It was raining. Again. I frowned at the stained glass window of my office as it lashed against it in a near constant drizzle. It reminded me, instantly, why London is often called 'dreary'. I'd even caught Stellan scowling about it a couple times in the last few weeks. I'm sure he was missing Paris and their possibly better weather patterns. But if I heard Jack tell me one more time that 'there's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing' I was going to strangle him with his scarf. Maybe we could both just pick up and move to Mexico. My mind instantly wandered back to the excursion he'd planned for me before we left. The light filtering through the bamboo and banana trees, flickering across us as a wind heady with the smell of roasting coffee swept over our group. His warm fingers sliding along the bare skin on the small of back, causing a flush of goosebumps, as we hung back from the two other couples peppering the tour guide with questions about how organic the coffee really was. And that small smirk I'd never seen before when all my digging questions made him think back to his friends in Russia before the fire.
My daydream was broken up by Zara Kohnings happy voice,
"I'm sure Valentina will have a lot to contribute to this Circle woman's summit as well. She's the only other female Circle heir in a situation like mine."
"I never had a chance to meet the Martín's," I put my phone on speaker and set it on my desk, "so it will be interesting."
Elodie tapped my arms and I held them out horizontally as she wrapped her measuring tape around my hips, nodding appreciatively. I let out the breath I'd been holding. We were doing final measurements for all my upcoming holiday couture and for the first time, ever, Elodie wouldn't have to have them all taken in.
"I'm sure she will be very anxious to meet with you." Zara's usually cheerful voice dropped into a stage whisper, "Mateo has been causing them quite a bit of drama recently with all his antics."
"Indeed," I lied. I'd have to have Elodie fill me in on that.
"Thank you again, Your Majesty. I am forever grateful for your understanding."
"Of course, Zara, I'll see you in a week."
As Elodie slid the tape up to my waist I leaned over and ended the call.
"What is so strange," Elodie drawled as she cinched the pink measuring tape, "is that you don't even seem to know you're speaking in another language."
"I did it again, didn't I?"
"I know every single time I have to switch over to English for you. I can't even imagine what's happening in Stellan's brain."
I slumped, fatigued and grumpy and feeling like a disgruntled American today. Maybe it was my biased thoughts that everyone should be speaking English. Or perhaps that we continued to all dance around the reason my brain had been hard-wired for Afrikaans. But mostly, it was because I should have been sitting down to a giant turkey and a gelatinous mass of canned cranberries right now. It was Thanksgiving, and I was multitasking instead of in a food coma.
There was a polite knock and then Gemma entered with her dreaded notebook of tasks to complete for all our upcoming events. Elodie released her measuring tape with a snap and I melted into my chair, pulling out a pen from my drawer. Gemma set down the list of contracts I needed to sign without even telling me what they were. I was happy she and I trusted each other enough now that we could just keep powering through all these tasks. I turned to Elodie as I signed,
"Who is Mateo Martín and why is he causing their Family so much trouble?"
Elodie laughed, her back to me, as she shoved all her supplies into her purse.
"Mateo Martín is the reason Luc was banned from Ibiza for a year."
"Why didn't we meet this Family when we were in Spain?" I rose an eyebrow at her. Gemma slid another stack of contracts in front of me seamlessly.
"Other than the threat of imminent death and needing to stay off the radar?" She smiled brightly at me.
I gave her a glare in return. Gemma whisked away all my paperwork only to replace it with the checklist of doom. I still had months until the Leap Year Ball was going to take place here at Riberton, but Gemma already had me crossing out things I didn't like. She always gave me a visual example of what she was proposing so I could easily circle or X through them. It was both efficient and kind because she could only seem to catch me in the middle of some other meeting. Today's list was centered around table settings.
"The Martín's have always been the most relaxed Circle Family when it comes to customs and propriety," Elodie answered, dropping her purse into the chair next to her and taking a seat in front of my desk. "Plus, they have to worry about Mateo."
"I have more questions than answers now." I rolled my eyes and then pulled out a red pen from my drawer so I could put an X through Waterford Crystal Goblets.
Elodie propped her red-bottoms on the edge of my desk and I noticed, from the corner of my eye, Gemma's mouth turn down ever so slightly at the corners. She, however, remained standing rigidly proper in waiting.
