Chapter 4
"What's the matter with you, old chap? You've barely said a word to anyone tonight."
Gomez blinked, startled, and turned his head towards his cousin, as if just noticing he was here, and forced a smile on his face but said nothing. He really needed to stop doing this but he just could not focus on anything nowadays, his mind kept wandering off.
"Marriage does that to a man," Gerald supplied dryly, before taking a short puff of his cigar."All it took was a couple of months of marriage to Ophelia for Gomez Addams to become quiet and withdrawn. Watch him now, he'll quit drinking and start practising yoga."
"You're hilarious," Gomez replied and couldn't help but smile a little at the dig. He was actually thinking of taking up some yoga classes, it looked so ridiculous it must be fun.
He needed some fun, he needed something to distract him because he has never felt more miserable in his life. He hadn't wanted to come to the club tonight at all but it was Thursday and they always met at the club on Thursdays - gentleman tradition even his father adhered to and Gomez usually enjoyed it.
His mother always jested that the gentlemen's clubs were places where husbands ran away from their wives and, to some extent, it was true but, on the other hand, there were very few places where one could discuss anything from politics to women to current affairs to business to the latest gossips all in the space of few hours in a very unrestricted fashion, over a drink or two.
He was enjoying none of it tonight and his glass of brandy still sat completely untouched on the table in front of him.
He had never felt so hopeless.
"I'm devastated you don't appreciate my sense of humour. Anyway," Gerald grinned, leaning against the velvet, cushioned armchair and turned towards Vlad."What do I hear about things going on between you and lovely Miss Frump?"
Gomez almost groaned out loud. Oh God, he didn't want to hear this, he didn't want to hear about anything that was going on between his cousin and her. He didn't want to think about it. He hated the fact that there was anything going on at all, he hated the fact that it bothered him so much and he wished, above everything, that he could hate her as well.
"That," his cousin smirked above his glass of scotch."Is none of your business, my friend."
Gomez rested his gaze on Vlad curiously. It was really so out of character for his cousin not to brag about this latest encounter, he usually liked to share all the details, although Gomez was infinitely glad he has forgone this habit this time. He didn't think he could stand listening to it at all but it was a curious change nonetheless.
"Hmm," Gerald chuckled before adding suggestively."I heard she's quite a wild little thing, isn't she?"
"Watch it," Vlad raised his glass, pointing at his companion with his index finger."This is the future Mrs Addams you're talking about."
Gerald tilted his head back and laughed loudly and Gomez tried his utmost not howl at the sheer misery of it all. Even with the whole Fester debacle, there was hope, a chance of some sort. Anything to grab on to. It seemed to him that everything had suddenly become devoid of meaning. Nothing mattered, no matter what he did and how much he tried, nothing will be as he wanted it to be. He will never be the husband he promised himself to be, and how could he be?
How can be a good husband to Ophelia when she occupied his every thought for the last two weeks. He lived through her and breathed her and dreamt of those dark eyes and crimson lips, enslaved to her for eternity and she was beyond his reach.
She was all he could think about. She was the first thing he thought about the moment he opened his eyes and the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep and the thing that hunted his dreams.
He could no longer kiss Ophelia without wishing, from the core of his very soul that she was someone else, he could not make love to her without yearning desperately for those dark eyes and to feel that pale, ivory skin under his hands. What a bastard he was, what an unspeakable cad.
She will never belong to him, he would never feel those raven tresses under his fingers, he would never feel those glorious crimson lips against his and she was all he wanted.
"You should join us for dinner on Saturday," Gerald proposed, pulling Gomez out of his miserable thoughts.
Join whom and where, he wondered. He realized he hadn't been listening to a word his companions were saying.
"Us?" Gomez asked, his brows creasing in confusion.
He certainly didn't remember having any dinner engagements.
Gerald turned towards him and laughed.
"You're really out of it, old man," he teased."Hasn't your lovely wife told you that we're dining at that new place in Manhattan?"
"Oh, that," he nodded.
He couldn't remember if Ophelia had mentioned anything at all but he would rather die than spend the evening in the company of his cousin, watching him courting the woman that invaded every second of his miserable existence.
It was bad enough having to sit through the Sunday dinner at his in-laws where she sat opposite him at the table and he spent the entire evening trying not to stare at her, trying to block her soft voice off his mind, he barely said a word to her all evening. He was perfectly gracious and entertaining with everyone else, though, and then she asked him something, he didn't even know what, something about his uncle being convicted of arson and he was so startled by her attention that all he managed was some short, abrupt reply that probably sounded rude and dismissive. He was sure it sounded rude because later that evening Ophelia had told him it was clear he didn't like her sister, not that she blamed him, she said, because Morticia could be really exhausting.
