Frankenstein In Love
Page 14
When it came time to go down, she stepped out of her bedroom and approached the stairs. Coming to the first step, she stopped abruptly. She saw Quinn relaxing against the banister, and gazing up at her very arrogantly with his foot propped on the first step. She gradually began descending the wide staircase, aware of his eyes drinking in her every movement.
When she got to the last step, he moved in front of her, barring her way. Without saying anything she made a move to pass him, but he stepped up, put his hand on her waist and buried his face in her neck. She could feel him begin to draw erotically on her flesh, but she remained cold to his touch—unmoved—and smoothly pulled herself away.
Quinn turned and grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him. She could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered, “Tonight?”
“You snake,” she rasped, jerking her arm out of his. “You think because of what you heard that I’m going to fall in your arms? Well, if I were you I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Just before turning away from him, she added sarcastically, “Besides, what would Venita think?”
“Venita be damned,” he snarled. “I want a woman, not a baby.”
“Well, there are millions out there, you bastard, take your pick.”
The two of them made a grand entrance into the library, staring daggers at each other. When Dr. Wilder saw Tiffany, he stood up, the expression on his face very appreciative.
Quinn took Tiffany’s arm possessively. “Dr. Wilder, may I present Tiffany Lovelace?” Turning to Tiffany, he said, “Tiffany, Dr. Vincent Wilder.”
Tiffany searched his handsome, movie star face. His hair was sandy-blond, but so light on top it was almost white. With his hair long, he reminded Tiffany of a blond musketeer, with the same cavalier manner. All that was missing was the cape and the sword. She could see him swinging from a rafter, rescuing the maiden fair. Elaine had picked well.
Dr. Wilder extended his hand and took Tiffany’s, bringing it lightly to his lips. “I’ve been looking forward to this evening, Ms. Lovelace.”
Tiffany smiled, noting the strange mixture of blue and green in his eyes. “The pleasure is mine.”
The doctor pulled a card out of his pocket and gave it to Tiffany. “Not that you need it, but if you know of someone else in need of my services, this is the address of my office, and my number.”
Tiffany took the card, but when she read it her gaze widened. Summer sparklers, firecrackers, and skyrockets exploded in her head all at the same time. Was it possible? Could she be so lucky? She couldn’t let this pass by. Just once more, she decided. One more time before giving up and leaving for good.
Quinn spoke up, bringing her back to reality. “Tiffany, may I fix you a drink before we go in to dinner?”
“N-no, thank you. Uh…if…if you’ll excuse me I have something to take care of before dinner.”
“Of course,” the two men said simultaneously.
Once out of the library, Tiffany ran up the stairs to her room. Wasting no time, she burst in, and found the gray box with the words Stage Door superimposed over two masks, one crying, the other laughing, and grabbed it. Turning around, she took the box and ran back downstairs to the basement. When she arrived at the square chamber her gaze traveled past the barred door to the darkness that was always there.
“Kirk, are you in there?”
No answer, but Tiffany could hear him breathing. “Kirk, please answer me. I know you’re there.”
*
Kirk jerked forward on his bed, but he stayed silent. The sound of her voice made his insides jump. He wanted to run to her, to kneel, to ask her forgiveness.
But he couldn’t.
He wanted to take her in his arms and beg her not to leave, to cry like a baby.
But he couldn’t.
His pride, his fucking pride wouldn’t let him. Even though his insides were churning at the sound of her voice, and he felt a longing deep inside him, he couldn’t. Instead, he heard the words of love he should be saying coming out completely different. “Go away, Tiffany,” he rasped.
“Open the door, I have something for you.”
“Is it the same thing you had for me the last time you were here?”
“I want to talk to you about that.”
He hesitated, wanting to pull her to him, take her in his arms, but still he found his mouth saying words he didn’t want to say. “Why in hell don’t you give it up, Tiffany? I don’t want you down here. Do you hear that? I don’t want you!”
“I can’t believe that. The way you kissed me, the way you touched me. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t care about your face. You’re the only one that has a problem with it, not me.”
He ran up to the bars so fast, Tiffany jumped. “Tiffany, don’t you see? If I let myself, I would be on my knees to you. I’ve got to have some pride, damn it, I’m not stupid. With this face, no woman would want me. It’s horrible, we both know that. How could it not turn you away?”
Tiffany reached through the bars, fondling each ragged scar. “Because I know what’s behind it. Besides, it’s not that bad. I think it can be fixed if you would just try.”
“But what if it can’t? It would just be more disappointment.”
“But what if it can? You’ve wasted ten years of your life in this prison, do you want to waste ten more? Kirk, isn’t it worth finding out?”
“Yeah,” he said sadly, “then I can kill myself and know it’s okay.”
“Don’t ever talk that way.”
Kirk indicated to the box. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I almost forgot. It’s something for you. Would you let me in?”
He unbolted the door and swung it open for her. She went in and immediately walked over to his bed. Opening the box, she took the mask out and turned to him. “Try this on.”
“You want me to dress up like the phantom of the opera?”
“I couldn’t just buy the mask, I had to buy the whole costume, or nothing.”