"It was long rumored that Sophia, their mother, was barren. Basically a death sentence in the Circle because of the emphasis on heirs."
"So I've heard," I nodded and crossed out gaudy looking gold plates, only to realize they probably were actual gold. I put a second X through them.
"When she ended up having twins, in her 40s, it pretty much confirmed there had been fertility issues. But now their problem was solved as long as they kept their son alive. And he has done a spectacular job of trying to thwart that plan."
"How? Why?" I crossed out gold silverware as well, the list finished for today. Gemma gathered all her papers and left with a curt nod. I cracked my knuckles as I waited.
Elodie glanced toward the door to make sure it was closed and then answered, "the how is easy. Coke. He has a legendary cocaine habit."
"Oh," I blanched and shoved all my pens back into the drawer, "I guess I shouldn't be that surprised."
"You'd be the only one." She smirked.
I gave her a peculiar look. It seemed pretty obvious to me. Famous people were always in and out of rehab. With that much money, it made sense that statistically speaking there would be at least one drug addict in the Circle.
"When you turn 17 and take the tattoo all your antics beforehand have to stop. It's the formal acknowledgment of your future in the Family. This is taken very seriously."
"But not by Mateo?"
She shook her head, "he refused to get the tattoo."
My eyes bugged and I sucked in a startled gasp. "Why?"
"He wasn't done having fun. And I guess he still isn't, even though he's almost 26 now." She made a disgusted face.
"And they just let this happen?" If that was an option I would have liked to know. Not that I would have had much of a choice, but still.
"Of course not. But what could they do? If they pushed too hard he might kill himself just to spite them. They can't have any more children, and the heir has to be male." She stopped and gave a genuine smile. "Until now."
"Ahh," I smiled back. "I see."
"Everyone knows Valentina has been running that Family since she was 17. She should be the rightful heir. But it gets even more complicated for them because she's not…"
"Interested?" I guessed.
"Straight," Elodie flatly replied.
My mouth dropped open and I sucked in a quick gasp.
"I've been telling Luc for years they should work something out between them. But with the age difference and all the rumors...it would just make it too obvious. But," she punctuated, "that was all before your decree. Now all the rules have changed."
"Oh wow," I muttered, leaning back to look up at the map on the ceiling. I had to admit that I'd been thinking mostly about Luc when Elodie and I had decided on that order. But to know that she was thinking of at least one more person in the Circle it could benefit made me wonder just how much dirt she had on everyone. It made that old feeling of unease about her rise up through our slowly building friendship.
"But don't you see the beautiful chaos you've created?" Elodie said, breaking up my thoughts. "The very thing they thought would bring the Circle together, keep it at the status quo, is tearing it apart. And all of this has absolutely nothing to do with Stellan."
"Sort of makes sense why we keep having the same issues with the same Family's. They all have male heirs. Especially the Melech's." I settled deeper into my chair, letting all the varied angles of this bounce around inside my brain.
Elodie just made this small shrug in response. I looked harder at her as she narrowed her eyes to a spot on her coveted shoes. Honestly, I'd been expecting more impassioned declarations from her. With a frown at her shoes, she looked up, surprised to find me watching, and scowled,
"That Family. Have you considered my proposal more?"
"I have," I hedged, and stood moving toward the bar cart next to the stained glass window. It had booze on it, of course, but Gemma also stocked it with flavored bubbly waters and other mixers for me.
"And," Elodie crossed her arms, feet still on my desk, and tilted her head toward me.
I cracked open a bottle of Pellegrino and took a long sip before shaking my head, "can't we think of something else?"
"There is nothing else unless you want me to learn Photoshop." She sat up straight, her heels stomping onto the wood floors. "I don't see what the big deal is here."
"They're very personal, Elodie. I don't want to share that." I turned away from her pretending to fix all the knick-knacks on the shelving behind my desk so she couldn't see my raging blush.
"You're public domain now. You don't have a private life. And since the two of you absolutely refuse to stage a wedding I need to use something to break up this news cycle the Meleck's are currently dominating." She finished with a huff of indignation and I took in a deep breath trying to hold back the snappy tone I wanted to have.
