“This is my daughter!” she calls out and almost every eye in the place turns to her. “My daughter was murdered and no one cares. All of you only care about your stupid parties and your stupid politics and your stupid money!” A ripple of murmuring goes through the crowd and I clench my jaw. This will probably make page six tomorrow unless I call my publicist right away. The last thing I need is more light being shed on Adrienne's death. Adrienne needs to stay forgotten. She needs to stay dead.
“Jesus Christ,” Selene says as Bryan whispers in Jessica's ear and pulls her away. “She's gone insane.”
“She's not insane,” I respond as Jessica screams and curses Bryan for touching her. He ignores her protests. He drags her through the crowd and the people part and move away, like they don't want to touch her or be near her. Like her emotion is catching. These people don't like too much emotion. They don't like how messy it is. Neither do I, to be honest. Her little scene has dampened the party for now, but it'll be something they'll all laugh about later. I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Bryan. I tell him to accompany her home and not leave her alone tonight. She's not stable and I know it's partially my fault. I feel responsible for her, even though she's nothing to me.
Next to me, Selene kneels and swipes something off the floor. I turn to her in time to see her staring down at the picture of Adrienne that Jessica dropped. It's a picture of Adrienne from the Hamina gala at the Met. One of the last nights of her life, as far as the world is concerned. She's not looking at the photographer's camera – in fact, she looks like she's trying to escape the scrutiny of the lens. She has her hand against her chest, like she's trying to shield herself from the gaze of others. Her hair is a dark halo around her face and her lips are parted, like a word is on the tip of her tongue. I wonder if the picture was taken before or after I fucked her. My beautiful Adrienne. In a sea of peacocks, she was a hummingbird, flitting away at any sign of trouble. She can't run anymore. She can't hide.
She's locked in my cage and that's where she's going to stay.
Selene is staring at me but I can't look away from the picture. I want it but I don't want to take it from Selene. I don't want her to know how much I want it. So I turn away and reach for the closest guest. I greet them and pretend that everything is fine. I pretend that Jessica didn't just make a scene and that Adrienne doesn't exist. The party returns to normal, slowly but surely. I know Jessica's outburst will be a hot topic in the days to come, but I don't think Adrienne will be discussed. As far as everyone is concerned, the poor dead girl is not polite conversation. Jessica Stockton-Hamina, however, is very much alive. She's fair game.
I lock it all away and forget it happened for the rest of the night. Selene seems to do the same, sticking close to my side and laughing when I laugh and echoing my gracious words to the guests. She plays the role of the perfect wife so easily. She's stunning and she doesn't talk to much and she fits right in because that's the way she was raised. I used to appreciate these qualities in her; now all I can feel is impatient. I'm impatient for the life I will have when I can have Adrienne all to myself. I'm impatient for when I can spend as many nights as I want with her and not have anyone questioning me. I'm impatient for my life to be the way it always should've been. My perfect wife can't measure up to that.
It isn't until we're in the car on the way home that Selene bares her claws.
“What do you owe Jessica Stockton-Hamina?” she asks, her voice deceptively blasé.
“Hmm?” I murmur, scrolling through emails on my phone like my mind isn't elsewhere.
“She said that you owe her something,” Selene murmurs, running her fingers over the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist.
“I haven't the slightest idea. You saw her. She was out of her mind,” I reply, crossing my legs lazily. Selene plays with her bracelet for awhile, the rumble of the road beneath us the only sound in the car.
“What did you promise Jessica?” she asks. “What did you promise her that made her so angry?”
“Do you really want to know?” I say blandly. “It's not a very pleasant story.”
“Yes,” she says. “Tell me.”
“I promised to help search for Adrienne's remains,” I answer, deciding to give her a bit of truth. If I give a little, she'll be more satisfied. I despise playing these stupid little games with her, but for now, I have no choice. “I flew a crew to Turkey and had them survey the bomb site. They found her camera and... other things.”