Oh, the irony. Morticia? Exhausting? He would gladly spend the rest of his life granting her every wish. But he couldn't.
And he couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at her without getting lost in her.
"So what do you say, Vlad?" Gerald continued sardonically."You can join us for dinner, respectable married couples so we can chaperone you two love-birds?"
"Maybe, I'll think about it," Vlad said dismissively and cleared his throat, shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat.
Trouble in paradise already, Gomez wondered sardonically, finally reaching for his drink. He fucking hoped so.
James Frump resisted an almost overwhelming urge to sigh heavily as he pretended to align the newly framed painting - a gift from Morticia - on the wall of his study.
How many times would they have to go over it? Again and again?
He was never the one to consider raising children purely women's business but during situations such as this one he could certainly see the appeal of it.
Was this really all that was left in life? Was this really what was left of their marriage?
Tearing each other apart, it seemed that everything these days led to an argument - their past and their present, their future and even the vague what-ifs.
Not that his wife was incorrect in her assessment, of course, it would be much easier if Morticia would follow the social expectations but he knew her too well to ever expect it. It just wasn't in her nature to bow to any rules that she regarded as unfair or simply absurd, or both.
Besides, times have changed and they had to accept that young people were more and more reluctant to adhere to the rules of the olden days. Truthfully, not that young people ever adhered to such rules but, in his times, they were certainly more discreet in not adhering to said rules. Out of sight out of mind and all that.
Times were different but, as his wife rightly pointed, so was the situation and yet he was still reluctant to cave in and admit it to her.
"What do you want me to do?" He sighed tiredly, casting one last look at the painting on the wall before returning to sit behind his desk."Lock her in her room? She doesn't even live here anymore."
"She made a spectacle of herself, James," his wife hissed, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger into the polished surface of his study desk.
"I think you're making it a bigger deal than it is," he retorted."Morticia was perfectly well-behaved."
"Dancing at the funeral!"
"Everyone was dancing, these are Addamses we're talking about, they are -"
"I know how they are," his wife interjected impatiently."You need to speak to her, this is not the time to involve herself in a scandal."
"What scandal? There's no scandal to speak of," he defended and watched his wife's jaw tighten in annoyance.
"Oh for God's sake, James, do you think she left the funeral with that man to hold hands with him and talk about poetry?"
"She's twenty-two," he interjected."I think it's rather too late for the birds and bees talk, my dear."
"You know very well that's not the point," she retorted, gritting her teeth in annoyance."Who's going to marry a woman who's so frivolous with her reputation?"
"You're giving that girl a hard time for no reason -"
"No reason," his wife snorted derisively."I have two words for you: debutante ball."
James Frump winced but said nothing, of course, she would bring up the blasted debutante ball. She most probably will never let it be.
"You are largely to blame for the fact that Morticia thinks she can do as she pleases," his wife continued, resuming her pacing.
"God forbid a woman has bigger ambitions than to get married," he muttered stubbornly.
His wife turned towards him abruptly and then tilted her head, letting out a short derisive laugh. She put her hands on her hips in a defiant manner and regarded him mockingly.
"Oh, and what exactly are Morticia's ambitions, pray tell?" She goaded.
"Let her live her life, there will be plenty of time for the old ball and chain."
"She's not a common wench to just marry just anyone, James," his wife hissed."I don't think you realize what it takes to find a suitable marriage these days."
"The world will not end if she won't get married."
"Oh, you've really elevated defending her to the form of art," she spat."She can't do anything wrong with you."
"She can't do anything right with you," James retorted angrily."You criticise everything she does."
"Oh, that's preposterous," his wife snorted.
"Is it?"
"You can't expect me to condone the fact that she left the funeral with that man in tow without even a drop of consideration to be discreet about it," she fumed."It was a funeral, these are Ophelia's in-laws and she couldn't have enough decency - "
"You're the only one who makes a problem out of this, my dear," he retorted firmly."Morticia was perfectly charming with everyone the whole evening, Harald and Eudora said she was lovely and you're the only one who's making a mountain out of a molehill here."
He saw her posture soften and she bit her lips gently into a thin line, a sure sign that his wife realized that her current approach will bring her no desired effect and the change, of course, was in order.
All the better, because he was damned tired of discussing this blasted topic almost every day for the last two weeks.
"Darling, it's you I'm worried about," his wife insisted and he had to bite his cheeks to prevent himself from snorting ungainly.
Well, at least this conversation was nearing its end and thank God for that, he needed a drink.
