by Jack Parker
"Do I make you uncomfortable, Lauren?" Her tone suggested genuine concern, and I met her eyes once more. I saw nothing but kindness, the only thing she'd shown me since I walked through her door unannounced, but I saw something else, too, something I couldn't quite identify. Was she enjoying this?
Her damnable siren's voice calmed me and unnerved me, and I felt an irrational anger welling in my chest at that thought. I had not survived the last 22 years by allowing myself to be pulled into a false sense of security by kind eyes and a silky voice. Granted, none I have encountered before could hold half a candle to Luci Pravitas, but that knowledge did little to sway the slowly building rage. Lauren Danes was not dominated or bested by anyone, physically or mentally, and this mind game Luci started would be no different.
"Yes.," the word slipped out before I could stop it, and Luci's eyebrows raised in surprise. Clearly, that had not been the answer she'd been expecting. "I'm just not used to being asked so many personal questions, especially by someone I just met." I hoped my honesty had not offended the woman and winced when I realized that seeking her approval is the exact opposite of getting a step ahead of her in this mental challenge. Why did I care? This woman meant nothing to me.
"I understand how my unorthodox methods may be disconcerting." Neither her words nor tone held an apology.
Intrigue replaced the anger that had been building in my gut, and I seized my opening to turn the conversation onto her. "Do you conduct all of your job interviews this way?"
"Yes," she answered easily, undeterred by my tactics.
"Why?" I shot back immediately.
"Interest." She leaned forward a bit, apparently excited that I had finally asked her what seemed to be the right question. "I rarely find genuinely interesting people throughout my travels. You might call me a collector of sorts in that regard. Skills can be taught and learned, but I must find something of worth in another's personality—in his or her soul - before contracting them for employment in my home." She smiled as her eyes glazed with memories of something that had brought joy to her life.
The explanation made perfect sense, but my stomach still clenched and churned with anger from the emotional invasion. I flinched reflexively when she abruptly reached for her tea cup, and my eyes again landed on the marks on her wrist. They were not the remnants of a suicide attempt as they were nowhere near a vein, but the jagged edges of the old wounds suggested that they were not made by a medical procedure. Perhaps an accident from childhood had left the scars on the otherwise perfectly clear and smooth skin. The marks felt wrong to me on a woman as striking as the creature sitting before me, accident or not. I wanted to take them away, erase the memories from her mind and protect her from the emotional and physical pain that had obviously accompanied the marks throughout her life.
"And what exactly are the qualities that you are looking for in a personal companion?" I asked distractedly, forcing my eyes from her wrist. "What exactly does a personal companion do, anyway?"
She sorted her thoughts as she sipped the tea. "That would be determined exactly once I hired someone for the position. My situation requires not only someone to accompany me on business trips and keep me entertained during my free hours here at the manor daily, but also someone who would be particularly interested in my business. I have no heir, you see, no one I could in good conscious train to replace me once I've become too tired for my occupation. There are certain unique qualities I am looking for, and one of them would be an ability to develop an attachment and loyalty to not only my business but also to me and my staff. We conduct very personal and sensitive affairs, and one cannot hope to achieve my level of service without a willingness to learn from my techniques. I will not mentor anyone who could not be trusted implicitly, which means she must be able to prove an unquestionable loyalty and devotion to, as I said, not only my cause but to me as well."
A flash of what looked like grief and anger passed over her eyes, like a wispy cloud over the moon. She'd been burned before by someone she tried to make her heir, and he or she had left a hole deep inside this elegant creature who concealed her anguish so expertly. Had I not seen that same pain in my eyes every morning for most of my life, I'd have missed it in hers. Despite our differences, we were clipped from the same cloth, difficult and full of pain in a reality that is disguised by our natural beauty, like silk.
"I'm guessing you've been burned before." She nodded thoughtfully at the statement and sighed.