“Other things? Like what?”
“Bones. Blood. Guts.” I turn back to her in time to see the disgust slide over her features. Selene doesn't want to think of pretty little girls getting blown to bits. She doesn't want to know all the other things my men found at the bomb site. Baby clothes covered in ash and blood. Broken coffee cups and half-burned books mixed in with bits of intestines and brain.
“What did you ask for in return?” Selene asks, because she knows me too well. She knows I would never do such an act out of the kindness of my heart.
“I wanted to watch Bryan fuck her,” I answer, again giving just enough truth that she won't be able to see through me. Selene's mouth drops open and I know I've told her something despicable enough that she's bound to believe it. “It was a sick game,” I say, admitting the truth. I got what I wanted out of it, so I can't really complain, but I know it was sick. Everything I've done since Adrienne's unfortunate incident has been teetering on the wrong side of depravity. At this point, there's no line I won't cross.
“Jessica agreed to that?”
“She wasn't quite clear on the terms of our agreement.”
“You're unbelievable.” My wife shakes her head and snorts out a laugh. “I'll never understand your fascination with that family.”
“There is no fascination,” I say coldly.
“I think you're getting too loose with your actions,” she says. “Everyone at the event tonight is going to be wondering what is your connection with Jessica. They'll start talking. Then all I'll hear will be whispers behind my back.”
“And?” I shrug lightly, even though the situation is anything but light.
“And? And I care!” she screams and I clench my jaw in surprise at her outburst. This situation is getting tiresome. So tiresome. “I will not be made a fool of.” She takes a deep breath, seemingly calming herself. “I've made a decision.”
“What's that?”
“After Christmas, I want us to start trying to have a family. By this time next year I want to be pregnant. And you'll give up the coke whore and the prostitutes and you'll be a good father. And you'll come home at night. Every night.” She nodded sharply. “That is what I want.”
“Now who's playing sick games?” I ask even though I know she's not playing a game. She's completely serious. “You don't want a baby.”
“Yes, I do. I always have. And you're going to give me one.”
“And if I don't?” I ask, keeping my tone as level as possible.
“I'll move upstate, to the mansion,” she says.
“Bullshit,” I say. There's no way she'll quarantine herself up at the mansion just to prove a point. She's angry with me, but she's not that stubborn.
“I'll get pregnant, whether you want me to or not,” she says, so flippantly that I know that this time she's telling the truth. “I want a baby and I'm going to have one. You don't get to change my plans because you've become preoccupied with perverted little games.” I turn my head and stare at her for a long moment, trying to decide how or if I should respond. She thinks she has the upper-hand, so I decide to let her have it, for now. She reaches for her clutch and clicks it open. I watch her pull the folded-up picture of Adrienne out of her bag. It takes everything in me not to reach over and snatch it out of her fingers. She unfolds it slowly and I clench my hand into a fist. There's a rude crease down the center of the picture, cutting Adrienne in half. I want to smooth it out and keep it in the top drawer of my desk at work forever. It's completely irrational but I can't
help it. Adrienne deserves to be encased and appreciated for all of eternity.
“I never liked her,” my wife announces softly.
“You barely knew her,” I can't help but say, my eyes never leaving the picture.
“I met her a few times.” Selene taps her finger on Adrienne's face. “You took me to her father's funeral. Do you remember that?”
“Of course I remember. Her father was very important to my father.”
“And what about her? Was she important?” She stares back at me calmly as memories force their way through my brain. I remember how beautifully unstable my little bird looked at her father's funeral. I remember how much I wanted to fuck Adrienne that day, but I couldn't. I rake my hand through my hair at the memory and immediately regret the thoughtless action. I never fidget. My wife knows this. She'll know I'm lying if I speak now. So I don't say anything, even though my silence will speak as loud as any words I could say. “It's Adrienne, isn't it?” she says finally. I don't respond. “That girl in your bed.” She shifts in the seat, the leather creaking as she moves. I stare straight ahead, willing my heart to stop beating as quickly as it is. I need to keep calm. I need to keep cool. “She looked just like Adrienne Hamina.”