"You know how delicate this whole thing is and the papers…," she sighed tiredly and pressed her fingertips to her forehead."They are like a dog with the bone, every little thing will matter after the announcement. If Morticia wants to be involved with that Addams fellow then it needs to be stated officially, we need to tread carefully, we cannot afford - "
Was this really all he had left, he thought again. He once had love and passion and whispers of forever, and now this was all he had left?
He felt trapped. Trapped in this marriage that felt to him like purgatory and perhaps it was, for him and for her, for both of them.
Perhaps, this is what they deserved. And there was no escape for them.
"Alright," he said abruptly, unwilling to prolong this whole thing any further and leaned against his chair heavily."Alright, you're right, I know. I will speak to her."
There were few things Debbie Jelinsky considered unthinkable. Marrying a guy whose bank account did not show at least six digits was, for example, unthinkable because, after all, how did one show love if not through buying her everything she desired. Money was love, after all, plain and simple.
However, even marrying some poor bloke for love was more probable than waking up, for the second day in a row, to the smell of freshly baked croissants. Usually, the only thing that was in the cupboards was Morticia's favourite tea and once in a blue moon some food and coffee if Debbie felt like doing grocery shopping.
So yes, waking up to the delicious smelling pastries was highly uncommon and, in Debbie's opinion, warranted a serious concern.
Debbie fixed the sash of her robe and made her way toward the kitchen area, where her friend was already sitting, dressed in her customary black dress, her bare feet resting at the chair opposite, a cup of tea on the table and -
"Okay, what on earth are you doing?" Debbie asked in disbelief.
Morticia looked up from her knitting, raising her eyebrows in mild amusement at Debbie's tone.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She replied without stopping her work.
"I didn't mean what are you doing," Debbie retorted."I meant what the hell are you doing?"
"Knitting," Morticia replied smoothly and smiled at Debbie's flabbergasted expression.
"Have you gone mad?"
"Not yet, regrettably."
"Knitting?" Debbie repeated coming closer to the breakfast table and picked the black yarn in between her fingers as if wary it would bite her."What are you? A pensioner?"
"Is there some unspoken rule about knitting being reserved for the pensioners?"
Debbie frowned and decided to cross her arms and glared at her friend until she caved in and told her what was going on but after almost seven minutes of glaring, in which Morticia calmly continued her knitting, Debbie sighed heavily and sat down in the chair next to Morticia.
"You've been so quiet for the past two weeks my ears are ringing," she pointed out. "You wake up before me - and that never happens - and go out to buy croissants for breakfast, which never ever ever happened before, and now this," she pointed at the knitting in Morticia's hands.
"Knitting is fun," Morticia insisted." It came together with some periodical you subscribe to so I gave it a try. Look, I knitted a winter hat for you and a pair of mittens to go with it," she said, pointing at the black beanie hat and a pair of mittens at the kitchen table. "We're going to practice shawl patterns next month, I'm going to make one for Granny. She loves handmade gifts"
"You're clearly gone insane," Debbie decided but picked the hat from the table and went over to the large mirror on the wall in the hall and put it on."I look so good in black."
"Natural-born widow," Morticia supplied."There will be a scarf to go with it as well."
"Thanks for all that but really, what the hell, Tish?"
"What do you mean?" she asked again, feigning confusion.
"Breakfast? Early wake-ups? Knitting? Either you want to marry me or you're depressed," Debbie decided, returning to the table, the beanie hat still on her head.
Morticia simply shrugged, raising the teacup to her lips and took a small sip of her hot beverage.
"Why, I think we'd be very happy together - you and me and the six digits on my trust fund," she supplied dryly.
"And the dowry," Debbie reminded, pointing at Morticia with her index finger.
"And the dowry," Morticia smiled." Nothing is bothering me," she added."I'm always quiet."
"Nooo," Debbie shook her head insistently, taking a croissant out of the paper bag and began munching on it."There's quiet and there is quiet. What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," Morticia assured, focusing back on her knitting work." I'm simply... ruminating."
Debbie blinked and continued to chew the soft pastry slowly, staring intently at the woman before her.
"Ruminating?"
Morticia nodded and smiled at her again.
"That's nice," Debbie replied, tearing another piece of the croissant and popping it into her mouth." You know, one day I'm going to take all your fancy vocabulary and shove it up your skinny,-" she paused and turned towards the door where the firm knock reverberated resounded loudly," are we expecting someone?"
Morticia shook her head.
"Not that I'm aware of."
"I bet it's the flowers again," Debbie predicted, already getting up from her chair.
"Ignore it."
Debbie ignored her, opening the door swiftly just when the knocking got indecently loud and glared at the man behind it. He was dressed in a green uniform with a baseball hat that said "Bloom and Gloom Florist Services".
