Hello!

It has been a while again… My summer job was hectic and made me lazy/tired, but now, finally, I have more time to write! Well, perhaps not so much if I consider my studies, but at least a fraction more nevertheless!

So here is the next chap, albeit short.

BeardedTit

CHAPTER 12

Air wheezed in and out of Christine's nose.

So.

He had walked her to his car.

And put her in it.

Without saying a word.

And now they were travelling. To a destination unknown. Her breathing was getting harder, even though her focus was 100 % on the process moving air in and out of her lungs. If she panted out loud, would Destler throw her out of the moving car?

She dared a glimpse of him. He looked comfortable. Like silence was his comfort food. Son of an alien, he must be, she thought solemnly. But… most likely it was the control he was having, the absolute control of the situation that soothed his soul.

"We're here," he said suddenly, his bright eyes turning to her. Christine became slowly aware of surroundings and turned her head around to have a look, forgetting her difficulty to breath. Wait. A city street. A café?

Christine got out of the car and sighed. Destler truly was a pathetic case. He had to yell to a person so he could get company for a cup of cappuccino? But it felt good to have a breath of fresh air. She also wouldn't mind having a soda, something to cool down the nerves Destler had set on fire.

She started walking toward "Café Mocca", but Destler interfered. "Not there…" he corrected, and took Christine by the elbow, steering her to another direction.

"What…," Christine protested, annoyed by the manhandling and turned to look where he wanted her. The door next to the cafe. She read the title of the door with raised eyebrows. She could feel him just behind her, perhaps a mere inch away. No wonder. Her fists clenched.

She turned so quickly that Destler let out a small startled noise.

"Look! What is that thing on your shoe?" she whispered. Destler frowned and looked down. Christine took off and sprinted down the street.

"Unfortunately I have to cancel our meeting. My fiancé and I have encountered some unexpected problems. No… nothing… fatal. Just a little a mishap. Yes, there will still be a wedding."

Destler sighed and made another call.

"Dumbo. I am in a park. No, not taking a romantic walk," he grunted. "She… ran here. With an intention so stay a while, I suspect. So it might take an hour or two before we return."

Above Destler, in a tree, with trembling legs, Christine listened. He thought she was coming with him... Well, she wasn't sure about that.

"Christine. I know you are here."

Well, then. Why aren't you moving your head upwards?

"I'm having a déjà vu. I remember being six… Our cat, a very vicious cat fought with a dog. Had a gaping wound. She wasn't the only one. I got one too while trying to drag her to a vet. So, finally, the butler had to sedate her. It is easy to be wise afterwards, but we definitely should have sedated her immediately. Sometimes… pets just don't understand their best interest."

Yes. I am going to stay here until midnight. Then I'll go buy a gun…

"Christine…" His voice was moving towards the silky softness he rarely used.

That stupid, idiotic man. I should just jump down and wring his neck!

"Fine. Let's do it the hard way."

She waited until he left her sight before deciding to land. She knew he wasn't going to let her go easily, so it would be wisest to run. Sneaking around was his bravado.

In a few minutes she was nearing the end of the park, and grimaced when finally heard shuffling behind her. At least she had tried.

He grasped the back of her jacket.

"Let go!"

He didn't. In a Nano second, Christine resorted to a physical attack. She turned around and took a dive with her teeth and gnawed his wrist.

"You little devil!" he hissed and tossed her to the ground. Christine landed with a loud "oomph", her hair covering her face. Before she could get up, Destler landed on top of her, keeping her down with his weight.

"Do you think it is chivalrous to fight with a woman?" she asked after trying to bite his wrist again. With a fast move he glued her fists to the ground by his fingers which felt like nails to Christine.

"I don't make a difference between sexes. You definitely won't be an exception."

They had a short staring contest before Christine spat: "Nobody decides these things for me!"

"Don't you think your condition is abnormal?"

"I am not going to see a gynecologist!"

"Why not?"

Christine didn't reply.

"Why not?" he asked again. His eyes narrowed. "Are you crying?" he asked. He relented his hold on her and sat next to her. She turned to her side, away from him.

"Well?" he asked again.

"Well how does it look like?"

"I don't understand."

"Wouldn't be the first time…"

"So you've seen a gynecologist before, I assume?" he tried again after a while. Christine just closed her eyes.

"We can't stay here forever. It is going to rain soon."

"I'll survive. You go home. In fact, I won't be even returning. This wife thing sucks."

"You sound like a teenager," he said with an oddly gravelly voice. Suddenly, Christine felt like blushing. As if he only just now discovered what kind of a wife he had bought, seeing his future marred with numerous embarrassments she was going to cause. Then she chided herself for being childish – why should she care what he thought? No need to pretend around him again. He knew she wasn't rich, therefore didn't know the protocol of the "fine dinings", etc. The same old, the same old.

She felt relief when he didn't say anything, maybe had already left, but when she rolled to her back 90 seconds later, he was still sitting there, watching the trees for some reason. Christine watched his profile. He seemed serene all of a sudden.

"Christine… have you ever seen a doctor?" he asked.

She laughed.

"What is so funny?" he asked, irritated.

"You are walking on a very private ground here, mister. Now, stop breathing on my neck."

She rose to her feet. Destler was quick to follow, maybe readying himself for another escapade Christine might try.

"Can we go back now?" she asked.

"To the doctor?"

"No. I want to go back home. And get ready for opera."

"Fine," he whispered.

Back in the mansion she texted a message to Raoul.

"No need to come and get me. I'll meet you at the opera."