She had been fighting me about this for days now. Her 'proposal' was to use the pictures from Mexico to plant a story about the two of us going on some 'half-honeymoon' trip. It was unfortunate that David Meleck had passed away unexpectedly while we were in Mexico, but that didn't necessitate her publicizing the most private part of my life for a competitive edge. We had caught a lot of flack for not being at the funeral, but there wasn't a logistical way we could have made it back in time considering how fast Jewish burials are. I understood the need to wrestle back control over the news feed, but there was no way I was going to let her take this trip from me.
"No," I evenly replied. "They would just make us look worse if you juxtapose the two of us laughing on a beach against a funeral. It would be the British Museum all over again."
"That's all I have!" She threw her hands out and stood to pace in front of my desk.
"I find that very hard to believe."
"What is your suggestion then?" She snapped at me and I felt myself flinch in reaction to her out of character aggression about this. But she didn't notice, she was still pacing, thinking out loud as she continued with,
"I'll have to comb through everyone's phones to find some that could fit the narrative best."
Anger started to override my calm and I tried to force it back down, flatly saying, "don't make me tell you again."
"Or what?" She challenged, crossing her arms. My temper broke through my control and I battled the urge to hurl my bottle across the room in my rage. I set it down slowly and carefully, watching her frown falter the longer I took.
"It's an order now." I put my hands on the desk and glared right back at her. "If I ever see those pictures anywhere but on our phones, I'm going to blame you. Understood?"
"Compris, votre majesté." She gave me a deep bow and then snatched her purse off the chair and stormed out, the door slamming behind her.
I grabbed my Pellegrino, squeezing as hard as I dared to breathe down the potentially spiraling anger of my PCS that was getting harder and harder to control lately. It wasn't helping. The room felt too small to contain my building explosion. Plus it was full of priceless shit I really shouldn't be destroying because Elodie pissed me off. I glanced out the window to see it had finally stopped raining, I grabbed my coat. I had to get out of here.
Slipping through one of the hidden panels, I walked down the back hallways and out onto the side of the manor. It was the garage side, where all the drivers and cars would wait until they were summoned. Since we were supposed to be inside all day I knew I was going to have a rare moment of privacy out in this rain. The snap of cold, humid air made my lungs shake as I took in a long breath and let my heels crunch in all the wet gravel on my way down one of the paths toward the garage.
I smelled it first, the cigarette smoke, then the sound of feet shuffling, and a cough before,
"It's proper pay, but I'll never get that Porsche 918 on just this salary."
"Like you could get one of those working anywhere else."
The second voice let out a little laugh and I watched as a plume of smoke swirled up into the gray sky. I took a crunching step backward, I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, that hadn't been the point of fleeing my warm office.
"That's why I've been chatting up a Dauphin driver about this."
There was a small sound I couldn't place, then a whistle from one of them before another long exhale, the smoke hung in the air above them like a small cloud.
"That'd fetch you plenty I reckon." The second voice said.
"Oh, it has, mate. Had to get a stronger batch this time. Those St. Lucia's girls eat 'em like candy."
The rage flooded me. The boiling, unruly kind I couldn't control, warming my body better than my heavy jacket was. For fucking real? The driver was a drug dealer? Did we have to do everything ourselves? Didn't Jack screen all these assholes?
My heels started stomping across the gravel before I'd even registered the movement. I stormed past the topiary hedge that had been concealing me before and watched them both turn around to face me, in surprise, before automatically straightening in fear. One was clenching a small bag in his palm, the corner sticking out before he shifted his hands behind his back, the other swung his hands behind his back, cigarette still lit. They were younger than I would have expected.
"Your Majesty," they both stumbled and stuttered over the words, bowing their heads.
I held out my hand to the second one, his shirt untucked and hanging out under his suit jacket. He swung his hands back in front of himself and I grabbed his newly lit cigarette out of his fingers, holding it between my thumb and pointer finger, staring down the other one as I tried to breathe. My heart was pounding in my chest from the rage. I took a deep breath, my intimidation wouldn't be very effective if I couldn't get the words out without panting.
The first driver was flushing, these bright spots of color on his cheeks despite the freezing temperatures. The smoke wafted up toward me as a bitter wind whipped down the path between us. I tossed the butt at the feet of the second driver the orange embers instantly sliding deep into a puddle.