“Did she?,” I say with a slow blink.
“I saw her,” Selene says. “I saw what she looked like.”
“You don't know what you saw.” I stare her down.
“Dark frizzy hair, tan skin, plain face,” Selene said. “Less limbs, though.” She stares down at the picture. I reach into my pocket and touch the packet of cigarettes that is nestled there. I want a smoke suddenly, but I don't want to light up in front of her. It seems like a weakness, too, a nervous tick that I have no control over. “I saw how you looked at her. You think I wasn't paying attention, but I was. I watched how your eyes followed her around the room. I saw how you followed her into the museum like a puppy following a bouncing ball. And now you're fucking prostitutes that look like a dead woman and playing sick sex games with Jessica.” She clicked her tongue. “This just won't do, darling.”
“Don't concern yourself.” I'm getting a very bad feeling. This is not going to end well. I've known that for the past week, though. I've been procrastinating on making solid plans, but I'm going to have to rectify that situation. The time for making plans is now.
“I don't like it.” She makes a little humming noise in her throat. “I don't like it at all.” She runs her finger over Adrienne's face again.
“I don't care,” I say, truthfully. She looks at me pointedly. She's not satisfied with my answer. Then, without another thought, she rips the picture down the middle. As I watch, she tears the picture into little pieces. Then she rolls the window down and tosses all the pieces out of the car, like they're trash. Like Adrienne is worth nothing. The pieces flash in the light of the street lamp for a moment and then they disappear into the night. “There.” Selene says with a smug smile as she rolls the window back up. “Now she's gone.”
I feel my lips curl into a smile to match hers. Suddenly, everything seems so simple. Selene doesn't realize what she's done. She doesn't know that a picture of a dead woman just tipped the scales. Selene has sealed her own fate. She doesn't know it yet, but she will.
Soon.
“Yes,” I say. “She's gone.”
*****
“Dorian!” my voice echoes through the room and my throat aches from screaming but I can't stop. He's not listening to me, no matter what I say. I sit up and wince at a phantom pain in my legs. They're almost completely healed now, but there's still pain. I'm used to it, but at the moment, I'm not in the mood. I grit my teeth and growl in frustration, grabbing the pillows and throwing them at the nearest person. It's someone I don't know, someone I've never seen before, but they have their hands all over my things. Well, the things that Dorian has given me. They're packing the dresses and toiletries and everything else into a new set of leather luggage, ignoring me like I'm not even there. None of them look at me, even as I yell and scream. “Tell me what's going on!”
“Adrienne, please,” he says sternly from the doorway. He's leaning against the doorjamb, his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, like nothing is out of the ordinary. Outwardly, he seems almost bored, but I know him. He's tense. His muscles are tight. Something is happening but I don't know what it is.
“Don't,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “You moved me to this room and now you're moving me again? Why?”
“It's not your concern, pet,” he says, putting a cigarette to his lips but not lighting it. “I have only your best interest at heart.” I laugh, the sound loud even in the noisy room.
“You don't give one single shit about my best interest,” I say, throwing the last pillow in his direction. I'm too weak and he's too far and it lands a few yards away from him. It's so ineffectual it's almost laughable. But it's all I have. He drops his eyes to the pillow and then raises them back to me. A spark of amusement flickers in his eyes. The thought that he's amused by my plight is even more aggravating. “I'm not your pet. I'm not a thing that you can toss around and treat however you see fit.”
“That's exactly what you are,” he says and I think he's joking, but I can't be sure. Two months ago, I would've thought he was serious, but he's been different lately. Softer. More caring. He's been whispering promises to me as he fucks me. He's been staying longer, taking more time. Well, he was. Two weeks ago, he moved me into this smaller room and his visits have slowed to a trickle. There was a time when I wouldn't have given a shit how often he visited, but now I miss him. Now I want him here. I want to be in his arms at night. I'm lonely without him. I yearn for him. And it makes me angry.