“You should have settled for nothing, Tiffany, there’s no way I’m wearing that thing.”
“Kirk, only the mask. You don’t have to put the whole thing on.”
He frowned down at the mask. “That thing would drive me crazy.”
“You don’t have to wear it when you’re alone, just when you have to be around other people.”
“Tiffany, I don’t know.”
“It’s no different than a man wearing a patch over his eye. Besides, it’ll make you sort of mysterious.” She winked. “You know, glamorous.”
“Sure, until I take it off.”
“Okay, so don’t take it off. Wear it. Don’t you see? This is the answer to your problem.”
“Are you feeding me a bunch of bull, like Quinn says?”
“Kirk, the first thing you need to remember is not to listen to Quinn. He’s the monster, not you. Now put it on and let’s go upstairs.”
“What? Upstairs? What’s upstairs?”
“There’s a dinner party going on.”
“No way in hell, Tiffany.”
“Come on, give it a try. It’ll be a test to see how well the mask works both for you and others. Besides, it’s only Elaine’s boss, Dr. Vincent Wilder.”
“I can’t, Tiffany.”
“Kirk, try, for God’s sake. Don’t stay in this musty old dungeon all your life. You’ll be pronouncing doom on yourself. If it has to be, let it come from somewhere else. Don’t you do it to yourself.”
“I just can’t,” Kirk said, flinging the mask to the floor and turning his back on her.
“All right…well…I-I’ll say goodbye. I won’t bother you again.”
He whirled around, his gaze darting between Tiffany walking away from him and the mask that lay on the floor. He could hear the sound of her heels clicking on the cement, their crisp click getting softer and softer until the door clanged shut behind her. It sounded so final—as if the loud clang was sealing him forever in his tomb. He
sat down on his bed, putting his hands to his ears, but he could still hear the clang of the door over and over again. Clang! Clang! Clang!
* * * *
Tiffany re-joined those in the parlor. As she stood at the window with tears in her eyes, she once again began making plans to leave. Kirk had made it plain that he was determined to suffer the rest of his life for his parents’ death, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Quinn had won.
The dinner party had gotten well underway, and in the midst of laughter and several voices all talking at once, the door burst open. Everyone stopped and looked around at the tall, dark, mysterious figure looming in the shadow of the doorframe. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, a tie—and a mask!
When Tiffany saw Kirk, her mouth dropped open, and her breath stopped. She finally came out of her shock and immediately stepped away from the window and grabbed Kirk’s arm. Leading him in, she said with pride in her voice, “Dr. Wilder, I would like you to meet Quinn’s brother Kirk Kessler.” Smiling at Kirk, she said, “Kirk, this is Dr. Vincent Wilder.” They shook hands, and the doctor took him off to one side, hopefully discussing what was under his mask. It seems that Elaine had failed to mention that her new job was that of an assistant to—a plastic surgeon!
Chapter 13
AS soon as Tiffany could manage, she pulled Elaine aside. “My God, Elaine, this man is your boss, and Kirk hasn’t even been in to see him? Why?”
“Because he’s a stubborn jackass. I’ve tried, Tiffany, over and over, but he won’t budge. He won’t even let Dr. Wilder do a simple examination of his face.”
“What the hell is he thinking? The answer to his problem lands right in his lap, and he won’t take advantage of it.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, with determination. “Leave it to me. I’ll get him there.”
“Good luck.”
Tiffany caught up with Kirk again and hung on his arm for the rest of the night. She could tell that Kirk was trying hard to fit in. At first he was shy, stilted, and wouldn’t seem to let himself relax, but as the evening went on, Tiffany managed to put him at ease. They laughed together while enjoying themselves, which put Tiffany on cloud nine.
When Quinn finally managed to get Tiffany alone, he grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. “I won’t have you flaunting Kirk in my face. I know what you’re doing, you little bitch. You’re playing up to the freak to make me jealous.”
“That’s a lie.”
“What is it, Tiffany? What in hell could you possibly see in that monster? It couldn’t be his good looks.”
“I see a tenderness you wouldn’t understand. I see kindness, sensitivity, compassion, and caring.”
He pulled her to him. “You forgot to mention this.” He immediately crushed her against him, his lips bruising hers.
Tiffany struggled, finally getting free, but too late. She glimpsed Kirk—watching her.
Quinn saw her gaze and followed it. When he saw Kirk he stepped forward, confronting him while straightening his clothes. “Kirk, you had to find out. It’s me she loves. She never cared for you. She was only taking pity on a poor pitiful creature she wanted to help.”
“You bastard!” Tiffany cried out to Quinn. “That’s a lie and you know it!” She turned to Kirk. “It’s not true, Kirk. Don’t listen.”
“I only want to know one thing,” Kirk rasped with whispered emotion. “Have you been in his bed?”
“No, Kirk, I’d never—”
“Kirk,” Quinn interjected over Tiffany’s denial. “Surely you’re not going to believe her. My God, after what you’ve just seen?”
Kirk slid his eyes back at her, pain filling them. He abruptly reached up, ripped the mask from his face and threw it at her feet, his scarred face exposed.