"Break the door, why don't you," she said testily but the delivery man barely looked at her.
"Miss Morticia Frump?" he asked in a bored tone, chewing his gum loudly.
"Yeah," Debbie replied carelessly, leaning against the door frame.
The man spared her a quick look and his eyes travelled to the beanie hat on her head.
"You sure?" he asked again in the same bored tone.
"Yeah, you have something for me or you came for a chat?"
"You don't look like a Morticia," he insisted, scribbling something on the form.
"Well..." she sighed and looked at his name tag."You don't look like a Jackson. You look more like Fred. Should I call you Fred?"
The delivery guy glared at her.
"These are for you," he muttered, handing her a long rectangular box."Just sign here please."
Debbie took the pen and put a huge X in a dotted line.
"Seriously?"
"It's an M if you squint... Fred," Debbie retorted before closing the door in his face." He called me a bitch, can you believe it?" she said, outraged.
Morticia couldn't help but grin.
"Shocking."
Debbie put the box on the table and opened it, revealing a bouquet of red roses.
"You got roses from V.," she read the card slowly."Again."
Morticia couldn't help but wince slightly.
She had never regretted one-night stands - well, generally she never regretted them - but she was starting to suspect she had complicated her life quite a bit with this little tryst with Vlad. The man obviously did not understand the meaning behind one-night stands and couldn't take hints for the life of him. Surely, anyone with a half-brain would understand that she was not interested after she has blatantly ignored his messages for almost two whole weeks and hasn't returned a single phone call.
She wasn't looking for romance, he was supposed to be a distraction but proved to be an extremely inefficient one and the last thing she wanted was a morning-after with Vlad. She wasn't in the mood for that.
"Is V the reason you're so quiet?" Debbie asked."You fell in love at that funeral?"
"I didn't fall in love with anyone, anywhere," she replied promptly, too promptly if the look on Debbie's face was anything to go by." The funeral was fun, I told you, you should have come."
"Thanks but I really can't stand your sister," she said."If you ever want her dead, remember me."
"You sweet thing, you," Morticia smiled."But that would ruin your reputation as a black widow."
"Ah, yeah, you're right," Debbie admitted unhappily."Oh, screw it, I'll make the sacrifice."
"Bless your heart."
"So… you and that V fella hooked up after the funeral?"
Morticia shrugged, finally abandoning her knitting and smoothed her hair, twirling the ends around her fingers.
"Ugh… sort of…," she admitted.
Debbie snorted loudly.
"Sort of? How can you sort of fuck?"
Morticia let out a tired sigh and leaned forward, propping her chin against the pillow of her hand.
"I'm not really in the mood to talk about it, to be honest."
Debbie nodded in understanding, finishing the rest of her croissant.
"Ah, I see," she said knowingly." He underfucked you."
"Undnerfu - that's not even a real word," Morticia pointed out.
"If Shakespeare could make up his own words so can Debbie Jellinsky."
"Touche."
"So, a case of bad sex?" Debbies asked, leaning over the breakfast table."Tell me all about it."
"It wasn't… bad, it's just… I don't know," she shrugged."It wasn't great."
"He clearly underfucked you," Debbie decided, and went to open the balcony door before throwing the roses out of the balcony and waited until they landed on the street."It will take more than a bunch of roses to repair the damage… jerk. Underfucking should be a crime."
Morticia couldn't help but smile.
Except, she thought, it wasn't exactly Vlad's fault.
All she wanted was a one night stand to forget about that absurd situation with Gomez Addams but the man she hoped would provide a distraction proved to be anything but, it wasn't entirely bad except it took all of her strength to focus on the task at hand and stop wishing he was someone else, half-way through Morticia decided that if Gomez Addams was going to ruin her sex life by his mere existence, she would simply have to kill him since sleeping with him wasn't an option.
He was her sister's husband, her brother-in-law, the mere thought made her wince.
A married man was one thing but a man married to her sister was something else entirely.
She didn't want to talk about him. She didn't even want to think about him and those gorgeous half-lidded eyes or how devilishly handsome he was and even the way he spoke, that tinted accent seemed to just churn her insides. There was something about him that set every nerve in her body alight. Primal, raw attraction and it irked her that she couldn't do anything about it, she couldn't have him. It irked her so much she didn't know what to do with herself.
She could not help but stare at him whenever she saw him, he was just ridiculously attractive and it was becoming increasingly clear to her that he was fighting with the same urge as she did. Most of the time he was trying his best not to look at her at all but on the occasions where their eyes met, his gaze burned with such lust it made her knees weak.
She didn't want Vlad, she wanted him.
Except, there was nothing she could do about it, because there was no way she could ever get away with sleeping with her sister's husband.