"You too, give it to me," I ordered, holding out my hand to the first driver. He swallowed hard and then held out the baggie filled with small, white circles. I snatched it from his palm.
"Your Majesty I can explain," he croaked.
I shook my head, "your badge too."
He pulled it from his inside jacket pocket and reluctantly handed it over, not making eye contact. I looked at his grinning face on the picture and then clenched it tight in my fist, "you're on Anya's detail, aren't you?"
"Ah, shite," the second driver cursed under his breath.
I tucked the drugs and badge into the pocket of my jacket and nodded, "your jackass pal over here is having the right reaction."
"Please, Your Majesty, I can explain," he started but abruptly stopped from the look I leveled at him.
"Report to Roberts. I need to decide how I'm going to deal with you. You too asshole."
"Your Majesty," they both bowed and quickly took off around the side of the house. I waited until I couldn't hear their crunching steps anymore before I sucked in a deep breath, the frigid air burning my lungs and forcing a cough. I let out a few more steamy breaths, attempting to get control of the rage monster building in my chest before moving back into the house. I had to find Jack.
I flung open the door for the back hallway, then started storming through the main house until I reached our wing, slamming the door open and yelling out,
"Jack!"
Elodie popped her head up from the other side of the couch and then nodded toward Stellan's office, following quickly behind me. I shoved the cracked door open and watched as Jack and Stellan snapped to attention at the desk.
"Kuklachka, what's wrong?" Stellan was the first to ask. I ignored him, still steaming toward Jack. I grabbed the badge out of my pocket and threw it at him. He caught it mid-air, as Elodie settled against Stellan's chair, her head cocked in open curiosity. I stopped in front of him, crossing my arms,
"I thought you were personally screening all these motherfuckers."
"Slow down," he held his palms out toward me, the badge pressed between two fingers and searched my face for a moment. "What happened?"
"I caught this stellar hire bragging about how he's been selling Molly he bought off one of the Dauphin drivers."
"What?!" All three of them shouted in unison. I nodded and jutted my chin toward the badge still pressed between his fingers.
"Why don't you look at that name and tell me why I'm so pissed about this?"
He quickly flipped the badge up so he could read the name and his face fell. I waited, the silence building with the tension in his jaw, but he still didn't say anything, so I took a step toward him and quietly warned,
"You know how seriously I take her security. Especially now with all this extra coverage we've been having."
"I do," he shot in and gave me a pacifying look, but I was too worked up.
"Not only does this compromise her safety, but the Saxon part of this whole circus can't take a scandal like that right now."
"It was a mistake," he said in an even tone, shoving the badge into the pocket of his slacks.
"Except now there are two people in our private detail you signed off on that couldn't be trusted."
"I find that very insulting." His voice rose with indignation as his eyes widened on his face.
"I don't." I crossed my arms, clenching my jaw so I didn't immediately unload onto him.
Stellan and Elodie froze at the desk from my peripheral vision and my arm fluttered with tingles of pain. It didn't help calm me. Jack continued to just stand there, flabbergasted, looking like he was ready for me to apologize to him. There was no fucking way.
"You grew up here. You considered these people your family, they were grooming you for greatness. And when you abandoned them to leave with Stellan and me, you were labeled a traitor to the Circle." I stopped to take a breath as he shifted on his feet, uneasy. "Except now you've come back to the same exact place as the Keeper of the Watch for the 13th Family."
"What is your point?" He crossed his arms as well, narrowing his eyes at me.
"You have conflicting loyalties and you're resting on your laurels. I need to know that you haven't become complacent because we came back here and that you're loyal to us now."
"Of course I am," he snapped.
I looked him up and down. "We'll see."
"Avery," Stellan warned, his voice quiet and even. I knew what that tone was for. We both ignored him.
"Despite everything that's gone wrong in the past between the two of us I still trust you, Jack." I nodded to emphasize. "But I am starting to question your judgment."
"I'll take care of this," he growled.
I closed the space between us and lowly threatened, "you better."
