Naturally, there is the matter of the blonde man, Levi, to be concerned about. What if he attempts another swing at me? Or worse, what if he only did so to see what my reaction would be?
I loathe feeling this way. Being uncertain as to whether or not I measure up. And then actually hoping he finds me attractive, despite how much he sickens me. Bu that is a woman’s curse, I suppose.
And so I climbed the staircase and waltzed into the room; marvelling again at the decadent furnishing, stirring my sense of taste to the extent that I would have approved of my need to cry at how pretty the room is.
One tear fell.
And then I began crying in earnest and could not deliberate on the reason for my distress, other than the knowledge that Dimitri’s smile had appeared particularly gentle as he disappeared out the door after I had spent near on two entire days’ worth of energy trying to calm myself for his appearance.
What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t have been certain enough to tell you. All I could think was Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri. I could vividly trace the curve of his lips as he instructed me for the day to come and I could virtually see his thought process as he dictated my task.
He doesn’t think I can do it either.
As the tears began to trail harder and faster down my cheeks, I found myself sobbing on the floor and tried to stifle the noise. Like some sort of wounded creature. But I could hear the footsteps rushing towards my door.
Dimitri?
Thank god the lights were still out. The room lay bathed in shadow much as it had earlier this evening, only with more intention. The foliage leered at me from the darkness. Grotesque misshapen monsters.
“Eva?”
Just Cecily. Simultaneously I could feel my heart clench up and release as my sister’s feather-soft footfalls followed me into the darkness. I snapped back from my self-pity, wiping at the tears still on my face as I crouched on the floor. Cecily’s hand found my hair and she gently pulled her fingers through it, stopping at the tangles and coaxing them loose with barely a tug.
Oddly, I found her closeness comforting and could almost have been tempted to curve up towards her touch.
Almost.
I stood, raking my sister’s hand away from me, despite the hesitation in her approach thereafter. I could only hope that she did not see my aggravation for what it was and simply put it down to my discomfort at the events of the last forty eight hours.
“Honey, are you alright?” Her meekness only irritated me further.
Alright? Of course, I wasn’t alright. Between the betrayal of my heart by my boyfriend and the woman in front of me, the betrayal of my own sense of pride being tricked into camping out here by a man that I hardly knew (and knowing that I wouldn’t leave even if the chance presented itself), and the final betrayal of knowing that Cecily and Delilah had known about this all along, I felt as though the only acceptable result to this equation would be for the world to open up beneath my feet and remove me from this conundrum.
But naturally I couldn’t say any of this to Cecily.
My baby sister’s eyes shone at me from out of the darkness and I could almost see the lilt of a shadow as she smiled and her cool hand found mine, guiding me to the edge of the bed.
“Don’t be angry with me, Eva,” My heckles rose before she could clarify her wording, “I know you want to be alone, probably. I also know you have really good reason for being so scarce these last few months. Alex wouldn’t have said so otherwise; he seriously worries about you, you know.”
“Look, Cess-”
“What I was going to say was that I didn’t come in here to disturb you or interfere with any time you needed alone. But I heard you crying. And Dimitri said to me on Friday that you may have difficulty in coping with what’s going on. He said if you seemed like you needed me I should make myself available.”
“Friday?” My voice sounded inaudible to me. Like this new betrayal was so terrible a slap in the face that saying it any louder would make it too real to grasp.
Cecily’s fingers snatched towards me and grasped my face before I could pull away, holding my skull between her hands like an organic vice. I glowered at her from my human cage, trying to calm my temper. Of course they all knew about it as early as, if not earlier than, the night before Delilah’s party. It only makes sense now. Even as I had considered not giving any of my peers at the event the satisfaction of seeing me leaving for a tryst with a man, still I had gone upstairs with him. Why? Because my dear, sweet Delilah had arranged it.
He had been searching for another girl to add to his collection and Delilah had suggested me.
“He wanted me to keep an eye on you and to give you whatever you need to make this less difficult for you,” She said as she released my face to dig through a small, beaded sling bag over her shoulder. Pulling out a glinting little container, possibly a flask, she placed it in my hand. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.”
I didn’t need to say anything, the look on my face was enough to make her snort back a giggle as she shook her head, “No, I’m not trying to drug you. He gave it to me too, and Delilah. It’s kind of like tonic, except it tastes more like…
“Well, I can’t say,” She giggled again, her hand slightly shaky as she twisted off the lid of the flask, “You’ll have to try it for yourself.”
“Cecily, listen, I really don’t want you to think I’m turning away your offer. It’s sweet. And it was kind of you to be here with me; you are right. I feel a bit like Alice’s doppelganger as she dropped down the rabbit hole. But you know I can’t just drink whatever is in there. Be reasonable. You must realise that you’re acting insane.” I nearly yelled the last word, my sense of decency and consideration for her delicate feelings shattered and ruined at this point. I could feel my lip beginning to tremble and the interior of my eyelids growing grainy and burning with pain as irrational tears welled up. It made me furious.
