Chapter Three
Wesker rewound the camera. He watched it again, playing with the angles. Exquisite. The bulge in his pants tugged uncomfortably, and he shifted in his chair. The situation could have been handled better, but her eyes when he'd opened the door had been swimming with tears, big and pleading. He had acted impulsively; and somehow he couldn't fathom, he had no regret. Well, almost no regret. Wesker willed his raging hard-on away; which it stubbornly refused.
Slow and steady. Isn't that what his mother used to tell him? Wesker's memories from his human life were fading; it almost seemed to him that this was how he'd always been. That was honestly alright with him; from what little Wesker remembered of his childhood, that was better. He traced the faint scar just above his left ear; a remnant from one of his father's more vicious rages.
Wesker buzzed the kitchen; and put in an order for a dinner for two. There were no questions; his underlings knew better than to ask him any. It would be delivered at 1900 hours, promptly. Claire would not be requiring a luncheon; he wanted her hungry. As an afterthought, he dialed another extension, and put in an immediate order for the items Claire had requested. No sense in keeping her waiting.
A knock on the door alerted me, but I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, ignoring it. I wouldn't give that bastard another word. He wouldn't get what he wanted from me.
The door swung open , and I waited to hear Wesker's voice. It didn't come. Instead I heard something heavy being dropped into my cell, and then the door shutting and locking. Only the sound of my own breathing was there.
Drawing my feet out from under the covers, I stared at the non-descript brown bag that lay beside the door. Curiosity got the better of me, as I found myself rummaging through it's contents. It was everything on the list I had given to Wesker. The magazine selection was quite impressive, and there were even a few books thrown in. I smiled at the first book I pulled from the bag. Interview with a Vampire, by Anne Rice.
That was too good to be a guess. Wesker must've done his homework. That thought sent chills running up my spine. This wasn't a chance encounter; this was all premeditated. How long had that man been lusting after me? What if it wasn't just about lust? I didn't know what else it could be.
It just didn't make sense to me. I was passably pretty, my nose was too large for my face, and I looked a lot like my big brother; and while those features looked good on Christopher, they were entirely too masculine on me. It would make much more sense if Wesker were using me to draw out my older brother, whom he hated. But the one thing that Wesker had never done to me was lie.
Shaking my head, I put away my meager supplies, and climbed back into the warmth of my bed, bringing my newly acquired copy of Anne Rice's best work. I didn't know what time it was; there was no clock, so I passed the time in chapters, not hours. Eventually, my eyes drooped, and I set the book aside. Yawning, my mind filled with thoughts of Louis and Claudia searching for "their own kind", I rolled onto my back, and focused on sleeping.
I awoke to darkness. Groaning, I pulled myself to my feet, the lights sputtering to life above me. Sleeping for so long was taking it's toll on me; I always felt more tired than when I'd started. I noticed two things immediately. There was a dress hanging on the edge of the dresser, black and flowing. A box sat on top of it, with a little slip of paper. I strode to the items, and picked up the folded paper.
Your presence is requested at your disposal. Please, accept these gifts, as a token of my sincerest apologies for what transpired earlier, dear heart. I will be waiting for you.
A. Wesker
Setting the note aside, I reached for the box. It was velvet, and a little red bow was eloquently tied around it. I pulled the bow off and placed that on top of the letter. When I opened the box, it contained the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen. A glittering silver chain, interspersed with diamonds and rubies, with a teardrop shaped pendant hanging at it's center, a large ruby surrounded by little diamonds. My mouth made a perfect O as I stared at the jewelery in the box.
I put that carefully to the side, and shakily picked up the dress. It was stunning.
But I couldn't...no, wouldn't, be joining Wesker for dinner. My stomach growled in protest. There was my dilemma; my stomach. Food was always my downfall. My mouth watered at the prospect. Maybe a silent appearance? Nothing said I had to be good company.
Decision made, I grabbed out some of my bathing supplies, and showered, taking my time. Let him wait. I thought about choosing something else to wear, just to spite him, but instantly dismissed the notion. No point in making needless conversation. I brushed my hair, and wrapped it into a severe bun at the base of my neck, picking out a few of my longer strands to frame my face with. I'd have to ask for a blow dryer soon. The dress came next, and I was a bit put off by the amount of flesh that it showed; the neckline plunged further than I would have liked, and the back was almost non-existent, the only thing covering it was a series of thin ribbons that that tied at the crest of my ass. Figures.
The bottom of the dress, however, I approved of, long and flowing, it covered to about mid calf. I frowned; were there shoes? Well, if Wesker hadn't thought of that, then it was his own damn fault. I wasn't particular when it came to dining barefoot. The tiny mirror above the sink showed me my pale reflection, and I fiddled with my hair until it looked right. Gingerly, I took the necklace from it's box, and put it on. It was longer than I had expected it to be, half of it's length had been hidden by the box it was in. The pendant rested at the top of my cleavage. That figured, too. I heard a loud click, and turned around. Nothing was there. But....
I approached the door, and much to my surprise, it opened. A shoe box was waiting outside my door, and there was a note on it.
Dear heart, Please make your way to the left. Open the door at the end of the corridor, and we shall dine.
A. Wesker
Looking right, and finding no doors or openings, I sighed, and grabbed the shoe box. Inside, a pair of black leather strappy stiletto heels, probably about three inches high. Of course he'd pick them. I hastily put them on, and made my way towards the only other door in this ridiculously long hallway.
He paced. She was taking too long. She wasn't coming. Claire had been angry with him, and no amount of material items would buy her attention after what he'd done. He should just force her, save himself the time and misery. Wesker's back stiffened when he heard someone approaching the door to his room. His fingers lightly went over his hair, checking it's placement, before he took his seat at the circular table. Bracing himself mentally, he sucked in a calming breath, and waited.
Author's note: Okay, so this one is short too, but i have to get up in like, two hours to go to work; didn't get home till late, and I'm sorry. Hope you like this chapter. I swear that I should have more by tomorrow night.