by A. Zavarelli
I expected him to come and perv on me, but he didn’t. He didn’t leave his office all day. But it was nearing dinnertime, and I assumed he’d be making his way back to this part of the house soon enough. I was hoping to be finished by then, but my luck had run out. He appeared out of nowhere at the ill-timed moment I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing his stupid kitchen floor.
He walked past me without a word and grabbed his meal from the fridge, popping open the container and leaning against the counter while he ate his salad.
“You missed a spot,” he said between bites, pointing with his shoe at a scuff mark on the tile.
I glared up at him, another choice word on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t use it because I wasn’t prepared to lose another pair of shoes. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I asked.
“It’s dinnertime,” he said. “You should eat something as well.”
“I already ate.”
He didn’t move, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him watching me disgrace myself to appease him. Even though my childhood had stolen any shred of modesty I might have possessed, I hadn’t shown my body to a man in a long time.
I rocked back on my knees and looked up at him, trying to figure out how I was going to even the score. In the middle of that notion, the front door opened without warning, and I let out a shriek as another man breezed his way into the kitchen.
He arched an eyebrow in my direction before turning his attention to Lucian. “Did you get a new housekeeper?”
Lucian smirked. “Something like that.”
I tried to make a beeline for the bedroom, but Lucian’s voice stopped me. “Gypsy, have you forgotten your manners?”
I didn’t turn around, and I knew I would pay for it later, but he was delusional if he thought I would entertain conversation in my current state.
“You’re an asshole,” I announced. Screw it. The loss of another pair of shoes would be worth that one.
“So you’ve said, several times. There’s a flannel in my office. Why don’t you put it on and come back out to say a proper hello to Nolan.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that. A flannel was better than nothing. I bolted for his office and found the flannel hanging on the back of his chair. It seemed odd that he’d have a flannel lying around in the middle of a Vegas summer, but I wasn’t going to question it. It was soft, but too big, which worked out in my favor. The fabric hung down to my thighs, giving me a shred of security.
Lucian would expect me to return without delay, but before I left, I couldn’t help looking over the scattered paperwork on his desk. There was a lot of it that didn’t really interest me, but the key hanging from the desk drawer did.
It was risky to take it, but if I had any chance at all of getting out of this marriage I would need to find some dirt on him. Even though the likelihood of me digging anything up in this office was small, I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. I locked the drawer and shoved the key into the pocket of the flannel. If he found it, I could always say he left it there.
I walked out of the office but stopped before the end of the hall. I really didn’t want to go talk to his guest, whoever he was, but I was keenly aware that it didn’t really matter what I wanted. Lucian would make me pay for it if I didn’t go, and I needed to pick my battles wisely. I peeked around the corner and found Lucian and his friend at the kitchen table. They were engrossed in conversation, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to listen in for a minute before making myself known.
“It’s going to be tough win,” Lucian said.
“Aren’t they always?” Nolan smiled wistfully. “Yet you take them on.”
“Something’s different about this kid.” Lucian rubbed the back of his neck, but it did little to dissolve the tension in his body. “I don’t know.”
“Is it possible that he reminds you of yourself when you were his age?”
Lucian was pensive, and it was the first time I’d seen any semblance of emotion on his face. This was the proof that something in his past haunted him, and I just needed to figure out what it was.
“How are you feeling?” Nolan redirected the conversation.
Lucian shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve lost weight.” Nolan’s eyes drifted over Lucian’s frame with concern.
“Not much.”
“How do you plan to see this case through if—”
“I will see it through,” Lucian interjected.
They were both quiet then, and I knew I’d blow it if I waited any longer. I exited the hall and took a seat at the end of the table. They both turned their attention to me.
Lucian waved his hand between us. “Nolan, this is Gypsy.”
“Hi, Gypsy.”
I batted my eyes in his direction. “Hello.”
Nolan was an older man. Probably in his sixties, if I had to guess. He seemed surprised by my sudden presence in Lucian’s life, and the curiosity in his eyes gave me hope. He would be an easy mark to plead my case to if it came down to it. I might as well start winning him over now, just in case. Every person in Lucian’s life could be a potential ally if I worked it right.
“I’m gay,” he announced dryly. “So you can save your charm for someone else.”
My shoulders fell, and he smiled. “How do you two know each other?”
I wondered how Lucian was going to spin this, so I turned to him with a smile. “Yes, how did we meet, my darling husband?”
Nolan’s brows shot up at my endearment, but it didn’t faze Lucian.
“I’m blackmailing her,” Lucian said.
I glared at him, and Nolan chuckled as if he often heard this kind of thing in everyday conversation. “I see.”
“She’s a brat,” Lucian went on. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“And you’re a bastard.” I showboated my pearly whites.
“That’s two items from your closet.” He returned my sarcasm with a lazy smile. “You sure you want to keep going? There’s a Louis Vuitton bag in there calling my name.”
“Not the bag,” I responded, horrified.
“Watch your mouth and you might still escape with it intact. This is your last warning.”
