Hello dear readers! First, I need to thank those of you who were kind enough to leave me a review. In the past few months, I've written a couple of scenes that I posted one at a time. I thought I would be able to leave it at that. But how do these things go, I start dreaming again and before I know it, I write something that could happen after the last scene. And so on and so on. So, to prevent me from spamming this website, I decided to combine all my scenes and put them in one story. Because that's what it is, a longer story. I updated it today, and will continue until they are where I want them to be. Thanks for reading and I hope you will enjoy the new chapters! Love, Janet.
He hated his job.
Hated it.
His hand folded around the cold crystal and he brought his drink to his mouth. The amber liquid burned its way down his throat and he shivered slightly. The warmth emerged in his stomach, but it didn't wash away the frustration that soared through his system.
God he hated it.
Today, he hated being alert 24/7. He hated feeling like he was the only person held responsible. He hated the hours of waiting around without being able to lose focus. He hated always having to be the last person leaving the premises. He hated the ridiculous threats that had to be taken seriously. He hated his coworkers, hated the environment and the incompetent police he had to deal with far too many times. He hated his gun that was tucked away in his jacket. He hated his license to injure or kill people who came too close to those he was protecting. Today, he hated the parties, the people, the fake smiles, the acted interest, the uneasiness, the forced jokes. But mostly he hated, hated, not being able to talk about what he was feeling on the inside. Hiding, covering up, keeping up appearances, day in, day out.
He pressed the cold drink to his forehead, rolling it carefully over his skin. It was getting late. In the morning, it would be the same pattern all over again. Night and day, he was forced to be here. But today, he didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be the man he witnessed in the mirroring surface of his drink. Today he wanted to leave. Get away from it all. He needed a way to escape the madness in this place, the madness in his head, his heart. He could leave the palace for a while, run for a few miles, to think, to scream, to fight if he needed it. Because God, he needed something. But first and foremost, he needed more ice.
She hated her job.
Hated it.
She paced through the palace, passing endless walls covered with paintings. Faceless people who were staring at her, judging her.
God she hated it.
Today, she hated being in charge, being the wise one all the time. She hated being possessed by millions of people. She hated being on display, being watched, being supervised, being advised, being guarded. She hated always being the one they were waiting for. She hated her tiara that pressed into her skull, giving her a slight headache. She hated her jewels, they felt like chains at times. She even hated her own smile, hated the feeling of being forced to smile. Today she hated her responsibilities, her tasks, the pressure, yes even the parliament and her staff. And she hated, hated, not being able to say this out loud. Covering up, hiding the truth from everyone, pretending to be better, pretending to be holier than thou, pretending, acting…day in, day out.
Maybe there was a way to escape. Maybe she could find a way to find someone to replace her, if only for a little while. Maybe people wouldn't mind if she took a leave of absence. Maybe she could pretend to be overworked, or upset, or maybe it was simply time to step down. But she couldn't just yet. Not before her son was ready to take her place. Night and day, for a good many years to come, she was forced to be here in the palace. Serving the crown, serving the people, serving her country. It was all in her head, her heart, in her veins. She just needed some time to see the good -things again. Needed a little time away from it all. But for now, she needed something cold to drink.
The kitchen was dark, cold and vacant, but the lazy chair in the far end corner was soft and warm. He leaned his back to the soft leather cushions, sighing deeply before taking a sip. When watching movies, he never understood why people would sit in complete darkness when having a drink…but now it made perfect sense. Calm around him. Sweet bliss of peace and quiet. Silence. Complete silence.
Driven. Strong. Stubborn. Blunt. Forward. Instinctive. A leader.
That's how the people who worked for him described him. Pig-headed. Protective. Smart, maybe. Guiding, perhaps. He'd never shown his softer side, had never allowed anyone to look past his tough exterior.
Why on earth did it have to happen? Why on earth did God or whoever it was in charge find it necessary to place him square in the path of danger? He used to be in control of his body and his mind. He could tell it to run, to stop, to heat up or to cool down. He used to be able to ignore pain, avoid heartache, stop negativity from having an impact on him. He could always function, whenever, wherever. And now… He was risking his career, his life, his sanity by thinking this way. Must stop. He shook his head. Must stop this instant. He took another sip, listening to the ice twinkling in his glass. And then he heard something else.
The silence outside had been replaced by the sound of footsteps coming closer. Closer in his direction. He hoped, he prayed they would walk right past him. But then her familiar cough made him lose all hope.
He froze breathlessly as the door of the kitchen opened quietly and he watched her come in, a blurry vision in purple satin. Fighting the familiar urge to get up as she entered a room, he watched her silently, his heart pounding. Judging by her steady pace she had not seen him, he realized, and she made her way over to the refrigerator. Calmly, she opened it, and as the light of the fridge basked her into its stream, her silhouette made him swallow hard. One arm was lifted up, leaning on the counter. Her head was slightly bent down, looking down to the contents of the fridge. He saw the curls on her forehead, those who refused to be combed back or blow-dried. He noticed the contours of her neck, so gracious, so elegant. He'd never known a woman with a more gracious neck than her. He saw the curve of her nose, painted in black, her eyelashes almost touching her cheeks. Slowly, as if she would feel it if he went too fast, he allowed his gaze to slide lower. Her feminine curves were visible through the thin satin of her robe, a view of her entire form was accessible to him, and although he did see it - he didn't take it all in. For all the sensuality of her silhouette, for all the beauty she exposed to him, something about her showed a sense of mourning, of solitude, a sense of… loneliness.
