by Zoey Draven
She scurried around him, part of her arm hitting his chest as she attempted to finish securing the bun on her head. Her throat felt tight. Her face felt hot.
Valerie heard his sharp exhale followed by his murmured curse.
It mortified her when she felt her eyes begin to sting, when her vision went blurry with her sudden tears. Every part of her longed to flee. To race through her door and run upstairs…to another place she’d be trapped. Then again, she’d been trapped in some way or another all her life. From poverty on Genesis, to her mother’s sickness and watching her slowly die because they were too poor to get her help, to Everton where she had to rely on her aunt to stay fed and housed.
And her future?
Marriage. Trapped again. Chained and trapped.
Her heart was racing in her chest and when she swiped at the tears spilling down her face, she found her hands were trembling.
“Did it…” she whispered, suddenly more saddened than angry. She cleared her throat, staring at the door, feeling his heat close to her back. “Did it really mean that little to you?”
She didn’t know what possessed her to ask. Maybe because she was tired of beating around the bush with Dravka—for five years now—or maybe because she realized he would be gone soon. Maybe she realized that for once, she wanted straight, honest answers from him. Then she’d know if she had made up the last five years in her mind or not.
“Did it mean anything at all?” she continued, turning around slowly to face Dravka. His brow bone was furrowed when she looked at him. And his expression was thunderous, but at least he wasn’t giving her that amused smile anymore. “Or was it just because you were drunk and…I was there?”
The anger that stole over his face was enough to steal her breath.
“Do you really think that little of me?” he asked quietly.
“What am I supposed to think?” she whispered, dashing away more tears. “You come here now and it’s like you’re amused about the whole thing.”
“And what am I supposed to think, Val?” he asked, running a hand over his smooth scalp. “You ran away that night and avoided me for two days. I was beginning to think it was you who wanted to forget that kiss ever happened. Or that you regretted it. Or you were ashamed of it.”
Valerie’s eyes went wide. Her mouth opened, closed, opened—but no sound came out.
“I don’t regret it,” Dravka said after a lengthy silence, his voice soft yet deep.
His words seemed to echo around that small space, bouncing off the walls until they were all she could hear. He took one, two, three steps closer until Valerie had to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
“You don’t?” she questioned.
“Veki,” he murmured down to her. “I remember every moment.”
A soft exhale escaped her.
“The only thing I regret,” he started and she tensed slightly, “is that we kissed for the first time when I’d been drinking. I should have kissed you long before that. Because it was a long time in the making, don’t you think, mellkia?”
Valerie imagined that the expression on her face was part bewildered, part dazed, part wary, part elated. But when Dravka’s hand came to cup the side of her throat, a small breathy gasp escaped her, her nipples pebbling hard underneath the dress she’d slipped on.
Then that hand slid up to her cheek, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, his eyes going to them. She watched his eyes flare and a muscle tic in his strong jaw.
When he spoke again, his voice was huskier, gruffer. “Which is what I came down here to rectify when I saw you’d returned.”
“What?” she whispered.
A million voices were screaming in her mind why it wasn’t a good idea to be alone with him right now, down in her basement room, when he was looking at her like this, and talking to her like this.
Dravka didn’t answer her. Not at first. Instead, he stepped into her, dropping his head down while guiding her face up.
A hushed quiet descended over them when his lips met hers. Another kiss. Only this time, he didn’t have the taste of brandy on his tongue. Only Dravka.
A shuddering sigh left her. As for all those voices inside her head ringing warning bells, she silenced them. Against her better judgment, her hands gripped his shirt to keep him in place…and she kissed him back, moving her lips with his.
Dravka made a rough sound in the back of his throat when she pressed closer. His tongue met hers and he worked it expertly against her, drawing little sounds from her throat, building up heat in her belly. His palm left her cheek and then his arms were around her, pulling her closer, as Valerie’s head swam.
“This is how I wanted to kiss you for the first time, Val,” he rasped against her lips. “Just like this.”
“Dravka,” she whispered, her hands sliding down his chest, taking liberties she’d never allowed herself before. Because she knew they had little time left? Perhaps.
His hands gripped her harder and she felt his length pressed to her belly, thick and impressive. Dravka groaned, biting out something in Keriv’i when she brought their bodies even closer.
She felt his two hearts throbbing endlessly. She heard her own blood rushing in her ears. She heard the gentle whisper of clothing across flesh. She heard the rough rasp of his hands against her as they slid down and down.
Which was perhaps why she didn’t hear the clicking of high heels down the corridor in the basement. Which was perhaps why when the door to her room opened, it was already too late.
“How darling,” drawled a familiar voice.
With a ragged gasp, Valerie broke away from Dravka, jerking her head to the door.
Madame Allegria stood there, dressed in a floor-length, silky black dress that molded to her ample curves. Her painted red lips—that had always resembled the color of blood in Valerie’s mind—were curved in a mocking kind of smile, though there was a sharp, icy glint in her gaze when she saw Dravka’s hands curled around her hips.
Valerie pushed at Dravka’s chest until he reluctantly released her.