Eudora Addams smiled at the sound of thunder reverberating through the Addams' mansion. It was such a delightfully depressing day, dark, heavy with the rain clouds covering the whole estate, it was brewing to be a truly wonderful storm.
She reached for a red leather-bound book and flipped absently through the pages before returning the book back on the shelf. She picked another one and repeated the whole thing again.
"May I suggest 'East of Eden'?" her husband's voice reached her from the sofa near the fireplace where he was sitting, enjoying his mid-morning reading of the latest business news.
"Hmmm," Eudora nodded."Gomez recommended it as well, I will have to finally read it."
Harald smiled at her before returning to the page he was reading.
"Have you seen Gomez today?" she asked.
"Briefly, he said he had meetings in the city today so he left early," he informed her, without taking his eyes off the newspaper."Why?"
"Oh, nothing, he works such long hours lately - "
"It will get easier when we get a new accountant."
"Ah, yes, how is that going?"
"Terribly," Harald sighed."Who would have thought it would be so hard to find someone with a decent knowledge of tax evasion, it's ridiculous."
"That's true," Eudora agreed absently."Darling, do you think Ophelia would mind if I invited Morticia over?"
Harald Addams lifted his head from the paper he was skimming through and took off his glasses, slowly leaning against the vintage sofa.
"Last time I checked this is still your house," he replied testily."You may invite whomever you please, you don't need anyone's permission."
Eudora rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
"Now, now I didn't mean it that way," she appeased."It's just…"
She paused and wrinkled her nose briefly, before finally letting out a gentle shrug.
"What?" he prompted.
"I just don't think Ophelia and Morticia…," she paused again, pressing her lips together." Well, I don't think they get along very well and I don't want to add logs to the fire."
"Then don't invite her," Harald retorted.
"But I want her to see the estate," she insisted."And I'm also propagating a few plants she might like. She said she loved my conservatory."
"Ah yes, nothing pleases my dear wife as an eager audience," he laughed.
"Oh, don't tease."
"I don't think Ophelia would mind if you invited Morticia," he decided." Anyway, here's your chance to ask her," he added motioning his head towards the door.
Eudora turned to see her daughter-in-law apparently all ready to go out for the day, Lurch standing behind her with the umbrella ready. It has started to pour down.
"Ophelia, dear," Eudora called after her."Do you have a minute?"
Ophelia stopped and turned towards her mother-in-law.
"Of course," she said and smiled at her expectantly.
She looked like she was in a hurry. She wore a powder pink suit and the air around her was heavy with those daisy perfumes she had purchased recently and Eudora had to clear her throat to prevent herself from coughing. Devil only knew how her son could stand that scent lingering in the bedroom all the time, she wouldn't be able to sleep with all that flowery scent everywhere.
"Yes, well, I was wondering if it would be alright with you if I invited your sister over?"
Ophelia frowned, obviously this wasn't the question she expected.
"Invite Morticia?" she asked slowly. "Here?"
"I wanted to show her the estate, she said she'd love to see it and I have some plants she might be interested in having -"
Ophelia sighed and shifted impatiently.
"Okay, yeah, it's just…," she interjected." I already have plans for next week, so I most likely won't be home until dinner."
Eudora nodded understandingly.
"Well, that's a shame but I'm sure I can keep your sister entertained, if that's fine with you," she replied.
"Well, yeah, sure, if that's what you like," Ophelia agreed and then smiled again."I don't mind at all but I really need to go now."
"Oh, of course," Eudora nodded."Have fun."
"See?" Her husband smiled at her when she returned to the library."Wasn't that bad, was it?"
Eudora only murmured in lukewarm agreement.
"They don't seem to spend much time together," she said quietly, more to herself than to her husband.
"Who?"
"Gomez and Ophelia."
Harald shrugged, apparently unconcerned.
"They're fine," he assessed."It's nice that she has things to occupy herself with."
"I didn't mean that," she retorted, shaking her head."It just seems that, for a newly wedded couple, they seem to spend more time apart than together. It's just… odd."
Harald shrugged, licking his index finger before turning another page in the newspaper.
"I don't think it's odd at all," he countered."As you pointed out, Gomez is very busy running the family business, what is she supposed to do? Watch him do paperwork?"
He was utterly missing her point but there was no point in pursuing the subject any further. Maybe he was right, maybe she was worrying for nothing.
"I guess," she replied unconvincingly."Well, anyway, let me call the Frumps then, Particia said that the girl doesn't live with them and I didn't even ask for her number."
Harald raised his eyebrow and shook his head disapprovingly.
"Unmarried and living on her own," he muttered to himself."What is the world coming to."
