Twelve
Ivan
I should have let her leave.
A good man would’ve let her go. I’m not that man, and neither is Anton.