Lonely.
He momentarily closed his eyes. She was just as lonely as he was.
Oh he knew the origin of his frustration, the cause of his turmoil. Joseph wasn't a stupid man. His gut tightened deeper and he shook his head slightly. He did not dare to open his eyes again, fearing she would be gone if he did. And at the same time he never wanted to look at her again while she was in such a state. She didn't deserve to feel lonely. Clarisse wasn't a woman who should be lonely. She deserved someone who made her feel like…he sighed…like she made him feel. Wanted. Loved. Appreciated. She shouldn't leave this kitchen without knowing, without understanding how much she meant to him. She shouldn't spend another night without having a sense of what could happen, what should be happening, what felt so right in his core and at the same time what felt so utterly wrong. At the very least she had a right to know. And then, suddenly, without even realizing he had even made the decision to speak, he blurted out the words that had been boiling inside him for so long. Eyes kept shut, his voice hoarse and soft, he told her. He finally told her.
"I love you."
Silence fell and hesistantly he opened his eyes, his breath high in his throat, his body completely paralyzed. For a second he wondered if she had heard him but then he saw the change in her, he saw her standing as if frozen to the ground. The shifting of her head wasn't more than an inch, almost invisible in the darkness, but Joseph knew she had heard him. Oh she had heard him all right. And then she closed the fridge. Finally she moved.
Clarisse trembled. From head to toe she trembled. At first from the shock of having someone in the same room as her without her knowledge. But as that first rush of adrenalin quieted down a bit, she realized who had spoken, and what he had said. She closed her eyes silentely, allowing his words to drench her like a warm, soothing shower.
He loved her.
The concept was not new. She had sensed it for quite some time now. And she knew he sensed it too. It was not unexpected. It was certainly not unwanted. But hearing him say the actual words was very new and oh so unexpected. All of her senses were suddenly awake. Blood rushed through her veins and she felt the pounding of her heart in her ears. An enticing feeling, warm and sensual travelled from the deepest corners of her stomach throughout her whole system. She inhaled deeply through her nose. Warmth. Finally.
For an awful long time, neither of them spoke. And both knew that this was the last thing they would say to each other this evening. For her to turn around now would confirm what he had said, it would open up a world that was meant to stay hidden. Speaking to each other, to talk about it, would be admitting something that could not be admitted. By not communicating at this very moment, they would be able to move forward tomorrow. She knew that. And he knew that.
Clarisse had longed for this moment but for some reason she had always dreaded it; fearing it would hurt a thousand times more when knowing his true feelings without being able to return the love and comfort. And yet the opposite occurred as she was standing there in the kitchen, her back turned towards the man who haunted her dreams and occupied her heart. For now, the hurt and frustration she had felt earlier seemed to melt away inside her and was replaced by a deep and all consuming sensation that she needed now more than anything.
Hope.
Joseph breathed deeply as he looked at her, begging her silently to not respond, at least not yet. It was enough that he had said it, finally he had been able to say what he had been carrying in his heart for so long. A burden was lifted, his chest was suddenly light and free. For what seemed a decade, he had imagined this moment so often to the extent that his body had become a sleeping volcano. It had been practically safe to be around him but tonight he had erupted. If only just a bit. He had to force the volcano back to sleep and he knew he could. Now he had told her, he could. And so he got up. Slowly.
As Clarisse heard the crackling sound of the leather chair behind her, she tilted her head slightly. Like so many times before, at parties, during meetings, in sheer happiness and in deep mourning, she could not resist to glance aside. She had to find him.
They caught each other's glance the second he turned to exit the kitchen. It was brief, it was sudden and it was explosive. Clarisse blinked. Joseph swallowed. And then, as if they made a pact, a careful knowing smile appeared on both their faces.
And then both turned away from the other. Joseph sighed deeply as he closed the kitchen door behind him. One hand came up to cover his mouth and he shook his head quietely. His trembling hand wiped away his smile and he stored it somewhere deep. Perhaps to be used for another time, another place. Joseph straightened his jacket and walked towards the security center, his pace steady.
Clarisse flattened her hands on the kitchen counter, staring at the sparkling diamond on her hand. Beautiful, she mused. Her gaze moved to the window and she stared at the high walls and towers of her castle. Looking even higher, she glanced at the flag above the highest tower. It was powerful, majestic, elegant…and it was hers. She smiled, nodded proudly and then one hand folded around her warm, fluttery stomach. It was all hers.
God they loved their jobs.