For the first time in days, Gomez Addams decided he was actually feeling hopeful. He felt like there was a light in the tunnel among all the misery that engulfed him lately. He felt relaxed and, dared he said it, he was actually having quite a good time. He was suddenly grateful to Ophelia for arranging this double date dinner with Gerland and Holly, it felt good to get out of the house and L'oscar was one of his favourite restaurants.
He turned to glance at his wife who was having a very animated conversation with Holly, gossiping really but at least she was having a good time. She looked beautiful too. He liked the backless emerald velvet dress she wore. She styled her hair in gentle waves, just reaching her shoulders - the way her favourite actress did, he forgot what her name was, Greta or Grace, something like that. He will have to find out.
"What deal?" Ophelia turned suddenly towards Gerald.
It was amazing really, how Ophelia could be busy talking to someone, seemingly giving them all her attention and yet she always knew what was going on around her.
Although, business talk rarely interested her. No, scratch that, business talk absolutely never interested her, she seemed bored to death whenever he attempted to tell her about his day.
"Haven't you told her?" Gerald asked him.
"No, I haven't got a chance," Gomez lied.
"Tell me what?" Ophelia turned towards him with a curious expression on her face.
"Your husband here invested recently in land that everybody thought was flushing money down the drain," Gerald started pausing for a dramatic effect."Well, it turned out the boy struck gold again - they found oil reserves there, lucky dog, I don't know how he does it!"
"Oh, well done, honey," Ophelia said simply and smiled at him."So I guess we're even richer now."
"I guess so," Gomez smiled back.
"It's like the time you bought that bloody farm in the middle of nowhere," Gerald continued." And wham! Uranium mine. The government bought it off him for a - "
"Oh, Gerald darling, we're here to have fun not to talk business," Holly interjected with a huff of faux annoyance.
"Exactly," Ophelia nodded."Business is for the boys club. Wives have no business in business."
"Well put," Gerald agreed with a cheerful laugh."Anyway, do you know who your sister is seeing?"
Gomez almost groaned out loud. Gerald, for all his condescending comments about women and gossip and all that, seemed to behave exactly in the way he so often condemned.
"Gerald, darling, I swear you're worse gossip than all of us put together," Holly teased.
"Now, that's a lie, my pet," Gerald retorted good-naturedly."Gossiping is for women."
"Of course it is," his wife retorted facetiously before directing her attention back to Ophelia."Oh my God, do you remember that time when Morticia didn't attend her debutante ball?"
"How could I not remember that?" Ophelia gasped and Gomez almost rolled his eyes at the exaggerated theatricals."She'd spent the entire night in some seedy bar with some cutthroats. Mama was livid."
Gomez couldn't help but laugh.
"It wasn't funny, Gomez," Ophelia reprimanded."We really thought Mama was going to rip her into shreds. Papa asked Granny to take Morticia for an extended European holiday - that's how bad it was."
"I'm still in awe of Mrs Frump for her ability to hush the whole thing," Holly supplied appreciatively."My mother would have killed me a thousand times if I dared such a thing."
"I know, right?"
Holly giggled, twirling the strand of her blond hair around her fingers before her gaze rested on Gomez.
No, he thought, she looked straight through him, or rather behind him and suddenly he felt a sense of being watched.
"Jesus, why does she always look like she's going to the funeral?" Holly asked.
"Who?" Ophelia asked and turned, following her friend's gaze." Oh, God, what are they doing here?" she moaned but then her lips stretched into a wide smile and she waved frantically.
He did not dare to turn to see who she was waving at, he knew. He knew even if they didn't mention it. He felt suddenly hot and his heart started beating furiously. He didn't want her to be here, he didn't want to see her or talk to her and yet at the same time he longed to do nothing else but to stare at her for the rest of eternity. Admire her as if she was a precious work of art.
"Cousin! What a surprise."
The hell it was, Gomez thought with annoyance. Vlad knew bloody well they were coming here for dinner tonight. What was he trying to do? Show off his catch? He felt like punching him in the face but that would certainly be difficult to explain to his wife.
He got up to greet them and his heart just stopped beating at the sight of her.
God, she was so beautiful. She was divine. And this dress, good God, he longed for nothing more than to run his fingers against the black lace and his eyes followed the low neckline almost unwittingly.
He was damned. He was damned all the way to hell and for eternity.
"Why, if it isn't my darling sister," Morticia greeted and placed a brief kiss on her sister's cheek.
She turned towards him, extending her hand.
"And my dear brother-in-law."
"Nice to see you again," he managed to mutter, kissing her extended hand.
The feeling on that pale skin under his lips was almost too much and his throat felt suddenly dry. He felt almost relieved when she retrieved her hand gently.
