“Wolves don’t live in the city. They belong in the wild, just like my family, Miss Brewster.” He attempted a commanding tone. “My forefathers were rough men. They were tough enough to call the Alps ‘home’.”
“I’m sorry.” Marianne uttered, rolling her gaze down his face. “I meant no disrespect.”
“I wasn’t offended.” Dominic made his voice sound friendlier. “I was just clearing something up. What do you like about the city, Miss Brewster: the noise; the traffic; or is it the foul smells?”
“It’s just a little more human, that’s all.” She shrugged, as her eyes shot up to meet his gaze.
“I’m the one who needs to apologize.” He spoke, a touch of sadness in his voice as the leaping flames reflected off her eyes. “You’re exhausted and I’m giving you a lecture about my ancestors.”
“No, don’t mention it.” Marianne smiled, waving her hand in front of her face. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about them. It’s just a little strange for someone to want to live in the middle of God knows where, you know?”
“Like I said, not for me,” Dominic muttered, as his full lips curled into a gentle smile. “Anyway, you should go get some rest. My housekeeper Josephine will show you to your room. Before you go, I need to ask you something.”
“Please do.” She nodded.
“My friend Jean says you’re an author. Melanie, his fiancée, loves your book. Why were the sales so bad?” His question froze the smile on her face. Marianne’s eyes darkened, as she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“I’d rather not answer that,” she said, her voice faint as she rose from her seat. “I’ll see you later.”
Dominic would have loved to insist, yet he was so stunned by her reaction that he could not force another word out of his throat. He watched, as Marianne turned around and headed towards the front door. Her slow pace was something else that puzzled him even more. She practically dragged her feet across the floor, the click-clacking of her heels echoing back at the walls of the hall. It was as if his words had reminded her of a very painful moment, one that hurt her too much to discuss.
Now, what the hell was that all about?” He thought to himself. “A few minutes ago, she was walking proud. Now, all I see is a battered dog with her tail tucked in between her legs. What happened to you, Marianne? Why did you look so sad? I need to ask Melanie about this.
3
With a heavy heart, Marianne joined Dominic’s housekeeper in the main building. This time though, she was too distraught to pay any attention to the numerous paintings on the walls. She asked to be led to her bedroom and remained silent. Josephine spoke to her about her quarters, but her words passed by Marianne unheard. The immense size of her bedroom and the red, silken curtains were not enough to bring a smile to her face. She kicked her shoes away and lay in bed, breathing in sighs. By now, only one thing could make her feel better: A conversation with Kate Weston, her closest friend. New York was six hours behind; Marianne would most likely wake her up, but, in the hope that talking to her would make her feel better, she did not hesitate.
“Hello?” Kate answered her phone in a deep, hoarse voice.
“Hi, sweetheart; it’s me. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“How do I sound? It’s 5:15 for God’s sake!”
“I’m sorry, Katy,” Marianne sighed. “I just had to talk to someone.”
“Forget it. How was your trip?”
“My trip was fine. Things got very interesting when I met him.”
“Does he look as gorgeous as in his pictures?”
“Actually, he looks even better.” A small smile formed on Marianne’s face. “He’s young, he’s very tall: 6’3” easy. He’s got short, brown hair, deep-green eyes, pointy face, and a well-trimmed beard.”
“Okay, you lost me there.” Kate complained. “If the guy’s that hot, why are you so sad?”
“Because he asked me about the book,” Marianne’s voice lowered to a soft, raw whisper. “I was too shocked to talk about it. He must be really mad at me right now.”
“How does he even know about that?”
“Does it matter? It brought back ugly memories.”
“Alright, take it easy.” Kate suggested. “You’ll be staying there for a week. You realize you’ll have to tell him, eventually.”
“It gets worse. Remember Melanie? I’ll see her, too. What should I do about her?”
“Just be honest with them, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m proud of you.”
“Some people don’t see it that way, including me.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Kate yelled, forcing her friend to pull her cell phone away from her ear. “Look, just do what I said, okay? I’ll call you later.”