Cecily pushed the bottle closer to me, enticing me to drink and I felt a wave of aggravation at her inability to feel any empathy whatsoever. That she would still be incapable of reading my intentions, desires and deepest regrets after all this time. My hand rose to fling the flask from her fingers.
Dimitri and his special tonic be damned.
But then the smell rising from the flask reached me, and for a tense few moments I couldn’t move. After a few minutes, or perhaps it was closer to hours, my lungs forced me to take in a breath and as I did so, the scent morphed into a taste on the air and came to rest at the back of my throat.
Familiar. Yes. But so much more than that. The smell was indescribable in that way that people say it with a look of remembering a time less complicated, pasted over their faces. But for me it transformed into visions of Dimitri. His black hair, almost indigo falling into his eyes and the silken scratch of his beard against my skin. The way his hands were always so cold even before I knew him intimately.
With the smell gliding across my senses and the vision of him in my mind, the thought of him and I alone together made my stomach do strange things. My untold muscles clenched all over and again the same tears that I hate, hate, hate!
I blinked them back rapidly as Cecily’s voice spoke to me from somewhere that was not here and I strained to concentrate on her words, “Remember when I was five, Eva, and I had climbed into that great, massive tree in the back garden? I couldn’t get down and Alex wasn’t there to help me. I wouldn’t let you run for mama or daddy because they had made me promise not to climb the damn thing. I didn’t want to come down and be given a hiding so I stayed perched in the tree and eventually you told me to jump and said you would catch me, remember?”
“Get to the point.”
“Well, even then I didn’t want to. But you promised me you would catch me. All I had to do was trust you and I would be well and safe and back with all of you again. And you did catch me.
“Even though you couldn’t walk for three days after that.”
“You’re saying I s
hould drink this… miraculous libation. That I should trust you?”
“No,” Cecily’s voice is reedy and hoarse all at once as though she is wrestling with something, “I’m saying you should trust him.”
That gave me pause, like she’d slapped me through the face to knock the sense back into me. But still I was undeterred. “And what if it isn’t okay at the end of it all, Cecily? What if after everything I don’t make it back to the safety of the ground because nobody’s there to catch me?”
Cecily giggled and then muttered, plainly and succinctly, “Of course he’ll be there, Dumb Dumb. He’s a god.”
Doubts still rallied at me from the recesses of my mind like a whispering wind in the darkness, but the scent driven towards me from the flask made me neglect to question further as Cecily stumbled for an answer to my concern.
I took the vessel from her hands and drank.
I can’t describe the taste. As Cecily so eloquently stated, there is no fitting manner in which such a flavour can be explained. Manna from heaven? Possibly.
But essentially, the most striking moment was not when the warm, broth-like liquid settled on my tongue, but the moments thereafter. A well of emotion flew through me, striking out first at my fingers, which curled into cinched balls of pins and needles. Then it travelled up my spine, locking it into rigid place and attempting to force a bend all at once as the flesh there rippled unpleasantly. Finally it made its way to my eyes where, despite my discomfort at allowing them in present company, tears freckled my lids again.
And every inch of this bodily invasion screamed Dimitri’s name.
It consumed me for uncountable seconds. I curled up on the bed and allowed myself to cry as I had when Logan, my first ever boyfriend, kissed Monique Farringdon at my fourteenth birthday party. But this was so much worse somehow, as though I would never be close enough to Dimitri, not even if I climbed inside his skin.
When I realised the insanity of it all in a moment amidst the blind adoration, my tears only fell faster and I allowed Cecily to curl up along my spine, her body perfectly moulded to fit mine. She wrapped her arms around my middle as she had when we were kids and placed her face beside mine, whispering nonsensical, soft cooing sounds to shush me.
Sleep teased the edges of my mind and now still I lie here with my sister having given into her need for rest hours ago.
No, I can’t sleep.
But I understand now that my decisions are no longer my own.
I nearly jump and disturb Cess as the door creaks open.
Dimitri’s face peers in and I can feel every inch of me soften. A smile betrays me.
“Hey.” He whispers and beckons with a small gesture.
I slide carefully out of the bed and pad to him, allowing him to slip an arm around me as we exit the room.
He seems grateful that I don’t pull away.
“I’m sorry about earlier, My Lamb.” He’s still whispering, but his tone has returned to its more natural state.
“Yeah, I have to be honest, I don’t get it.” I try and keep myself at a distance, but my feelings keep letting me down. I know my body language is responding to him, I can’t keep my arms crossed, or my shoulders straight, or my chin down.
“Come, let’s walk and talk.”
We head outside of the house into the back garden. A Bermuda-shaped pool shines with its night lights in the darkness. Set into it are tall marble pillars, tall enough to lean on in the deep end. Arrayed around the marvel are yet more plants in varying shades and sizes. A line of neatly trimmed rose bushes makes me smile as I remember the twelve.
Dimitri, to my intense disquiet, strips off his clothing and dives unceremoniously into the glistening water. He surfaces and smiles at me, water pouring from his hair and a mischievous smile on his face.
I toy with the notion of following him, but opt for the coy root. Though it is blisteringly warm enough for such an excursion. But oh, do I desperately want to follow him into that damnded pool.