"What a surprise to see you both here," Ophelia greeted warmly, placing her hand gently on Gomez's knee.
"I nagged her relentlessly and she has finally agreed to have a drink with me," Vlad replied facetiously."She probably only agreed to it so I would finally stop bothering her."
"That's true, actually," Morticia supplied in a deadpan manner and Gomez couldn't help but smirk.
"Why don't you join us for dinner," Gerald insisted warmly."We'll make sure you two love birds are behaving yourself," he added, immediately laughing at his own joke and winking at Morticia.
"Gerald, really, stop embarrassing them," Holly reprimanded, slapping her husband gently on the arm.
"I jest, my dear."
"Although, we are indeed more that happen to chaperone," Holly grinned at them above her drink.
"Out of the question," Vlad replied."I want this lovely lady all to myself. It was a hard job to lure her out for a drink, I'm not going to risk exposing her to the charms of my dear cousin here."
"Oh, you're incorrigible," Ophelia scolded half-heartedly and Gomez didn't miss the slight roll of Morticia's eyes.
She looked as if she found the whole exchange unbelievably tedious.
"Mother said you will be coming over next weekend," Ophelia turned towards her sister.
"It is Granny's seventieth birthday party," Morticia pointed out.
"Ah yes, Granny is the only person in the whole family that Morticia wouldn't dare to refuse to come to a family celebration," Ophelia teased.
"Yes, well, as stimulating as this conversation is," Morticia interjected with a charming smile."We wouldn't like to impose on your marital affections."
"Such a cynic, Tish," her sister laughed.
"Enjoy your dinner."
"I'm sorry about her," Ophelia sighed when Morticia and Vlad moved towards the bar." I told you, she is so… difficult."
"She seems perfectly lovely," he said before he could think it through and immediately wanted to bash his head into the nearest wall.
What kind of bloody idiot was he exactly?
Ophelia, however, let out an amused giggle.
"Oh, darling, you're such a gentleman," she looked at him, shaking her head."But lovely is not a word anyone would associate with my sister. Although your cousin seemed quite besotted. He pestered me for over a week to give him Morticia's number."
"He did?"
"Yes, didn't I tell you? I must have forgotten," she said and waved her hand carelessly.
"Poor bastard," Gerald supplied over the rim of his drink."He doesn't know what's coming for him.
Gomez loved his cousin like a brother - usually - but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to throw Vlad into a bottomless pit full of venomous snakes.
She was beginning to absolutely hate Gomez Addams' very existence.
Well, almost.
It was hard to hate him somehow. He was insanely attractive, yes, but there was also this startling vulnerability about him, there was this longing in his gaze that felt to her uncannily familiar.
She almost groaned out loud.
Naturally, the bar would be in the direct view of the dining area. She had no idea how she was supposed to have a drink and conversation with Vlad without staring at Gomez Addams the whole time. Perhaps, she should suggest a change of venue? Since she didn't really feel like spending her evening in practically the same room as her sister and her friends either.
She started to vehemently regret that she listened to Debbie's advice and agreed to this drink with Vlad. How on earth did they even end up in the same restaurant as her sister? The city was huge, with more bars and restaurants than one could count and yet here they all were. Ridiculous.
"Sneaking out of the hotel room was really bad manners, Miss Frump."
She watched him for a moment as he leaned against the back of his velvet, burgundy chair and rested his elbow against the onyx bar, with a rather forced nonchalance. She thought he looked nervous.
"I'm not a huge fan of the morning after awkwardness," she retorted after a while and tried not to smirk when he shifted in his seat.
"Fair enough," he nodded, his lips stretching into a charming smile."Neither am I. Wine?"
"Please."
She waited silently as he ordered their drinks and glanced towards the table where her sister was apparently enjoying herself to the fullest being her usual obstreperous self, laughing at something in her practised laugh. Her sister had two kinds of laughs, one - the genuine one, when she actually found something amusing and the one she perfected over the years - the one she used at social gatherings, the one she used to flirt, the one she used to laugh at the dull jokes men told her. Ophelia was good at entertaining people, one had to give her that.
Her eyes travelled towards him, she thought briefly that he fitted the decor of this place perfectly, he fitted the deep browns, the rich reds and burnished golds around them, but unlike the restaurant, he seemed to her effortlessly sumptuous and she just couldn't stop staring at him.
"Are you okay staying here?" Vlad asked her and she turned her head towards him abruptly.
"Pardon?"
She didn't like the look he gave her, brief as it was, but still, like he had caught her red-handed. Or perhaps she was imagining things. Has he noticed her staring at him?
"If you don't feel comfortable with your sister being here, we can go somewhere else," he offered and she almost let out a sigh of relief.