“Bye.”
Marianne tossed her cell phone across the massive bed and closed her eyes, just before a knock on the door grabbed her attention.
“Come in.” She spoke in lazy tones, expecting to hear the maid’s funny accent. However, she heard no voices at all. The sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden floor filled her ears, forcing her eyes to snap open. It was Dominic, with a contrite look on his face, as he moved around her bed. He did not speak. Instead, he offered her his hand.
“I’m so sorry about before.” Marianne said, her voice trembling as he looked deep into her eyes. Once again, he did not speak. He took her hand into his and pulled her up. Then, he turned his head to the right and fixed his gaze on the window in the corner. He led her there, moved around her and pulled it up.
“I’m not going to ask why you got so upset.” He spoke in a gentle voice, turning to her. “I just want you to see this. That’s what I do, whenever I feel blue.”
Intrigued, Marianne took a hesitant step closer and looked out the window in question. The sight that greeted her gave her a reason to smile. There was a vast, snowy, fir tree forest on the mountain slope, very close to the estate. She could even see the raindrops, dripping off the edges of the branches, as the hard rain pelted down around the tall trees.
“You came up here, just to show me that?” She pointed at the view.
“What if I did?” He shrugged, taking hold of her hand again, as he turned his head to the left to face her. “The last thing I want to see is hurt in people’s eyes, especially when they’re as beautiful as yours.”
“Thank you.” Marianne whispered, as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “It’s beautiful out there.”
“This is why I love the wild.” Dominic continued, raising his other hand to her face. Cupping her cheek, he leaned over her and closed his eyes. He laid a tender kiss on her face, caressing her wrist, as she gripped his hand tighter. “It always comforts me somehow.” He whispered, slowly leaning back.
“You just…”
“… Kissed you,” he finished her sentence. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I didn’t mean the kiss.” She let out a short laugh. “You just made me feel better.”
“That’s good to know.” Dominic gave an appreciative nod. “Look, I don’t know why you freaked out on me like that. I’d really like to know more about that book of yours, though. Not the sales part; just what it’s about.”
“Well…” Marianne sucked in a deep breath. “The dream it’s referring to is every girl’s ‘perfect man’. I’m just describing a few ways to grab and hold on to that dream. It’s based on a few friends’ life experience and my own. It took me two years to finish it. It was well-received and for a moment, I thought it would do really great.”
“Then came the part you don’t want to talk about.” Dominic interjected, as a bitter smile formed on Marianne’s face. “I’m not going to force the issue. Get some sleep. I promise not to bring it up anymore while you’re here. I’ll see you later tonight.”
Upon finishing his statement, he stroked her cheek one last time and then released her hand. A sigh of frustration escaped her, as he left her room. Shutting her eyes, Marianne hit her forehead with the palm of her hand.
&nb
sp; I’m officially blown away. You’re full of surprises, Dominic. I can’t think of one person who would do what you just did for a total stranger like me. You were so sweet… and I’ve just missed a great chance to kiss you.
4
The sad look in Marianne’s eyes troubled Dominic. Curiously, it had one more effect on him that he didn’t expect. As soon as he found himself in the corridor, he was filled with an uncontrollable urge to draw those eyes. His canvases and his palette beckoned. For the first time in a while, his inspiration was a total outsider. Without much thought, he quickly climbed the stairs to his attic, desperate to capture, in lead and paint, those almond-shaped, hazel eyes.
I didn’t like what I saw; but I think that devastated look would make a great painting. It’s funny how sadness can bring out the best in people. Poets, songwriters, composers, painters… we all need the pain. We can’t create without it. Now’s not the time for philosophy, Dominic. Do it. I doubt she’ll want to remember that look, but I can’t help it.
Dominic picked up a pencil from his desk and began to draw the outline of her doleful face. Minute after minute, Marianne’s expression came into life: her chiseled jawline, her high cheekbones, her small nose and the few strands of her hair in her face. He could feel his heart beating like a drum, as he drew her curly eyelashes. Dominic clenched his jaw, as he recalled the tears that were about to topple over the edge of her eyes.