With a tight nod, he turned and stormed out of the room, Elodie quick on his heels, whispering in French to him as the door swung shut behind them. I threw my hands over my face and turned away from Stellan's silent examination. We both knew what had been driving a lot of that. But like every time before that my PCS had turned on me, it hadn't been without merit. It was like it amplified what I was already feeling to bring me to a level I felt like everyone else was always functioning at. I'd been taught my whole life how to blend in, play nice, and keep things to myself. Only to be thrown up against three people with such commanding personalities I felt lost amongst them most of the time. I'd take the edge, especially on something as important as this.
I heard Stellan's desk creak as he stood and dropped my hands, exhaling and glaring at the fire. This also marked the second time today I had to put our friends in their 'place'. It was too fucking weird. The multiplicity of my life was overwhelming. Where was the line? How would I ever know if I crossed it? Did they even feel this same kind of horrible guilt? Or had they both been conditioned so much by the Circle that it didn't seem bizarre to them? Did they even consider themselves my friends?
Stellan's fingers trailed through the bottom of my hair, twisting it around as he waited for me to say the first thing. It was something he'd started doing recently, so he could gauge my mood. But I didn't want his reassurance right now, I needed some more space to sort all this out. If I'd done the right thing as a Queen, if I'd done the wrong thing as a friend, if Hugo Dauphin was trying to fuck with us by selling our driver Molly. My life was so weird.
"Have you talked to your…"
"No," I cut him off. He dropped his fingers from their tangling.
"Are you ever going to?" He grumbled more to himself than anything. But I whirled on him, still too keyed up to act rationally.
"All that would accomplish is a potential leak of incredibly damaging information we've managed to somehow keep under wraps right now."
"Order doctors." He slowly replied eyeing me cautiously but standing his ground.
"What?"
He pressed his lips together at my tone but then calmly answered, "all of your doctors are Order doctors. Even if you needed a...new one it would be an Order member as your doctor."
I glared at him. I knew what he meant by 'new', it was code for a shrink. I crossed my arms over my chest, "until that person is compromised."
"Fair enough," he sighed. "Will you consider it?"
I spun away from him and took a step toward the fire in response. It was obviously time to meet with someone about my broken brain. But it sure as shit wasn't going to be today. I frowned remembering again it was Thanksgiving. It made me feel even more isolated from the group, tyrannical Queen rants aside. I wondered if I could covertly ask the chef to whip together something for me without having everyone make fun of my nostalgia.
"I didn't think it was possible but you are even more adorable when you pout," Stellan said giving the ends of my hair a light tug. He gave them a final twirl and then moved back to his desk grabbing his jacket and phone. I stuck my tongue out at him, his gentle teasing slowly erasing my anger. He was like my own personal bomb squad.
"It's not pouting when you're right."
"Then what," he lowly asked stopping in front of me to lean down and kiss the corners of my frown, "is this?"
"Pumpkin pie withdrawals," I grumbled.
He straightened, his eyebrows scrunching on his forehead as he buttoned his jet black pea coat. I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the itchy wool and breathed him in for a minute, chanting internally - don't go, don't go, don't go.
"You want me to cancel?" He quietly asked, his hand cupping the back of my head. I forced myself to shake out a no as I took a deep breath of fireplace smoke and cologne and damp wool. I was trying very hard not to cross into openly needy territory. Elodie and Jack were going to give me a wide berth the rest of the night after my outbursts, and his Order meeting was in town.
"You want me to buy you pie?" He laughed a little as he pressed a kiss on the crown of my head and let go. I pulled away from him as well and brightened with a small grin.
"The best pumpkin pie in the city. And real whipped cream, not the canned stuff."
"As you wish," he smirked and then glanced at his phone on his way toward the front of the house.
The popping and crackling of the fire sounded loud in the room now, triggering the slight buzz of my tinnitus as background white noise. I moved closer to the fire as I waited for it to subside and shoved my hands into my pockets, my fingers making contact with the bag of Molly. This time, now that I knew I didn't have an audience, I let the pathetic sounding whine come out with my exhale. I had to find Jack after all. He'd probably want the hard evidence when he accused the guy and to set it on fire or flush it down the toilet or whatever you did to discard illegal drugs.
I made my way toward the front of the house, gritting my teeth at having to see Jack again so soon after our spat only to see my saving grace. Gemma.
"Ma'am," she nodded toward me.
"Have you seen Jack?" I glanced around the living room as if he'd materialize.
"Mr. Bishop is in the basement I believe."
