Chapter 9
For several long moments in which neither of us spoke, I stared down at his still form, the black of his clothing a stark contrast against the white of the mask, and the paleness of his skin. He did not look away but unnervingly, and with absolute unwavering focus stared up at me, his sinful mouth still formed into that smirk.
My mind desperately casting about for alternatives, I looked wildly around the rooftop; there was no other option but to go down. I had unwittingly put myself into the position of the mouse in this wicked game of his that he was intent upon playing out.
Taking a breath, mentally berating myself, I began to climb down, at one point my hand slipping and crying out foolishly before maintaining my grip.
Finally my feet touched solid ground, and I took a moment, my eyes fixed unseeing on the smooth stone of the statue, to smooth my skirts and sweep a loose curl behind my ear. He can only intimidate you if you give him the power to. With that mantra repeated throughout my head, I turned to face him.
And found him no more thanscant inches in front of me.
I stepped back with a startled gasp and he merely stepped forward. How had he moved so quickly and quietly?
He raised his visible brow in a mocking gesture and waited, as still as death itself.
I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm, but his scent drifted through my head once more and I lost my focus. I shook my head slightly and looked him in his eyes, preparing to give him a thorough verbal thrashing, but lost my train of thought. He had beautiful eyes.
Before I could gather my wits once more and speak, he did so first:
"How...fortunate...that we meet again so soon, Mademoiselle Genevieve. It appears that I may not have to write that letter after all." His voice was low and seemed to seep into my senses, every word that of a gentleman, every word containing a promise of a threat.
Tilting my chin at a stubborn angle, looking up at him, while trying to look down at him, I spoke, hoping some of my so very rapidly depleting steel would come through my voice:
"What do you want, Monsieur?" I stared at him, hard, feeling the self-righteous anger beginnning to bloom again. He can only intimidate you if you give him to power to.
I would do what he said, but I would not do it lying down.
He narrowed his eyes and his face hardened. He stepped even closer and my breath left my body in a whoosh as his frame once again pressed to mine. I closed my eyes ashamed of the fact that even after all I'd gone through with Armand, I could still be intimidated by sheer size and strength, and though I was a tall woman and by no means a frail creature, he stood several inches over me and was twice as wide, no doubt every inch of it lean muscle and solid bone.
"I would think that by now, Mademoiselle, that would be clear to you. You don't strike me as a stupid woman. Do not make me alter my perceptions." His breath was a hot assault against my face and I kept my eyes closed, feeling all the while like the scared girl of twenty I'd been when Armand first began to show his true colors. I began to shiver.
Suddenly I was bereft of the heat of his body, and I opened my eyes to see if he had grown tired of my timidity, but found him striding back to me, his movements catlike and powerful at the same time, seeming to move to a music only he could hear. My cloak was tossed over his arm. He whipped it out and flung it at me. I reached to catch it, but my hands clapped in mid-air, the cloak having fallen short by bare inches and when I looked at him, I understood that he hadn't meant to have me catch it. I felt the hot sting of tears at the back of my eyes and I kneeled before him to pick up the cloak and wrap it numbly about me. I felt like nothing more than a fool.
He began to circle me, slowly. I lifted my eyes to his, but didn't follow his gaze as he came around behind me. I felt him stop. Neither of us moved. My heart was pounding and I felt like each breath was a monumental undertaking. I knew what the mouse felt like when stared down by the hungry cat. My mantra of earlier seemed to do me no good now. It was impossible to take the upper hand now, I had shown too much fear and once again I wondered where the confident Genevieve who had taken the reins of her new life so well had gone. She's fled with her tail tucked between her legs, that's where.
My heart took up its race with even more determination when I felt the slide of his body against my own once more. What was his game? I did not honestly believe that he wanted me in any carnal sense. It seemed much more likely that he was using the physical as a means to intimidate.
His breath was warm and directly against me. When next he spoke, I felt the almost imperceptible movement of his lips against my ear:
"I think, my dear, that I know what I shall be needing next. A task which, I'm certain, you are more than capable of handling." He stepped closer, if it was even possible and his hands came up, grasping my hips on either side. Even through my cloak and gown and petticoat, I felt the force of his grip. He turned me toward him and I found myself staring at his mmaculate cravat.