“This might be a little tricky.” He said to himself, as he moved on to truly capturing the moment.
“It’s very nice.” A familiar, high-pitched voice with a strong accent filled his ears. It was none other than Melanie Chantal, Jean’s fiancée. “Who is she? Do I know her?”
“Quite well, actually,” Dominic replied, looking down at her over his left shoulder. “Come closer.”
“Is that…? Oh, Mon Dieu,” Melanie whispered, as she obliged. “That’s Marianne! She’s here? What did you do to her?”
“I’ve drawn her. I’ve painted her.” Dominic’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “She arrived this morning.”
“This is not funny, Dominic. Why is she about to cry?” She raised her voice.
“I was hoping you could shed some light on that.” He sighed, tossing his brush across his desk behind him. “I just mentioned that her book hadn’t sold that well and she ditched me.”
“I have no idea,” Melanie claimed, solemnly. “Where is she?”
“I’m guessing she’s still sleeping,” Dominic muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets, as his lazy footsteps brought him closer to the small window of his attic. Daylight was slowly fading away. The rain had not let up one bit. If anything, it was even stronger. The evening sky was occasionally lit up with a bright flash of lightning. As he looked down at his rose garden, Dominic noticed a feminine figure. She had a purple umbrella in her hands. Just before she stepped into the garden, he caught a glimpse of her black heels. He could make no mistake. It was Marianne.
“Excuse me…” he murmured, as he turned around. Dominic brushed past Melanie, as he sprinted across his attic. Desperate to let her know about his painting, he rushed down the stairs, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. A blinding streak of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder ripped through the air, as he pulled his massive, front door open. Dominic rushed outside. The rain soaked his hair and his face, as he closed the distance between himself and Marianne. His loud, hurried footsteps grabbed her attention, well before he reached her. Marianne turned around to face him, as he brushed past the first, red rose tree. By that time, his white shirt was so drenched that it stuck to his body.
“Jesus Christ, Dominic!” She exclaimed, as their eyes met. “What are you doing out here?”
“Well…” he gasped, his chest rising up and down, as the vaporous air from his exhalations clouded his vision. “I came here to tell you that your face will stay here, long after you leave.”
“What are you talking about? How?” she asked, surprise written all over her face.
“I memorialized it. I memorized it,” Dominic confessed, as raindrops rolled off his cheeks. “Every single line of it; I could even remember your tears. I painted your face, Marianne.”
A gasp of surprise left her lips, as her umbrella slipped through her fingers. He bent his head down towards her, watching as a few raindrops landed on her forehead. Wrapping his left arm around her back, he raised his other hand to her face, as she circled her arms around his neck. Dominic pulled her closer, as their lips locked in a long, gentle kiss. Yet another bright flash of lightning and an even louder crack of thunder filled his ears, as he caressed her face. With Marianne’s warm breath on his soaked skin, he stroked her back, feeling more and more raindrops streaming down his forehead and his cheeks. She slid her hands down the back of his neck, as his grip around her grew tighter. Running his thumb across her cheekbone, Dominic felt the cold water on his fingertips. He pressed his forehead against hers, as his hand slipped up into her hair. Threading his fingers through it, he planted a short kiss on her chin and leaned back, opening his eyes.
“God…” Marianne said, her voice a soft, breathless whisper, as she gently shook her head. “You painted me?”
“Yeah,” he admitted with a small smile on his face as their gazes met. “Memories can always fade. I wanted to remember that moment exactly as it was.”
“What are you, Dominic?” She wondered, running her hand up his neck. “A king; an artist? What…?”
“I’m just a man.” Her questions widened his smile.
“You’re freezing.” Marianne remarked, staring at his blue lips. “We need to get back inside.”
Dominic was about to speak, but then, he heard Melanie’s squeaky voice and a long, cheerful applause.
“Tres bien!” She cried, sticking her face out the window. “Come on! Dominic, bring my friend in, before you guys catch a cold!”