"Several, in fact, but you never forget your first. Her name was Mattalyn. We attended the same high school and university. First we were friends, and then lovers, before we ever tried to be business partners. It was wonderful for a short while, but then…
Luci paced across the living room floor again and leaned on the mantle of the small fireplace. It'd been twelve hours since Mattalyn had contacted her. It wasn't unusual for her partner to disappear every now and then, recently it seemed every week, but she'd never waited longer than a few hours to return Luci's phone call. Now, well past midnight, Luci fidgeted with her rings and her shirt and paced, torn between anger and fear that she should be contacting the hospitals. She glanced at the clock above the mantle, and a ragged sigh shook her chest. Mattie had been out of reach thirteen hours now; the time slinked by so slowly and quickly at the same time.
She jumped at a sharp knock on her apartment door and swallowed roughly. Mattalyn wouldn't knock. She had a key. Her heels tapped sharply, too loudly on the floor; she felt they shouldn't be louder than her pounding heart in that moment. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing thoughts and then flung open the door.
"Mattie?"Luci steadied her intoxicated lover as she fell over the threshold, the door no longer supporting her weight. She held Mattalyn close and kicked the door shut behind them.
"Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is? What thoughts I was thinking only moments ago?" Luci chided, more relieved than angry. Her Mattie was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered.
"That's because you're too uptight, Luc." Mattie slurred and pushed her anxious lover away, anger clear in her demeanor.
"Excuse me?"Luci made no attempt to hide her indignation. Mattalyn often came home in this state, but she'd never been mean or rude, distant perhaps but never this.
"Luc," Mattalyn flopped onto the sofa and scrubbed her face. Luci waited. "We need to talk. I need to tell you something that I've been keeping from you for a while now. Will you sit?"
"I'll stand." She felt her arms wrap around her own waist, unsure if she'd fallen asleep and was dreaming this surreal scene.
"Of course you will." Mattie pulled herself upright and clung to the arm of the sofa for support and balance. She closed her eyes and breathed through her thoughts and then blurted her next words so fast that Luci nearly missed them through the alcoholic haze.
"Luc, I've been seeing someone else, a man."
"What?" Luci assured herself that this was only a dream, a nightmare, from which she would soon awaken and find Mattalyn sleeping peacefully at her side.
"I've been seeing someone else." Mattalyn opened her tear-filled eyes and searched Luci's face, that gorgeous porcelain face that she'd adored so much for so long.
"Okay." Luci sunk to the sofa across from the one Mattalyn occupied and buried her face in her hands. This had begun to feel like reality rather than a dream. She lifted her head when her tears dissipated and her control returned.
"Okay. How do we fix this?" She was livid, but she loved Mattalyn too much to push her away when she should be pulling her closer. How could she survive without Matt?
"Luci, we can't fix this. This entire situation is too much for me. I'm sorry. What you do, this business of yours, I can't do it anymore. I can't do this anymore. I'm leaving with Mark tonight. I won't be back. I'm sorry. I'll come back and get my stuff when you are at the office this week. Please don't be here." Tears flowed freely down her face, but Luci merely sat stoically, unmoving, with her elbows propped
on her knees.
She felt more than saw Mattalyn moving around the apartment they'd shared for the past year since graduating from university. Soft lips were against her temple, but she was trapped inside her own body, feeling and hearing and seeing but immobile, mute. She couldn't even ask her to stay, only sit and stare at the empty sofa until the sun streaming through the windows blinded her.
Luci sipped at her tea when she'd finished her story and stared at the dying embers in the fire place. She eased herself out of the chair and poked around in the coals and then added two blocks of wood. I gathered my thoughts, unable to respond immediately to the heartbreak that still haunted Luci to this day. I'd do the same to her if she'd let me.
"I'm sorry, Luci." She waved her hand in dismissal of my platitudes.