“You said we were going to talk?”
“And we will,” He winks, “Just as soon as you come on in.”
I shake my head playfully.
“Don’t make me come fetch you, Miss Wright.”
A twitch of excitement tickles my belly; that does sound fun. But I pull at my clothes, taking longer than I should, lingering over my underwear, my bra, my panties.
I step gingerly in, relishing the swirl of weightlessness and cold around my legs. But Dimitri sweeps over, too quickly and pulls me in, pulls me to him, drags me into the water where my feet can’t tough the bottom.
Pressed up this close to him, I can’t resist the look in his eyes, the feel of him thrumming against my thigh, but I do. I pull back, just enough to be at arm’s length.
“So?” I let the question hang.
“The library?” He deflates.
“Of course, the library.”
“Well,” He pulls me to him again, chaste this time, “I run a business, first and foremost.”
“You do know the expression about business and pleasure, right?”
He smiles, “Yes, but with you I’m weak.”
I scoff, “So you’re trying to tell me that that kitten display of adoration from Cess, D and Melinda was completely unfounded? That you only have eyes for me? You seriously expect me to fall for that?”
He frowns, “I can’t change how they feel, Eva.”
My voice raises bit by bit as my blood pressure climbs, “And the bracelet? It was Melinda’s, wasn’t it?”
He sighs. I can see him shutting down on me, growing cold again. Aloof.
“Dimitri, please, talk to me.”
“You honestly want to know what’s going on here?”
“Yes!”
“Then listen to me,” I raise an eyebrow in mock anticipation. “I am weak with you. For you.”
It’s as if it’s unintentional on both our parts. I wrap my thighs around his hips to keep afloat. Mentally, physically.
With one movement he’s in me.
Shudders trickle through me as he whispers in my ear, “With you it can work.”
TUESDAY 18 November 2008… 08:18
Grant Helmsley glares at me from three desks away by the exit to the elevator. I can see him trying his damndest to get past Miriam, the features sub-editor who is discussing what looks to be her little grandson’s latest escapades. There is much laughing and cooing; insubstantial comments drifting through the buzzing office.
Helmsley’s objective is clearly my station and as much as I feel like trying to make a quick getaway, I know I shouldn’t. Dimitri gave me a task to complete and offered a fair amount of cash for it. And I must do everything in my power to attain my objective. Even if that means waiting for the dragon to corner me.
I scraped through my last deadline and even I have to admit, I put minimal effort into it.
What can I say? I was distracted.
Suck it up. Here he comes.
“So, Eva…”
For the hundredth time since I started working with Grant, I have to marvel at his secret ability to fill voids of silence with unspoken accusations. I have seen writers crumble beneath his scrutiny and mumble their ways out of his office when the only words he had uttered through the entire conversation of over ten minutes had been “I see.” I found that most people tried to fill up the absence of actual reprimands with excuses and explanations that had not been requested by the boss.
Of course, I will not sink to his level. But since he is just standing there, his elbow casually leaning on the edge of my cubicle and his eyebrow raised as if waiting for me to apologise like some naughty toddler caught with mommy’s perfume, I will take the opportunity to pitch my story.
“Hey, Grant. Listen, I’ve got this idea for a piece.”
“Oh? You mean like the one on the Hilton party which ran so late we had to hold up the print run?”
Cringe.
“That. Yes, I am sorry about that. I had-” I fumble for s
ome excuse to make him stop staring at me as though he is picturing the words EX-EMPLOYEE hanging over my head.
And then it hits me.
“Actually, that is part of what I wanted to speak with you about. I have recently made contact with Dimitri Kron. He would like us to do a story on him.”
Silence inches out from our private circle like a ripple effect, but for once, the silence emanating from Grant is not deliberate. He stares at me with a disbelieving, almost sneering expression colouring his features. But beneath his distaste of my commentary, I can see he is, at least, a little unsure of how to proceed.
“A story?”
“Yes. He’s concerned about his reputation following that scandal of two weeks ago. You know, the one with the girl that left the suicide note implicating him.”
“Yes, yes,” Grant brushes me off like a fly and I have to suppress a smile from creeping to my face. If he is getting annoyed with me for distracting him from his thoughts, then he has been given something to think about.
“Here,” he motions with his hand as he steps aside, finally allowing me movement out of my cubicle, “Why don’t we talk in my office?”
On auto-pilot I follow the direction he points, as though I have never been in his office before, as though I am not being showered in death stares from some loitering about aimlessly and being nodded at by others like I have just achieved the mantle of ‘personal hero’. As though I have any clue as to what I am going to say to my boss when we get there.
As I step foot inside Grant’s office, my skin, which has been growing unbearably moist in the heat the entire morning brushes over with chilled goose-bumps as the AirCon – always maintained for Mr Helmsley’s comfort – breathes down on me like the breath of a yeti. In the entire city, currently sweltering in the humidity and breath-stealing heat of summer, this office must be the only place which offers any sort of solace. This and Dimitri’s home.
The Key (Sanguinem Emere) Page 7