I looked at Nolan. “You just heard him tell you that he’s basically keeping me hostage here, and you’re okay with that? What kind of man are you?”
Nolan held up his hands. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I don’t care to know either. What Lucian does is his business, and I trust that whatever his reasons for keeping you here are good ones.”
I stood and shoved back the chair. This guy was no help. “May I be excused now?”
“You may,” Lucian answered. “It’s probably best you get back to cleaning, princess.”
BY THE TIME DINNER HAD come around, I was starving. Lucian told me there was a salad waiting for me in the fridge before he disappeared into his office. I popped open the container and took one look at the greens and decided against it.
My frustration drove me to the pantry where I sorted through bins of whole grains and health foods I didn’t even know how to pronounce, let alone cook. The man didn’t own a single microwaveable thing or anything of the pour and stir variety.
Enough was enough. He could eat this way if he wanted to, but I had my own money and my own options. Even though he’d taken away my cell phone, Lucian was still one of the rare people to own a landline, and as luck would have it… a phone book. I scoured through the yellow pages and hit gold. But the minute I began to dial, a shadow fell over me, solid fingers prying the phone from my hand.
“What are you doing?” Lucian scowled.
He was so close that I couldn’t move without touching his body, so I kept my gaze forward.
“Obviously, I was trying to order pizza.”
He closed the book and shoved it back into the drawer from where it came. “We have food here.”
My frustration swelled and ejected from my mouth with all the eloquence of a fou
r-year-old. “I don’t want your stupid, weird food.”
There was a long silence in which I could feel his eyes on me, dissecting whatever it was he thought he could see. “There’s some macaroni and cheese in the cupboard,” he offered. “If you want to make that instead.”
My cheeks heated, and I turned away, so he couldn’t see. “Forget it.”
I tried to leave, but his arm snaked out and caught me. My body was rigid, and he wasn’t respecting my boundaries when he forced me to turn and meet his eyes.
“Gypsy.” His voice was deceptively soft, and his eyes made me think for a split second that he was being nice. “Do you know how to cook?”
“Of course, I know how to cook.” A lie. A big, fat, embarrassing lie. But that was none of his business.
The typical sharpness of his features gave way to compassion, and I hated it. I hated that he thought he had any right to feel sorry for me.
“I’ll just go to bed,” I said. “Let me go.”
“No.” Lucian released me. “You won’t.”
I was prepared to wage a full-fledged war with him until he walked to the cupboard and removed a pot, offering it to me.
“What is this?” I eyed the offending item wearily.
“Come here,” he instructed. “I’m going to show you how to make macaroni and cheese.”
I didn’t want to go. I’d been humiliated enough already, and I suspected this wouldn’t go over well. But I also suspected that Lucian would do something worse to my innocent shoes if I didn’t. At least, that was what I told myself when I forced myself to join him in front of the stove.
He handed off the pan and gave me instructions in the same no-nonsense way he always spoke. “First, you need to add water.”
I used the filtered spout from the fridge and did as he told me, anxiety building in my chest when I realized I didn’t know how much to add. I was too proud to ask, but it didn’t matter because a moment later, I felt his hand on my arm, signaling me to stop. When I turned, he was so close my hair brushed against his jaw. Our eyes locked, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. I couldn’t deny the power of this man. Not when it was right in front of me.
He was unjustly handsome, his face the kind of beautiful you’d never expect from someone so antisocial. Inwardly, I knew he didn’t feel anything. I’d seen him cold and cruel, inflexible and harsh. But at that moment, his eyes were gentle, and I couldn’t find it in me to break away. I studied the lines of his face, the signs of stray silver hairs on his temples. Something about him made me feel as if I’d been punched in the chest every time I looked at him.
I broke the spell between us and turned away. Lucian took my cue, shaking his head as he retreated and gave me back my space.
“Now it goes on the stove,” he told me, his voice thick with something I couldn’t identify.
“Okay.” I set the pot on the stove, and he continued his lesson, never taking his eyes off me.
He showed me how to light the burner, and then he stood beside me while we waited in awkward silence for the water to heat. The kitchen was hot, and somehow in the space of just a few moments, the tension between us seemed to reach a boiling point.
I followed his instructions for the next ten minutes, emptying the pasta into the pot, stirring, straining, and mixing. Every time Lucian leaned closer and his skin brushed against mine, my heart beat a little faster. I wondered if it was intentional, if he knew what he was doing to me. But when I chanced a peek up at him, I realized it wasn’t just me.
Gazing into eyes so dark, they looked downright predatory, I didn’t have to guess that he was affected too. I could feel the heat rolling off him when he tucked an errant piece of hair away from my face.
“You should wear this back when you cook,” he said in a rough voice.
I nodded because I couldn’t speak, and Lucian seemed to understand that things were getting out of control when his eyes momentarily drifted to my lips. For a split second, I thought he might try to kiss me. But instead, he turned away, scrubbing a hand through his hair before he retrieved a bowl from the cupboard and set it on the counter.
