Dangerous Liaisons

"I think tonight warrants a celebration. Unless you object?" Michel raised one slender eyebrow as he offered me a glass of champagne. Not wanting to embarrass myself further I took the glass with a quick thank you.

We were in a new part of the house tonight. Instead of going to the living room or the kitchen I had seen on occasion, I had been ushered into what appeared to be a library. The room was lined with rick oak bookshelves and a fireplace was nestled in the corner opposite of a window overlooking the back yard. The old world theme had continued here with an ornate desk and an oriental carpet. However the two black leather sofas were sleek and modern, something that you would find in an art gallery or urban apartment.

I hadn't seen where the bubbly drink had come from but I suspected that there was some sort of hidden cooler around here somewhere. Naturally being me, my curiosity outweighed my earlier frustration from the car and I launched into questions.

"Do you ever use the fireplace?" I asked, half wondering if it was a fire hazard to the books in the room. I recognized several as popular novels that had been best sellers in recent years where as many of the other volumes appeared to be classics, the thickness of the covers made me wonder if any were first additions.

Michel had seated himself across from me, leaning against the side of the couch, his hand held his glass precariously as he looked over at it.

"Occasionally, the winters do get chilly." He smirked. Wasn't he clever? I tucked my legs underneath me, my torturous heels abandoned on the rug on the floor. I tilted my head crossly.

"You know what I mean." He laughed but seemed content to watch me instead. Since we had come in, my mind had been largely distracted by the books around me. I liked to read, it wasn't a crime.

"If you have a library, why do you bother with the shelf in the living room?"

"To entertain." He answered, I scrunched my eyebrows not understanding. Sensing my hesitation, he explained. "They're conversation starters. DaVinci Code, etc... I keep the rest of my collection in here away from prying eyes." He looked at me pointedly, I had yet to stop staring.

There had to be hundreds of books here. Suddenly a thought crossed my mind as I got to my feet, padding over to the closest shelf while sipping my drink. It was sweeter than I expected.

I couldn't readily see an organization system in place, but the bookcase I had chosen had some of the older pieces. I traced my fingers over the spine of The House of Mirth.

"You're an Edith Wharton fan?" I questioned.

"She has an ironic sense of humour, though her characterization of New York is a bit biased. It wasn't as bad as all that."

I whirled around. "Are you serious? The turn of the century?"

He looked at me with those blue eyes, as unreadable as ever. "What do you think?"

The 1890's, surely he wasn't as old as that? Looking around the Victorian home though, I shouldn't be surprised if he was older still.

"Yes..." I began, but trailed off when his expression didn't change. "No...?" I tried again.

Without warning he was out of his seat and behind me, I could feel the ghost of his breath by my neck. Slowly, in a movement I could follow he reached above m and pulled out another slender volume and placed it in my hands. Seconds later he pulled out another from by my waist before grabbing a last copy from a shelf to my left.

"What about one of these Kerry, do you think I'm better suited to them?"

I looked at his selections: Persuasion, American Psycho, and Les Liaisons dangereuses. The last one trembled slightly in my hand.

American Psycho had only been published a few years ago, it was sitting at my house now. The murder thriller had engrossed me, only to leave me with nightmares later on. Looking at the others, I remembered Jane Austen from English, Persuasion was almost a century older than the book Ihad originally picked up.

The last book sat heaviest, an older tome, the french title engraved on the edge. Opening it carefully, I realized my French wasn't up to par with the text. After meeting Ethan over a year ago, I had restarted my French studies with vigor but I could only understand a handful of words per sentence. Going back to the front, I scanned the publishing page, 1782. Second Edition.

"Qu'en penses-tu?" He whispered, taking the books and putting them down on his desk.

The thudding sound jarred through me. Michel was seated again, and amusement glinted in his eyes. Flushed, I sank onto the couch beside him. He always managed to twist my ideas back on me. I was no closer to figuring out how old he was than before.

"I think the only think dangerous around here is you."

"Glad you remember."

I opened my mouth to ask him something else, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. I was always on edge around him but tonight seemed worse. The champagne did not appear to be helping

"How about I ask the questions this time?" he cut me off. I blushed and nodded, I had been drilling him for a while. "Have you decided where you're going yet? Last I heard you were split."