That stopped me cold. I'd been calling it such sinister things in my mind basement seemed benign. You had parties and played air hockey in a basement. I could feel Gemma watching me as I battled with my decision on what to do next. On the one hand, I could just hang onto the Molly until I saw him later, take a super long bath and watch Love, Actually on our giant TV in our room until Stellan came home with my pie. On the other hand, I should be following through on all the threats I keep making to my...staff. If I wasn't holding Jack accountable for everything I was demanding from him how could I ever be taken seriously? And as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was going to have to go down there eventually.
"Ma'am?" Gemma broke up my turmoil and I snapped my eyes back to her.
"Thank you, it's just that panel at the end of the hallway, right?"
"Correct," she gave me a curt nod. I clenched my hand around the Molly in my pocket and started walking before I could psych myself out.
From the hallway, you couldn't hear or see anything that would indicate it was a secret entrance. But the longer I lived here the more and more of these push panels I was finding, one in almost every room. I slid my fingers along the seam in the panel and then pushed at the solid oak trim that separated the two different types of wallpaper. A soft click could be heard and then the wall popped out into my hand to reveal the fake panel and steel door.
I turned the cold knob and held my breath, hoping it would be locked so I could turn around and a least say I tried. It opened. My whole body tensed and then I pushed through the discomfort and made myself start going down the set of concrete stairs. A woozy feeling of apprehension came over me with every step down. It reminded me too much of the tomb, the only difference here being that the lights weren't jimmy rigged or the smell cloying and claustrophobic. With sinking dread, I realized it was because this was supposed to be used all the time, not once in a lifetime.
At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped, surprised. I was expecting to see a series of cells like I'd been detained in underneath the Louvre or some kind of Silence of the Lambs shit. Instead, it stopped in front of two doors, one was about five steps in front of me across the landing, the other was to my right. The one in front had the door ajar and I took a steadying breath and slowly inched it open. It was a command room.
There weren't any windows on the three remaining walls, only giant TVs that had split-screen views of point all over the property. It filled the room with an artificial bluish glow, enough to make out the gist of the space but not enough light to see details. Across all the screens you could see the usual run of the mill domestic events, the gardeners raking up leaves, tons of empty rooms where the art and ancient furniture were held, even the formal kitchen where it appeared all the house staff was having their dinner. There were only two things that weren't on these giant TV's - our private wing and whatever was behind that second door.
Beneath them, smaller screens were placed across the desk that ran the length of the room. There were three empty chairs with matching amounts of keyboards and mice. On two of them was the same thing - a split screen of six boxes. Two of the boxes were pitch black, two more showcased simple, lit, cells that you would expect to see in prison, but the final two boxes were of different angles of a large white room. When I looked to the third desktop screen I could tell it was showing one of those camera angles. There were stacks of metal chairs pushed into a corner, and a drain in the center of the smooth concrete floor, but otherwise it was a blank, white, space.
I heard a door open and jumped, whirling around to expect some kind of attack, only to realize it was coming through unseen speakers somewhere on the desk. Bodies ambled onto the screen with shuffling and huffs until five people were in the room. I instantly recognized Jack's back. Then Roberts to Jack's left and one of the guards he'd been training for my security team on his right. Finally, the last two back turned toward the camera as they stood against the white wall - the drivers.
I glanced around the control room as if it could tell me what to do next. Clearly, they were in the process of reprimanding the drivers so I didn't have to stay. I didn't have to hand the Molly over to Jack either, I could just place it on this command table and then text him that I'd left it there. That seemed like the smart thing to do at this point. I started pulling the baggie out of my pocket when I heard a clicking tongue noise and then,
"So inconvenient."
Roberts shook his head as he took them in, clicking his tongue again. It made my skin crawl. Something about all of this felt very wrong. I turned to the door when I heard Jack's voice next,
"You knew the rules when you signed up, Trevor."
"I'm sorry," the driver I'd caught immediately started to grovel, hands pleading, shaking. "Please! Please!"
"What do you think?" Jack ignored him and turned to Roberts.
"Your hire, your fire," Robert's shrugged.