“You’re back,” Valerie said, as if it weren’t obvious. Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.
“And you’ve been playing while I’ve been away, Niece,” her aunt taunted, her eyes returned to Dravka’s, before trailing down his body with a possessive, knowing gaze that made Valerie’s stomach churn.
Valerie stepped in front of him, forcing her aunt to look at her instead.
Madame Allegria smiled again as she assessed her kiss-reddened lips, widened eyes, and heaving chest.
She tossed something at Valerie, something encased in velvet and on a silk hanger. A dress of some kind. She managed to snag it, just keeping it from falling on the floor.
“Get dressed and make yourself presentable,” her aunt said, her eyes narrowing. Her gaze flicked up to Dravka behind her, that smile turning mocking, and then said, “We have a dinner with your fiancé and your future in-laws tonight.”
Behind her, Dravka stiffened, a harsh breath escaping him.
“I’ve done you a favor and cancelled all the clients for tonight since you won’t be here to receive them,” Madame Allegria went on, which surprised Valerie. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
Valerie didn’t say a word, only stared across the short distance between them, her hands clutching the dress harder.
“Be upstairs in twenty minutes,” Madame Allegria said, her voice hardening. “You don’t want to keep Gabriel waiting.”
Chapter Thirteen
“What’s the use for a long engagement?” Derek Larchmont’s voice boomed around the dining room. It was grand and tastefully furnished with Old World pieces Valerie knew must’ve cost a fortune.
Plush red velvet dining chairs. The long and flawless stretch of a mahogany wood table with gold inlaid beneath the silky varnish. It could easily seat twenty people, though only five were in attendance that night. Another shimmering chandelier dangled over the wood and Valerie wondered what would h
appen if it crashed down onto the table, breaking dishes filled with rich food and thick gravies.
Derek Larchmont’s wide smile and his twinkling blue eyes came to Valerie. “This is an arranged marriage, after all. In our circle, they are expected. There is no shame in getting married soon. We can wait for summer, in a few weeks’ time, since it will be more fashionable.”
“Dear,” Celine cut in, placing a palm on her husband’s forearm. “I think you underestimate how much time goes into planning a wedding. There are expectations. An event of the season, you see? We are Larchmonts. We mustn’t disappoint.”
Celine’s lips twisted a bit as she said those last few words, her eyes coming to Madame Allegria briefly before dropping away.
The beautiful blonde was seated next to her husband at the dining table. Valerie was across from her, Madame Allegria was to Valerie’s right, and Gabriel Larchmont, her intended husband, was seated next to her aunt. It was a small reprieve that Valerie had no reason to look down the table at him and she did her best to not meet his gaze too often.
Valerie swallowed and she reached for her glass of wine to soothe her suddenly dry throat.
“I think a quick wedding is ideal,” her aunt cut in, leaning back in her seat slightly, baring a glimpse of cleavage from her plunging neckline. “This is a matter of business, Celine. You said yourself Gabriel cannot claim his share of the company until he is married. You have a busy import season coming up, do you not?”
Valerie took another sip of wine before setting her glass down on the table. She’d barely opened her mouth once. Only to eat, though the food tasted like ash on her tongue. Which was fine because her shimmering teal dress was so tight across her abdomen that eating a lot was simply not possible.
“I agree,” Gabriel chimed in, though he smiled at his mother. He leaned forward, his eyes catching on Valerie, and he winked. “Can you blame me for wanting a quick wedding? Just look at my bride.”
The flush that bloomed across Valerie’s neck and cheeks had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the fact that her gut was churning.
Celine was outnumbered. She seemed to realize that and pasted on a small smile, reaching for her wine. She’d already drained three glasses at the dinner table and motioned for more to the server lingering at the door.
“Of course, my dear,” she said quietly. “Whatever you want.”
Gabriel leaned back. Out of the corner of her eye, Valerie saw motion in Madame Allegria’s lap.
Her ears started ringing when she saw Gabriel’s fingers slide up the slit in her aunt’s black dress…and then his hand disappeared between her thighs.
Madame Allegria shifted, ever so slightly, a small smirk playing over her lips as she regarded Celine across the table. Gabriel’s fingers moved underneath the silky material of the dress.
Valerie jerked her head forward, more nausea rising in her belly.
Her aunt and Gabriel were sleeping together. Was that how she’d gotten Gabriel to go along with marrying her? Just another of her twisted mind games?
Of course it was. Madame Allegria was in the business of sex. And she knew how to use it to get what she wanted.
And now…her fiancé was running his fingers over her aunt’s sex, right at the dinner table, in front of his parents. This was the man she would be marrying, tying her life to.
Valerie stood from the table, pushing her chair back so suddenly that it nearly toppled over.
Everyone’s eyes cut to her but it was Celine that Valerie was looking at. Did she know?
“Everything all right, darling?” Derek Larchmont asked.
“Y-yes,” Valerie replied, before clearing her throat. She pasted on a smile that felt as brittle as Celine’s. “I need to use the powder room, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Derek said. “Our server will show you the way. For the rest of us, let’s retire to the sitting room for the night. We can have our dessert served in there.”