A gloved hand raised my chin to look at him. I closed my eyes, shutting them tightly. One hand moved to the small of my back, and I once again had the hateful sensation of being small.
"Open your eyes." The command was soft, but there was no doubt in my mind that it was an order to be obeyed. I slowly opened them and raised my gaze to him. I let my hate for him show. He smiled, a slow, devastating smile that contained no real touch of warmth. It was a smile that made me feel cold down to my bones. "That's better." He removed the hand from my chin and brushed back a strand of my hair. I barely restrained my reaction to his touch.
"Now, this is what you will do." And just like the night before, his voice lowered, became compelling, giving meevery hintthat if I refused him, there would be hell to pay.
"I find myself lacking in clothing. The mass of idiots that worked at this Opera House last fall nearly destroyed everything I owned. I've had to wear tattered clothing, which I find unacceptable." He moved even closer and I could no longer even breathe without my breasts pressing to his chest in mock intimacy.
"Therefore, my industrious little seamstress,I want you to create for me four suits, much like the one I am currently wearing which your capable hands made. Four waistcoats, one black, one forest, one dark gold, one navy. Each suit will include a shirt to be made exactly like this one, and four cravats as well, black. You will also procure for me two sets of gold cuff links and one cravat pin, also gold. And I believe, one more set of gloves, much like these." He lifted the hand at my waist and trailed one finger down my temple and to my lips. "Leather, the finest you can manage." My eyes slid closed as his thumb swept across my bottom lip. I caught myself, and reopened them glaring at him.
He chuckled softly, an altogether menacing sound. "We all let our masks slip, don't we, Genn." He lowered his head, his eyes becoming dark and glinting beneath his heavy lids. I knew he was going to kiss me and I traitorously felt my eyes slide slowly closed and my lips soften.
When his lips were but a bare touch away from mine, and I found myself wondering what I would do if he made to take me on the roof top, he whispered, "Au revoir, mademoiselle." And he shoved me away. I stumbled and tripped on my skirts landing hard on my bottom. When I looked up in outrage at his audacity, he was gone.
I stood, brushing my cloak and skirts, my breath slowly coming back, my heart calming, and I realized with shock that I didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed that he had not closed the distance between my mouth and his.
I covered my mouth, holding back a sob. Why me? Why did you choose me to manipulate?
As I sunk to the cold ground and began to sob aloud I realized that I was the only one who had a past that he could use. I had stepped into this Opera house, the perfect pawn in his game.
I wondered where this could possibly lead and to what consequences.
Marie and Jeanette found me in the hallway outside my chamber, pulling the key from my cloak.
My hair was mussed and my face was still flushed from crying in the air that had rapidly chilled sincehe had left me. I raised my red rimmed eyes to them. They came forward with a concerned cry.
"Genevieve! What ever is the matter?" Marie took my cold hands between her warm ones and gently squeezed.
"You look terrible! Have you been crying!" Jeanette came behind her sister, putting her hands on Marie's arms. I looked into their innocent cornflower blue eyes and knew I couldn't taint them with devastating events of the night out of their presence. I took a breath and plastered a sunny smile on my face.
"Oh, no! I'm perfectly fine! I'm afraid that after you left with your beaus, it turned quite windy and chilly. It fairly burned my eyes. But the view was so lovely, I didn't want to leave."
I finished, sighing happily while inside I was groaning at how contrived the story sounded. But both the girls, so artless and innocent of the deception of others, immediately brightened and exclaimed over how happy they were that I was not upset.
"Oh, but Genevieve, you missed dinner. We took our picnic to the cafe after we could not find you, and I'm afraid Jean and Pierre ate your portion."
I was hungry, but the Opera cafe was already closed at this late hour and I did not have the stomach to steal for myself. I would have to remain hungry until morning when I could go down and have my habitual coffee and brioche. I smiled and reassured the twins that I would be fine. They reluctantly left me to seek their own beds at the other end of the corridor and I wearily turned into my room.
My eyes were immediately drawn to the dresser where a plate sat, a chunk of bread, a wedge of cheese, and some grapes arranged upon it, with a glass of red wine sat beside. A black edged envelope and a rose sat propped against the glass.
I could not allow my favorite seamstress to become weak with hunger, now could I?
O.G.