5
By the time Dominic and Marianne returned to his hall, Melanie was already downstairs. After a warm, cordial welcome, she took her friend upstairs. Dominic’s heart was still racing. He could still taste her lips in his mouth; yet, the stiff look on Jean’s face did not allow him to savor the moment. As soon as he laid his eyes on him, Jean ran both hands through his hair and turned his attention to the fireplace. Predictably, his reaction did not go down well with Dominic. Too happy to bother though, he chose to keep his mouth shut and join his friend by the fireplace.
“Good evening, Jean.” He said with a grin. “How’s every…”
“Childish…” Jean groaned, staring at the roaring fire. “You are always so childish. Sometimes, I think I’m dealing with a thirty-year old child.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Dominic smirked. “What’s up?”
“Melanie told me about the painting.” Jean spoke in a softer voice. “You seem to be missing the point here. That girl is here to interview you, not to become your mistress; not to mention that this situation feels painfully familiar.”
“I’m not expecting you to understand, my friend.” Dominic strove for a more serious tone. “I did what I thought was right.”
“What happened the last time you did something similar, Dominic?” Jean turned to him, furrowing his brow. “Do you remember? I know I can’t forget.”
“Of course I remember.” “Dominic sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor as his eyes darkened with sorrow. “Look, why are you acting like this? Is there a law against having fun or something?”
“Think Dominic …with a reporter?” Jean’s angry voice resounded through the hall, as he jumped from his seat. “What if she writes about this? What if she tells the whole world about how impulsive you are? What if…”
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Dominic raised his hand at chest height. “Slow down, will you? You worry too much. What is she going to do? Write that the king drew her portrait? So what if I did?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t understand.” Jean spoke, his tone much lower than before. “I’m
only looking out for you: she’s a reporter, Dominic; she’s young; ambitious; she could write just about anything.”
“She won’t.” Dominic assured, shaking his head sideways. “I’ll ask her not to, okay?”
“Be very careful,” Jean advised. “The interview hasn’t started yet, has it?”
“No,” Dominic was quick to respond. “She’s still a little jetlagged, I’m afraid.”
“Choose your answers wisely.” Jean advised. “Anyway, I promised Melanie I would take her out for dinner tonight. I will call you tomorrow.”
“Dominic; you are a naughty boy.” Melanie interjected, climbing down the stairs. “Do you always kiss your guests just after you’ve met them?”
“You kissed her?” Jean squinted at him.
“I saw the two lovebirds in the garden.” Melanie added, a perceptive smile on her face, as she walked up to them. “The poor girl was shivering. She had to change clothes.”
“I don’t think I need to say more.” Jean spoke, his tone firm. “You’re a grown man. Act like one.”
“Dominic, please do me a favor.” Melanie went on, her tone calm as she looked up at him. “Marianne is very special to me. Treat her right, please.”
“Why don’t you tell me more about her?” He requested, unaffected by his friend’s comments. “What’s she like?”
“She’s one of the most talented people I’ve ever known.” Melanie replied, slipping her hand into her purse. “She’s written much more than that book I keep babbling on about. She was kind enough to send me some of her manuscripts: here,” she said, handing him over a worn, thick envelope. “I really wanted to discuss them with her tonight, but she looks a little too tired and I need to go. Goodnight.”
“Thank you. Goodnight, guys,” Dominic said with a nod.
The night has closed in on me. It’s the first night without you, the man I’ve been in love with since I was a little girl. To make matters worse, it’s snowing. Just recalling all the times we’ve played in the snow brings tears to my eyes, Tommy. You would chase me, I would chase you and we would end up lying in the thick snow, laughing so hard… And then, you would take me in your arms and kiss me. God… It’s only been a few hours since we broke up and I miss you already. But, how can I not miss you, baby? Eight years is a long time. I thought we had built a strong, real relationship. So did you. You sang that song so proudly… You looked me in the eye and said: ‘We built this house on rock’. We were both hopelessly wrong…
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 192