"No matter. It was, after all, nearly twenty years ago. Time moves forward regardless, and subsequently, my business became more successful for it." She tapped across the floor and resettled into her chair, seemingly unfazed by the tale. Perhaps she truly had moved passed the pain.
"Thanks for sharing." I tried to smile, but it never reached my eyes, just sat there dead on my lips. The skin around her eyes tightened, and the knot that had loosened because of her soothing voice coursing through my veins throughout her speech clenched painfully. Had she merely told me the story to put me at ease, to create the illusion of equal sharing? Something in her eyes set me on edge, and I sat up straighter in the chair. Who the hell was this woman anyway?
I felt my next question slip from my lips breathily, my strong and confident voice stolen by the maelstrom of emotions this woman evoked. "So, what exactly is it that you do?"
Her mouth rose slightly on one side, at the question or the way it was asked I could not be sure. She eased her empty cup onto the silver serving tray and refilled it a third time, and her scars played peek-a-boo with the crisp shirt cuff. I made little effort to avert my eyes again, too curious for manners. She leaned back too quickly and scrambled to prevent the hot liquid in her cup from splashing over the edge. It was the first and only indication that morning that I'd successfully gotten under her skin; her scars were the key to her undoing, to put us on equal ground. Perhaps there was truth in her tale, but it hadn't made her vulnerable, not like this, not like the questions about my father had made me. I raised my eyes to hers in question and then flicked them to her hidden wrist quickly before meeting her icy gaze once more.
"Is there something that you find particularly interesting about my wrist, Lauren?" The question was not unkind, but an edge had slipped into the previously soothing lilt. She held her arms close to her chest as she sipped her tea, hiding any indicative expression she may have sported at my indiscrete staring.
"Just noticing your scars, Ms. Pravitas," I allowed the back cushion to support my weight as I relaxed into the chair and rested my elbows on the arms, mirroring the same predatory pose she'd struck earlier.
"Please, call me Luci," she corrected and sipped her tea. Her voice strained around the words like her throat had tightened, and I felt a little satisfaction at her obvious discomfort by the mention of her imperfection, the weak spot in her otherwise calm and collected stoicism.
"So, what happened, Luci?" I pressed further, alternating my gaze between her eyes and her hidden wrist. The skin around her eyes tightened slightly and emphasized the thin lines that had begun to show there; they made her more beautiful. Her cup hesitated just a moment before completing the journey to her lips as her back stiffened. Her wide blue eyes only flashed anger and what may have been sadness before it was extinguished.
"It is not up for discussion, presently," she murmured. Her back remained stiff as she leaned forward again and placed her cup back on its saucer, gently. It clanked quietly, too quietly. Her slow controlled movements told me that I had struck a nerve that probably should not be irritated too enthusiastically.
"I didn't mean to upset you," I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees before I realized that maybe that was the key to successfully completing this interview. Interesting… challenging. Maybe the two were synonymous for this woman, and that's why she searched so acutely for people she considered interesting. If she provided all of her employees with living quarters, then all she wanted was to be surrounded by people she would not tire of easily. As odd as it seemed to me, I immediately realized that this job might just require half a brain cell, unlike waiting tables and washing dishes at Barb's. If I can't meet this woman blow for blow, then my chances of being hired become nothing but a distant remnant of a dream.
I leaned back in the chair. Even if I didn't take the job, an offer for the position would prove that I am fit for something more than greasy burgers and slippery kitchen floors. So, I pressed the nerve once more.
"It does seem a bit unfair, Luci, that you should expect me to answer so many personal questions without asking a few. I appreciate you telling me about your girlfriend, but come on, that was twenty years ago. You said it yourself, you moved on. If I intend to work for you, I have a right to know who exactly it is that I'm working for. " Her eyes flare again, but this time, I thought I saw a hint of an amused smirk that escaped her carefully controlled expressions. It excited me inexplicably, knowing that I was right. The princess had become bored in her castle and sought a new playmate to occupy her days. "If you're looking for an equal partnership, wouldn't it make sense to give what you're getting instead of it all being one-sided?"