A flood of blood cooling panic raced through me, freezing me in place. This alarm started going off in my head to flee, turn, at least close my eyes but it was muted against the horror unfolding in slow motion in front of me. I knew what was going to happen. Roberts had, for sure, murdered that maid that was leaking information to the press. Except it was Jack that reached behind his back and swung out his gun, finger already on the trigger. I gasped. The driver flinched, barely strangling out,
"No! Pl…"
BANG!
The Molly slipped from my hand spilling on the ground as I jerked in reaction, everything curling inward and my eyes, finally, closing. I kept them focused at the ground and hit my knees, sloppily shoving all the drugs back into the bag with shaking hands. With them all back in my possession I looked back at the screen to see a smear of blood on the wall where the driver's body had been and the terrified accomplice, eyes closed, feverishly whispering to himself, as if he was praying.
"Look at me," Jack ordered in this harsh and unapologetic tone I would have never known was him unless I'd seen it come out of his mouth on the screen. He stepped over the body as he moved in on the terrified driver when he didn't reply. The driver forced his eyes open, but his lips never stopped moving, slowly curling into himself and away from the threat in front of him.
"That's what happens when you put the 13th Family at risk. Did I make myself clear?" Jack questioned, his voice remorseless and even toned. It made it seem even more terrifying.
"Crystal," the driver choked, shaking, keeping direct eye contact like if he moved he might be next.
"Make sure you remind everyone else of that." Jack gave him one last glance and then turned away to look at the body on the ground, waving him off with, "dismissed."
I ran. Up the stairs, the metal door banging behind me in my haste, down the hall, into the private wing and then stood there in the middle of the living room unsure where to go next. All I had inside me was panic, the adrenaline making my heart thud hard against my ribs and my hands shake. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't like being in such a wide open space. I dashed for my office, slamming the door shut behind me and pacing the floor in front of my desk trying to work through all my shock. I shoved my shaking hands into my pockets and felt the Molly bag again and ripped it out, darting around my desk to shove it into a drawer and slam that closed as well.
Pain welled in three out of the four of my fingers and I pressed my lips together so I didn't scream. I yanked my fingers out from the drawer and saw the bruise instantly start blooming. I had to calm down, there had to be something I could do. I spun in place, holding my injured hand to my chest and spotted the bar cart. I dove for it, tossing the lid off the vodka bottle onto the cart with a plunk and taking a quick slug of it straight from the source. It burned all the way down and I let out a giant cough before forcing down another one. The mix of pain and booze distracted me just enough from my panic to take a deep breath. As I exhaled, I flexed my fingers, winced and then heard my doorknob rattle. It had to be Stellan. I whirled around right as the door swung open and came face to face with Jack.
"Gemma said you were looking for me?" He asked with a bright smile.
"No," I blurted and then clenched my mouth shut, unable to trust it.
His smile started to falter a little, his eyes taking in all my telltale signs that I was in duress.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine," I blurted again. "I have to get ready, excuse me."
It was the worst possible lie. We all knew each other's schedules now and I had nothing left to do tonight. His eyes darted from my still red and bruising fingers, to the cap on the bar cart, to the flush I knew was covering my face as he opened the door wider for me.
"Sure," he nodded, but couldn't hide his suspicion.
I kept considerate space between us as I moved around him on my way out and then forced myself not to run to my room. I even managed to get the door closed quietly before the panic started to rule me again. Did I lock my door? No, that would be too suspicious. But he had no problem coming in here before to talk to me, even though it was our private bedroom. I had to do something that would ensure he didn't come in. My eyes fell on the bathroom and I started ripping all my clothes off, tossing them at the ground as I made my way to the mini pool we called a tub. I turned the water as hot as it could go and sunk in, submerging myself until the sound of my tinnitus was the only thing I could hear in my head.
Andrew Lincoln's character started flipping through his slightly creepy romantic gesture cue cards for Kiera Knightly when our bedroom door finally opened. I paused the movie on her surprised face as Stellan quietly made his way into the room. He was still in his peacoat and holding a brown paper bag with some kind of design on the front. When he turned around his eyes went wide with surprise. To be fair I normally passed out before 11PM.
"Why are you awake moi malenkii omar?"
I rose an eyebrow at the Russian as he tossed his jacket at the chair near the door and made his way over with the bag. He set it down on the bed next to me and then ran a cold thumb across my still warmed cheek.
