"Madame Isles, may I?"
Maura offered a small smile and a simple wave, beckoning Chang to enter. She had just put away her books, might as well begin the assimilation now. She sighed under her breath; a little release where there can now be none.
"Chang, Isles is what I go by back in France. If you would just address me as I should be in Boston? Madame would do."
"Yes Madame," Chang looked to her clipboard and jotted something down.
She wondered if it's that important a note, what she preferred to be called - it is.
"Korsak and his men have been made aware of your arrival. When should I be arranging the meeting?"
"I'll be down in a moment, five minutes," she waved Chang along, "Thank you Chang." She smiled. She needed a little more, time.
"Yes Madame." Chang closed the door behind her.
She closed her eyes and took in a breath. Deep breaths - they help center a person.
"Done," Jane looked at her handiwork - checked the sink, not a leak. Checked the flush, it flushes well. She packed up her tools and proceeded to clean up after herself.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror - sheen of perspiration across her forehead and strands of hair clung to the same very area of skin. You're a mess Rizzoli. She said to herself.
She scrubbed at her fingers, washing away the grime. She rubbed at her washed face and let loose her curls. That's better, she thought. Less a plumber, more a well, what does it even matter. She thought as she exited the bathroom, eager to pass on the standard line of, "Sir or Ma'am, the bathroom's looking fine, we'll send the bill over and thank you for choosing Rizzoli and sons," she recited; a well-practiced line and a signal of a job errand over and done.
She felt a slight thrill of excitement, maybe she would meet the woman again - the one with the soft golden brown hair.
She touched her own forehead, remembering the flutters.
You can do this Maura, just think and execute. She said to herself, a morale boost. As she walked through the opened door to the study, the latter word's other connotation sank in. Heaviness grew in her chest and she simply shook away the notion of right and wrong. There will just be duty for now.
She noticed that she was approaching the bathroom; she felt her cortisol level drop a little.
She walked pass an empty lavatory; and she wondered why it had even mattered.
Jane stood at the foyer. The bespectacled broad was nowhere to be found.
She looked around, no one. She paced the carpeted ground; each pace, a slight stomp. Big places made her feel small and she was not one to like feeling small.
She paced; each pace, a slight stomp.
As Maura reached the stairs, she saw her – the woman with the song under the toilet sink.
She watched as each taken pace, accentuated the woman's long limber legs, the snug of the woman's jeans hugging the woman's bottom. She remembered the tingling of the receptors on the tips of her own fingers.
She shook away the thoughts of attraction. She descended the stair slowly, determined to drag out the call of duty and partly to admire the woman.
The woman's hair had been let down, the curls now free - a wild mane, such freedom. She found it difficult to concentrate; each step on the stair a usually unconscious movement now a task requiring much focus.
The woman must have heard her, because the woman looked up. She had never seen a brighter smile.
Jane heard footsteps. She stopped her pacing and looked up. It's her.
The woman with the soft golden brown hair, and those legs…she swallowed. The flutters, she remembered. Can there be a more beautiful person. A statement, she thought, not a question. She smiled.
"Hi Ma'am," she hesitated, the practiced line seemed so, wrong to be used here; she did not want to leave, "I…" She discarded her line, she forgot her words.
She smiled at the woman and she must have blushed. She could feel that the side of her ears were warm and flushed.
"Hi, I'm not going to hurt you, don't worry, there's no sink here," the woman smiled.
She laughed. "No ma'am, there isn't and it's not anything that you did ma'am. It was-"
"I shouldn't have startled you."
"Well, I shouldn't have been that easily startled."
"Do you make it a habit to take the blame for everything?" The woman gave off a little laugh. "Now, how's your head?" The woman touched her forehead.
She winced but told the woman an, "It's okay," because the tingling sensation soothed out the pain. She focused on the sensation of the woman's fingers, on looking at the woman, and she smiled, at the woman.
"Madame Doyle." A voice called from the side. She watched the woman's features shift from amusement to bemusement.
She took a step back, remembering now that she was in a mob house. There are boundaries.
"Ma'am, the bathroom's looking fine, we'll send the bill over and thank you for choosing Rizzoli and sons." She ended the well-practiced line with a flourish of a bow and a smile. There are boundaries, there are lines, but there's also, a beautiful woman across that line. She could not just give her a practiced line; could not just leave like she was not making her heart yearn for her to smile at her one more time.
The woman sent her a nod and a smile.
She sent her another bow and left the house thinking if maybe, a pipe would just burst, maybe not right now but one day. So they could call for a plumber, so that she would call for her again. No drama Jane, she reminded herself.
She readjusted her tool bag and drove on back, to where she belonged- Rizzoli and sons.
Maura had enjoyed that. She had felt like a human, sharing a normal conversation; a nice connection. It was an added benefit, to hear that voice, to touch that skin of lavender and warmth. She held back a smile. She had been called.
"Korsak," she gave a slight smile.
"It's nice to have you back Madame Doyle." Korsak returned the smile.
She fought the urge to retch; she would dismiss that name, at any possible instance. "Just Madame would do Korsak," she was careful to arrange her features into that of a smile, "Tell me now, how have things been since I was away?"
Just think and execute Maura, just think and execute. She repeated to herself as she entered the office, her office, to meet the gang, her mob. You're their boss now. You may not like it but, you're not known also as the Queen of the dead for nothing. She told herself.
A/N: Hi there, thank you, for the time~
Unfortunately, at this very point of re-upload, this story has to pause here. I'll get to it one day, I will. Apologies.
Thank you, for the time=)