The ire in her eyes quieted in consideration of my question and I seized the opportunity. "Let me see them." I urged gently. "Please? You don't have to tell me what they are from." I added, sensing her reticence.
She stared, her eyes boring into mine once more. I think she may have been judging my sincerity, gauging the level of threat I posed. I realized then that Luci Pravitas could not be as peaceful and put together as she pretended. I knew that look; I've worn it myself more times than I cared to admit. It's the look of a woman who has been betrayed, abused by her life and the people in it, and can no longer trust easily. Perhaps those several partners she mentioned earlier damaged her more than I realized. A pang of guilt punched my chest, but I was too invested in the game to turn back now. This was what I did after all, find the weakness and exploit it for my own selfish needs. Why should this woman be any different than the men I've slept with?
"Very well," she decided and nimbly unbuttoned the cuff before slowly offering me the appendage.
I hesitated, not having expected such ready compliance. I cradled the bottom of her wrist in the palm of my hand and glanced at her face, gauging her reaction. Her expression paralyzed me for a moment. Her eyes slipped shut at the contact, face relieved of tension. Her shoulders slumped forward slightly as my touch soothed her in some way I was unaware. A strand of flaxen hair fell forward, framing her face, and I wished that I could take a picture of her in this moment. She truly was a beautiful woman, odd but beautiful.
Heat flushed my chest again as I pulled her hand closer, careful not to brush against the scar lest it ended this moment prematurely. I felt like a museum curator handling a rare and brittle antique scroll that could shatter with any movement or too much pressure. Slowly, I peeled the shirt cuff back with my free hand, freezing when I heard a sigh slip from Luci's lips. I spared a glance at her face again to make sure she had not changed her mind and then examined the scars closely. The faded edges were jagged, like the flesh had been torn apart or deeply burned. The age of the scars prevented any real indication of what may have caused the marring of such perfect skin, and I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent that very question from being spoken. I had promised that she needn't tell me of their origins after all.
"Why did you answer my ad, Lauren?" She repeated her earlier question, but the strain in her silky voice stole any thoughts of myself and my intentions.
Her breathing was deep and seemed to be intentionally controlled; her jaw had gone completely slack and hung open with the bowing of her head slightly. This woman had gone
a very long time without the physical touch of another human being, a kind one at the very least. I'd never seduced a woman before, but in that moment, I knew that I could and I knew that I'd use her and make her beg me for more
I felt the ping of guilt in my chest again and pushed it aside violently. This was what I was made to do, find a person's weakness and entrap them, control them; I've done it dozens of times with the men I'd fucked. I squeezed Luci's wrist lightly, testing her boundaries, and then tenderly rubbed my thumb up and down the length of the back of her slender hand. The rich business woman had become incredibly lonely in her Victorian castle surrounded by her nice things, not necessarily bored as I had initially believed, and now sought hired companionship to alleviate the pain that came with her isolated existence.
"I told you. You will provide my training," I answered her question softly, not willing to break the moment. I may have been offering her comfort for less than altruistic motives, but for her, the result was the same. We both won. "And it gives me a chance for a change."
I continued the soft ministrations of her hand and wrist with my thumb, never touching her scars. I bit my lip when her fingers flexed around my forearm, and the feathery sensation of my thumb's motion was mimicked on my own arm. Luci's eyelids remained closed, but her breathing had increased, became shallow and erratic. Something was happening between us that I couldn't explain and certainly didn't understand, so I waited. Each graze of my thumb passed closer to the rigged edge of the scar nearest the edge of her wrist, and when an unsteady breath, almost like a ragged sob, shook her chest, I brushed the pad of my thumb down the length of one of the scars slowly. She seemed not to notice at first, but I literally felt the tension surround us once more when her back straightened and she jerked her wrist from my hand simultaneously.