"I was going to Amherst but last week I found out that NYU accepted me off the waitlist. They gave me some decent financial aid too. Mum promised to chip in so I think I'm heading to the big apple." It had been really exciting for me. I had considered moving further away but I realized I didn't really want to be that far from my family. Especially not when I thought I had almost lost them.

"Small time girl moving to the big city, I'm impressed." He gave me a nod of approval. "What are you majoring in?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking of taking Psychology."

"Lovely, you can finally diagnose yourself then."

I glared at him and let my chin fall onto the top of the sofa. I was getting tired of being made fun of.

"Why can't you ever be nice to me?"

Michel laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was a frustrated gesture. With a tip of his glass, he finished off his champagne and stood to grab more from a mini-fridge behind the desk. Ah, so ends the mystery. Grabbing the bottle, he set it back down on the coffee table in front of us. He poured me some more before crossing his legs, leaning forward.

He was close enough that I could count his eyelashes.

"You want me to be nice?" He drummed his fingers against his knee. "What have I done that would give you the impression otherwise?"

I looked down at the hem of my dress, he'd switched moods again. I'm sure he could hear how my heart heart had jumped into my throat.

He didn't let me look away, instead he grabbed my chin and moved it up.

" I don't know what you expected from me. I told you I had to keep tabs on you and I've done it in the friendliest way I can. Do not push you're luck."

My lip quivered slightly. There was a moment of fear, but more than that was anger. I didn't come here to be treated like some petulant child. I twisted out of his grip, knowing full well that he let me.

"If you only did all this to keep an eye on me, then you didn't have to drag me along with you. So please, don't let me get in your way." I pushed off the sofa and grabbed my heels in my hands. Fueled by my own self-righteousness I stormed out, passing the living room and kitchen until I was out in the cool air on the wide front porch.

Holding onto the railing, I tugged the shoe straps on, wavering slightly a I regain my balance. A glance at my watch showed it was one in the morning. I crossed my arms and looked out on the street. The lamps were on but the roads of Brockport were empty at this point in the night.

I rubbed my forehead. Michel had driven me here. Of course, it was only a block away from the super market where I worked and I'd walked home from there. The problem was that my dad expected me to be at Nelle's and she lived on the other side of town.

I was weighing the possibility of begging Nelle to get me when I noticed him moving behind me. He was walking at a human pace, probably so anyone who may look out their window wouldn't notice anything out of place.

I said nothing as he settled near the banister next to me, leaning his forearms against the wood.

"Don't let me bother you, I'll get going as soon as I can." I told him, refusing to look at him. It was late and my nerves were frayed.

"I meant it you know." When I didn't question him, he continued. "Being a friend I mean. It's not something I've done in a long time. I just forget how easily you try my patience."

"I thought you were just keeping an eye on me." I snuck a peek at him from under my lashes, he was smiling ruefully.

"Oh I am, have no doubt about that. I hate loose ends, but you're right. I could easily ignore you in the process."

"You have a strange way of showing it." I muttered. He opened his hands, palm face up in a conciliatory gesture.

"You remind me of someone I once knew. For a moment, I forgot." He was looking at me now, and I realized it was the closest to an apology that I would get. Still, there was something special in hearing Michel admit to any fault or form of sentimentality. I couldn't help the blush dusting my cheeks.

"So what now? I can probably get one of my friends to pick me up. I didn't really think about where I'd go from here" I told him honestly, turning around to face him.

"Sunrise isn't for another few hours, come in for a bit more. I'll drop you off where you want to go after. Besides, I have something for you."

He grinned at me before leading me back inside. Like a moth drawn to a flame I followed him in. That man will be the death of me, just you wait.

Hello everyone! I know it has been forever but I wanted to post a quick update. This will not be a crazy long story, but allow me to explain the premise before I forget. This story was meant as an outlet to explore what Michel was really thinking when he let Kerry go that faithful night. The chapters have been in her point of view so far, but soon you'll start hearing from Michel and untangle his past. Hope you like it!

Always,

Vine