"Crab?" I guessed.
"Lobster," he gave me a faint smile and kicked his shoes off, settling into the bed next to me, staring so hard at the screen it was as if he was trying to look through it. All the tension the movie had distracted me from started to build back up at his silence. But then he shook his head a few times and opened the bag, pulling out the box of pie and little containers of whipped cream, complete with takeaway cutlery.
I broke my fork free from the wrapping and shoved it right into the center of the pie. My fork carved out a big glob and I forced it down over the welling of tears trying to build back up in my throat. He hit play on the remote, settling in and taking the pie from me to take his own giant bite.
We sat there, in perfect quiet, spreading crumbs over the sheets as we watched the rest of Love Actually together. As the credits started to roll I pushed the half-eaten pie away from myself, the panic and tears building another ball in my throat. When I looked over he was staring through the screen again, lost in thought, and so distant from me this prickling of worry percolated up through all my own whirling emotions.
"Thanksgiving," was the first thing he said, still looking at the credits scrolling up the screen.
"Yep," I nodded.
"Sorry," he finally looked over at me, huge bags under his eyes and this line of tension on his forehead I wanted to smooth out with my finger. "I forget these things sometimes."
"American holidays? I wouldn't worry about it." I grabbed the remote and turned the system off.
"No," he said, pushing the pie and supplies back into the paper bag, "things that would make you feel more at home."
The tears forced their way up into my eyes and I quickly wiped them away as he turned from me, putting the pie on the ground next to his side of the bed. It made me feel adored and horrible all at the same time because that thought had never crossed my mind for him. I wouldn't even know something that would make him feel more at home. Would it be something he did in France, with Luc? Something he remembered from his childhood in Russia? The sweetness of the pie churned in my stomach making me feel a wave of nausea. What was home anyway? Neither of us could ever go home again.
He pursed his lips and let out a very long breath, everything on him still rigid and removed from all the cozy warmth of our orange bed. I could count on a single hand the number of times we'd just sat here. Usually, we ended up horizontal within twenty minutes. Something was wrong, very wrong. He sensed me watching him and looked over, his eyes detailing the giant bruises on my fingers. I clenched my fist to hide them, he looked back at the blank TV screen.
"What did you do tonight?" His voice was smooth and quiet, but his detachment from the whole situation made me wonder if he already knew. How hard would it have been for Jack to go down to that awful control room, run the videos back and see that I had been down there? Maybe if I came clean about how awful my night had gone he could too.
"I went down to the basement," I quietly started. He looked sharply over at me. "To give Jack the Molly."
"And?" He demanded, his jaw tensing. So he definitely hadn't heard anything from Jack. I took a deep breath to steady myself and let it all come gushing out.
"He...shot that driver. The guy was pleading with him. He didn't even care. It was like he was a rat or something, a pest, not a human being. And he just..." I stopped. I couldn't say any more. I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to force the sight of it away. Continuing with,
"I've seen death right next to me." I pulled my hands away and watched him swim into view, "I've watched you kill people. Why is this…"
"Kuklachka."
"Why?" I begged him.
"Because this time it wasn't an immediate threat. It was an order."
The words hit into my chest like a punch. That's what I'd done, hadn't I? I would have never suggested murdering someone to fix a problem like that, but this was still the Circle after all. In the end, he works for me, and if I told him to fix it he was going to make sure it never happened again. I looked over at Stellan,
"Have you had to do that?"
He looked away and in that crushing silence, I knew that he had. But it was his posture, the small tremor in his hand as he picked up some crumbs on our bedding that told me something else was going on. He swallowed hard and leaned back against the headboard, sinking against it like he was being weighed down.
"What happened at the Order meeting, Stellan?"
My tone, even in my ears, made it sound like I already knew it was something bad. He met my eyes, his face serious, but his eyes holding this relief in them. As if he was relieved he wouldn't have to bring it up himself, like he needed to unload this burden onto someone. I slid my hands across the sheets and squeezed the top of his.
"My number went up."
There was a long beat of silence until I whispered,
"Nine?"
He nodded. I tugged on his hand until he laid his head in my lap, his arms looping around my hips, as I stroked his hair. He squeezed me tighter and tighter until I finally felt safe enough to fall asleep.