The problem is I'm not sure who I'm more angry with – him or me.
“I want to go back to the peacock room,” I say.
“No.” The humor dies in his eyes. “You will go where I tell you to go and do what I tell you to do.”
“Or what?” I say, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Don't test me, Adrienne,” he says and suddenly he sounds so tired. Without thinking I hold my arms out to him. I want all of these people to go away. I want to be alone with him. I want him to take off his starched shirt and his tailored suit and his perfectly shined shoes. When he's in bed with me, none of this other stuff matters. When we fuck, the outside world doesn't exist. The outside world that both of us want to forget stops spinning.
“Come to me,” I say. “Send them all away.”
“Stop it.” He takes the cigarette from his mouth and tucks it away again. I drop my hands to the hem of my nightgown and drag it up over my thighs. I ignore the thick scars because I know he doesn't care about them. In fact, I think he likes them. I don't care if anyone else in the room is looking at me; in fact, I'm sure they're not. As far as they're concerned, I don't exist. I wonder if it's because I look so tragic or if it's because he's told them not to look at me. Either way, it doesn't matter.The only one I care about is Dorian and he's staring at me and only me. His eyes are dark and his face is tense, like he's daring me to test him.
I pull the hem up higher, exposing the dark hair at the apex of my thighs because I know that will make him wild. His nostrils flare and he takes the bait. He jolts forward and crosses the room and I bite my lip in anticipation. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me back on the bed. He yanks my gown down and then hovers over me, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of my hips.
“Why must you be difficult?” he growls, his teeth clenched.
“Tell me what's going on,” I respond, reaching up and sliding my fingers beneath his suit jacket.
“I can't have you here anymore. So I'm moving you,” he says, softly.
“I want to go back to the peacock room,” I say. “The bed is more comfortable. And I never feel lonely there.” I think of the carving on the headboard in the big room. I never thought I would miss it, but I do. Everything about this room is more boring than my old room. It feels colder. Not like
home. I never thought I would say it, but I felt better in my old room. Safer.
“No,” he shakes his head. “We're leaving this house. I'm taking you somewhere that no one will find you. A place no one will think to look.”
I don't like the sound of that one bit.
“Does this have to do with Jessica?” I ask because I have to know. At the mention of her name, my heart squeezes in my chest. The thought of him hurting her again on account of me makes me want to gut him like a fish.
“No, darling,” he says, lifting a hand to caress my cheek. “I'm taking care of Jessica. Don't worry about her.”
“I don't believe you.” I slip my finger between the gap made by two buttons in his shirt and feel his chest. I rub my fingertip against the warmth of his hidden skin. It's comforting, somehow.
“I'll never hurt her again, unless she tries to take you from me. Believe that.” Then he pulls away from me and I whine in frustration. I want his body on top of mine. I want him to make me believe that he cares enough about me to spare Jessica from his games. But he doesn't seem to care if I'm convinced. “Irina!” he calls, his voice booming through the room. “It's time.”
Irina appears in the door and I glance up in time to see that she's carrying a clear vial and something else I can't see. My whole body goes rigid because I know instantly what he's going to do. I try to scramble backward on the bed to get away from them but he moves lightning quick, wrapping his hand in my nightgown. He drags me to the edge of the bed, even as I grab for the sheets.
“No!” I scream, even though it's useless. “Don't you even fucking think about it!”
“Adrienne, don't be difficult,” he says, straining as he fights me.
“I'll do whatever you want!” I scream. I shove at his hands but I can't budge him. “I'll go wherever you want! Don't do it!”
“Trust me.” He glances around and catches the eye of one of the nearby men. “You. Hold her legs.” I shoot a desperate look at the man but he doesn't look back. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually he sets down the box he's holding and does as he's told. As soon as his hands touch me, I know it's all over but I can't stop fighting.
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