Valerie was unseeing as she followed the server from the room. He was silent as he led her down the hallway, up the grand staircase she’d seen on her first visit to the house, and halfway down another hallway.
“In here, Miss,” he said before opening the door and then backing away. “Do you need me to wait for you, to show you—”
“No,” Valerie said quickly. “That’s all right, thank you.”
She locked herself inside the small room, leaning her back against the door. It was hard to breathe in the dress so she stood there for long moments, staring at herself in the reflection of the mirror. Like everything in the house, it was gilded and heavy, leaning against the wall, and…expensive.
Valerie thought of Celine, feathering her gilded little cage. And she wondered if that was her fate too. To smile at people across the table at dinner parties and pat her husband’s arm and call him dear.
She smiled, a bitter twist of her lips, but in the reflection she saw her face begin to crumble.
She stifled the small sob that escaped her throat, clasping her hand over her mouth, and her mind went to Dravka.
Dravka, who had kissed her again just a few hours earlier. Just thinking about him, thinking about his dark eyes and gentle hands, quieted her sobs until she felt centered again.
She remembered the first time she’d ever seen him. It was the first day she’d been on Everton. A week after her mother had died. Madame Allegria had told her to go introduce herself to the Krave in the Cluster of the brothel. Alone.
Back then, Valerie had still been quite numb. She didn’t remember walking down the hallway to the Cluster, she didn’t remember opening the door, or standing at the threshold, seeing four pairs of eyes staring back at her as she hollowly introduced herself.
But then, her eyes had found Dravka’s. She remembered her heart giving a little throb at the sight of him and all at once, her breath had seemed to return to her. He’d been watching her carefully as she’d introduced herself. And once she was done? A small smile, secretive and knowing, had passed over his lips…and he’d never looked away from her.
As if he knew.
As if he’d always known, from that very first moment, that they’d…
Valerie blew out a long breath, regarding herself in Celine Larchmont’s gilded mirror.
Pull yourself together, she told herself. You can do this. You have to.
She patted her face, smoothing over the streaks of saline that had trailed down her cheeks. She used the toilet—which was nearly impossible in her tight dress, but she managed—and then washed up, taking deep, steadying breaths every few moments.
You can do this, she thought as she exited the powder room. Down the hallway, there wasn’t a soul in sight. As she navigated her way back to the staircase which led down to the lower level, she passed an ajar door.
A small moan made her freeze and made her turn.
It had been left open on purpose, Valerie realized. Because when she turned, her eyes darted through the door, into an office of some kind, with dark bookcases lining the walls and a darker desk the size of a car before them.
And on that desk was her aunt, her black dress pulled up around her waist, her legs wrapped around Gabriel Larchmont’s hips. He was driving those hips into Madame Allegria, his pace frenzied as he grinned down at her.
Val must’ve made a sound. A surprised sound. Because both Madame Allegria’s and Gabriel’s eyes found her.
Neither stopped.
If anything, Gabriel’s grin grew wider when he saw her watching. If anything, his pace quickened further, thrusting harder, like he was putting on a show. As for her aunt? Her eyes narrowed, as if trying to tell her something. Her expression wasn’t gloating. It was calculating and shrewd as it always was.
Gabriel’s groan broke whatever had kept Valerie rooted in place. His pace grew choppy, flesh slapping against flesh, and Valerie fled, knowing what would come next.
You look very much like your aunt.
That was what Gabriel had
told her when she’d first met him a few days ago. Right in this very house.
The words weren’t all that strange, but something about his tone had felt off to her. Now she knew why. Now she knew why he’d agreed to marry her in the first place. Not only could he take part in his family’s company, but he would always be tied to Madame Allegria. And his wife? Well, she looked like the woman he was in love with, the woman he couldn’t have the way he wanted.
Valerie wondered what he’d do when he found out her aunt wasn’t capable of love.
Something shifted in her, cold and icy.
You can do this. You have to, she repeated to herself, finding that her hand was on the bannister of the staircase she didn’t remember finding. Behind her, Madame Allegria and Gabriel were no doubt making themselves presentable again.
Once on the main level, she searched for the sitting room, wandering aimlessly around that grand, empty house. It was beautiful from the outside but rotten within, Valerie thought. Priceless art hung from the walls, every inch was polished to perfection, everything chosen with careful precision and taste, meant to impress.
There was an open door at the end of the hallway, silvery light spilling out from within. Curious, Valerie ventured towards it, pushing it further open to step inside.
Her lips parted, her eyes going wide…but this time with awe and envy.
It was a conservatory.
The walls were made of glass, the silvery light of the moon shining inside. The fragrance of the flowers were heavenly, perfuming the air with a strange but addicting scent. White and red and pink and lilac and orange blooms met her gaze wherever she looked. There were even fruit trees, something she’d never seen before. Oranges and pomegranates and peaches.
Greenery mixed with the colorful flowers, creating a beautiful effect that overwhelmed her senses. Valerie thought she could get lost in there forever. She might even find some kind of happiness there.
Her eyes alighted on a white flowering bush a few paces ahead of her, tucked into its own gilded pot.