“Eat up, pet. I need to get back to work.”
“HOLY CRAP.” GYPSY GLANCED OUT the passenger window with wide eyes. “You’re taking me to church?”
I glanced at her face in profile, the beaming sunlight highlighting her coppery skin. She had the cheekbones of a woman, but her animated expressions often exposed her youth. I wondered what was going through her mind when she pressed her fingertips against the door and leaned forward. Did she recall how many times she came here on her own to confess her sins, or would she even admit to me that she had?
She opted for silence, even as I opened the door and helped her from the car. I’d given her a new dress for the occasion—one I hoped would be modest—but it occurred to me there was no such piece of clothing for Gypsy. Her legs went on for miles, and it didn’t matter what material she wrapped herself in, she was the Christmas present every man wanted.
At that moment, I was one of them. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Without all the makeup and the invisible armor, she looked like she might have belonged here, even if she didn’t feel like it.
She smoothed some imaginary wrinkles from the material around her waist. “Is this some sort of an exorcism? Is that why you brought me here?”
“No,” I answered. “We’re here for Sunday service.”
Her eyes drifted toward the entrance of Saint Vincent’s, a place she’d come to know well. I waited again for her to acknowledge it, but she didn’t.
“I have something else for you,” I said.
She turned to see what it was, and her arm brushed against mine. Her skin was soft, and it had the immediate effect of making me feel as if this was the last place I belonged because all I wanted to do at that moment was touch her again.
I retrieved the delicate gold rosary necklace from my pocket. It was expensive and rare, a one-of-a-kind piece I’d purchased on a whim after the first night I saw her. I’d waited for months to drape the chain around her neck, and when I did, the moment lived up to all my expectations. It was the perfect complement to her skin tone, and it brought out a sweetness in her temperament, but more than that, it gave me a sense of relief.
“It’s beautiful.” Gypsy ran her fingers along the tiny pearls. “But I don’t know the rosary.”
My lips tilted at the corners. “I know. But I couldn’t imagine it belonging to anyone else.”
My palm found the small of her back, and I escorted her inside the church. She shivered, and it reminded me of the first time I’d stepped foot in here. It was a time when I didn’t have faith in my life, and if you’d asked me if I was a believer, I’d have told you to go to hell.
I didn’t know what Gypsy’s belief systems were. I only knew that, on some level, she felt safe here. She often stole in here secretly, confessing her darkest secrets, only to flee as though she’d never spoken them aloud at all. It was the reason that even though she represented everything I loathed, I wanted to believe there was redemption for her.
She trailed along beside me, pausing to observe the water inside the baptismal font. I dipped my fingers into the liquid while she watched, making the sign of the cross on myself. Then, against my better judgment, I wet my fingers again. I met her eyes, and she sucked in a breath, and everything else around us seemed to slip away. With scrupulous care, I anointed her forehead and sternum before dragging my fingers across the sensitive flesh of her collarbone to finish on her right.
She trembled, and it triggered an image of me baptizing her naked form in this holy water, only to desecrate her afterward like the true heathen I was. My eyes closed on a sigh, and I tried to gain control of my body and thoughts before they ventured into darker territory. I wanted to protect this girl, but I couldn’t deny the urge inside me that wanted to ruin her too.
We took a seat in the outer pews, and she seemed relieved that I didn’t make her sit up front. I was
n’t certain what to expect when the priest and his attendants took their places for the service. Part of me suspected she would throw a fit and demand to leave, but she didn’t.
Instead, she listened raptly throughout the service as if she were trying to decipher the true meanings behind the hymns. Catholicism was, in essence, a series of rituals. And while I didn’t necessarily consider myself a devout Catholic, I respected the rituals. They gave order to the chaos inside my head at a time when I needed it the most.
After the darkest chapter of my life, I’d found peace in this place, and I brought Gypsy here with the hope that someday she might too.
The service finished without delay, and she remained quiet on the drive home. I didn’t intrude on that silence. I felt it best to let her digest it on her own. At times, I could teach her, but there would be moments she’d have to learn on her own.
WHEN WE GOT BACK HOME, I left Lucian to finish some of my cleaning duties. Partly because I just wanted to finish them, and partly because I needed to organize my thoughts about this man.
He was an enigma. A man who essentially blackmailed me into a marriage and threatened to send me to prison at every opportunity, but one who apparently concerned himself with my soul. It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this situation made sense.
I replayed this morning’s events over and over again, searching for clues to determine his motivations for bringing me to that church. It crossed my mind that he knew about my secret confessions, but then I remembered that the priest told me himself he was bound to silence, and he would not break that silence.
Very few men in this world were worth trusting, but I believed in Father Hawk. He hadn’t betrayed me so far, even after he’d seen my face and talked to me without the veil of a confessional booth. The only logical conclusion I could draw from the day’s events was that Lucian took me there merely because he wanted to. Perhaps in time I would understand his reasons, but it wouldn’t be today.