Tiffany stared down at the mask, tears pushing uncontrollably against her lids. When she looked up, it was just in time to see Kirk slink back into his darkness.
Tiffany immediately whirled to face Quinn. “You dirty, black-hearted son of a bitch. With your lies, you’ve probably damaged any relationship I might have had with Kirk. Why can’t you get it through your head that I wouldn’t have you if you were dipped in gold, and covered with diamonds? I’d sooner curl up with a snake.”
“My God, Tiffany, what is it about that ugly Frankenstein that fascinates you so?” Quinn waved toward the place where Kirk had been standing. “Why can’t you just leave the poor wretch to his bell tower? He’s nothing. No more than an insect that lives under the stairs.” Quinn reached for her, pulling her to him. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you away from this miserable mansion and we can go anywhere you want. Paris, Rome, just name it, Tiffany.”
She pulled away. “I’d sooner go away with Jack the Ripper.”
Quinn frowned, becoming curious. “You keep mentioning dangerous things like snakes, Jack the Ripper, and you seem fascinated by a monster living in a basement. What are you trying to tell me, Tiffany? That you like it dark and mysterious? Well, darling, why didn’t you say so? I can wear a mask for you. I can play the poor bedeviled creature living in a dungeon.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I’ll even let you be on top.”
She stiffened and slapped his face.
Putting his hand to his face, he said huskily, “I see you like it rough too. That’s okay. If rough is what you want, rough it’ll be. But before you say no again, think about how good it can be, Tiffany. Think about me, and you…together.”
“Oh, I’ll think of you, Quinn. Every time I see a cockroach crawl across the floor, or open the door below the sink and see a stinking rat running for cover.” She squinted with hate as she glared at him. “And every time I crush that cockroach under my foot or poison that low-down stinking rat, it’ll be you that I’m doing it to.”
Hearing her response, Quinn exploded. “Well, if I can’t have your love, bitch, I’ll take your hate. Because there’s one thing you won’t do. You won’t ignore me like you’ve been doing all evening. I won’t allow it.”
All at once movement at the top of the stairs caught Tiffany’s eye. She glanced up and saw Venita all decked out in a brief little teddy. “Quinn,” she said sarcastically, “what are you doing here with me? Venita’s waiting.”
Later on that evening Tiffany just happened to be opening her door and saw Venita leaving Quinn’s room. She stepped back, but not before she noticed that how disheveled she was in her short, thin little robe with her teddy clutched in her hand. Tiffany watched her for a moment, something bothering her about the girl.
* * * *
When Tiffany got out of bed the next day, she knew this was the day she had planned to leave, but every time she started filling the suitcase her mind would begin to wander back over the events of the night before. At the things Kirk had said and done. She’d been so close. He’d come out of his lair, laughed, enjoyed himself. For the first time she’d seen him in a normal setting. Listened to him talk, joke. Watched him around other people, even wink at her flirtatiously, or lift his glass in a toast. His charm was lethal, his deep, southern accent enchanting. For the first time he hadn’t been on guard, defensive or suspicious, but really seemed to be enjoying himself. She’d been so proud of him. He’d made a giant step forward in coming out of his lair—only to slink back into it.
Quinn had struck again.
She still hadn’t finished packing when she went down to breakfast. While Venita served, Tiffany watched her, noticing the way the girl moved. While serving Quinn she brushed up against him, made sure he saw her cleavage, and made suggestive eye contact with him. It was subtle, but very clear what was happening. Tiffany realized Venita had been seducing Quinn since the first day she got there. Apparently the teenager wasn’t as innocent as everyone had thought. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Later that morning, Tiffany caught Venita in the study. She walked in and made sure she closed the door behind her, leaned back on it, and watched Venita.
When Tiffany read it, she understood. “Quinn is paying you?”
When the girl nodded, Tiffany couldn’t believe it. He had employed his own personal little whore. “So why do you flirt with him? If he’s paying you to sleep with him, why do you have to do all that?”
The girl began writing. He told me to. He says a man likes to be seduced.
“He does, does he?” she said thoughtfully, and studied Venita closely. She noticed her low neckline, her short shorts, and her bare feet and knew no woman dressed like that unless it was an ongoing seduction. And Venita had been dressing like that since day one. Yes, she understood now. She understood a lot, but one thing bothered her. Her gaze lowered toward her feet. “Why no shoes?”
Her hand raced over the blackboard before she held it up. He likes his women barefoot.
As an idea formed in Tiffany’s mind. She smiled at Venita and said, “Thanks.”
Venita nodded and went back to her work, and Tiffany opened the door and slipped out.
Tiffany was still lost in thought when Elaine met her at the foot of the stairs. “Tiffany, I know you’re probably in the middle of packing to leave, but do you mind taking Kirk’s tray down this morning? I’m a little behind schedule, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t ask, but…”
While Elaine was speaking, her own thoughts were whirling around in her head like a tiny tornado. Finally managing to open her mouth, she said, “Elaine, do you think I could put that off a few days?”
“What, leaving?”
“Yes.”
Elaine eagerly responded. “Of course. What happened?”