It would be a sensible thing to do, there were plenty of bars and restaurants on this street alone after all. Only an imbecile would stay here with the proverbial forbidden fruit a mere few feet away from her, where she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else but him.
"Not at all," she replied.
She was an imbecile, apparently. She picked up her wine glass and resisted the almost overwhelming urge to drain the whole thing down.
But that would be unladylike.
"Good," he smiled at her and cleared his throat gently. "You know, there's a lovely exhibition at the Metropolitan. We could go together. "
"Oh, I'm afraid, I am not a big fan of exhibitions," she replied smoothly and watched his forehead crease in confusion.
"You're...not?"
She shook her head.
"They bore me to death," she continued with an exaggerated sigh before taking a small sip of her wine and smiled at him.
"Ehmm, but your sister said you like to paint," he told her, still frowning like he couldn't believe what she was telling him.
"Oh, that," Morticia laughed gently."She meant my nails."
She lifted her palm and wriggled her fingers at him, showing off her red nails.
"Do you like it? It's called 'Vermillion Red', a rather unimaginative name but I love the colour," she said, inspecting her nails intently.
He looked at her like she just grew a second head.
"Are you making fun of me?" he asked but she only batted her eyelashes at him."You're making fun of me."
She only smiled in reply.
"For a moment it felt as if I was talking to Ophelia," he muttered and took a small sip of his gin.
"Look," he continued." I know we've started off rather...quick, maybe too quickly and…it might feel awkward but...I like you," he said paused, watching her reaction but Morticia merely looked back at him, politely expectant. "We can slow down and just… get to know each other."
"Are you asking me for permission to court me?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side, amused by the very idea.
"Yes," he smiled."I suppose I am."
She looked away from him briefly and pressed her lips together.
"Vlad, I'm not... interested in a romantic relationship," she explained gently, resting her gaze at him again."I wasn't looking for anything more beyond that one night. I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear enough."
Although, for the love of God, how much clearer could she have made it?
"Alright, fair enough," he let out a half-embarrassed laugh and licked his lips briefly."But as I said, no rush, we can take it...easy, if you know what I mean."
That was it, she would never indulge in one night stands with any stranger met at a funeral again.
Unless that stranger was Gomez Addams. Then maybe.
In a universe where he was not married to her sister, that was. Then yes.
"So what do you say?" he prompted gently.
She had no idea where on earth Vlad imagined this was going but then, there was no harm in indulging in a little fun, was there?
If he wanted to take it slow, by all means, they could take it slow.
Really. Really, slow.
A little fun while she figured out how to take Gomez Addams out of her mind - Scotland sounded like a good destination to forget about him- nice and far. Russia, maybe.
Anything far away from him.
Far from something that could only end in disaster.
God, this was getting more than a little ridiculous.
She really didn't know how she was supposed to avoid Gomez Addams and all the carnal temptations that came with him if the universe constantly conspired to throw them together. If this situation was a test to check how much self-control she had then she had very little. Certainly not enough to be in such close proximity with him more often than once a week but here she was, touring the Addams estate with Eudora Addams.
On the other hand, what was she to say? It would be impolite to refuse and, besides, she didn't want to decline the invitation because she genuinely wanted to see the Addams estate - it was simply enchanting. It wasn't her fault that he happened to live here as well.
The whole estate was magnificent, though. She almost felt jealous that her sister was living in such a marvellous place. If she thought she loved it almost a month ago at the funeral, then she was absolutely obsessed now. The Addams family history was wildly fascinating, she could listen to Eudora Addams talking about all the various relatives for hours and hours.
"Dear Uncle Imack, pulled limb for limb by four wild horses," the older woman introduced as they slowly passed the limbless statue.
"That's truly horrible."
"They said they could hear his screams in the next town," Eudora supplied."They probably exaggerated but it was certainly one of the most gruesome deaths in the family."
"It's so fascinating," she said."Enviable even."
"Isn't it?" Eudora agreed and smiled at her as they moved to the next tomb.
"Vulture?" Morticia asked, inspecting the statue curiously.
"Ah, dear Muerte, he belonged to my son, Fester," Eudora explained before her voice took an undeniably wistful tone." He... withered away after he left. We couldn't help him. He wouldn't peck, he wouldn't hunt…"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize - "
"Oh, no, Fester's not dead," Eudora shook her head, patting Morticia's arm gently."He's… away."
"Travelling?"
"Something like that," the older woman replied evasively.
"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to pry."
"No, no, don't worry," Eudora smiles at her." I don't mind. It's just… it's complicated, that's all - ah, Aunt Laborcia, executed by the firing squad."
"Did any Addams die of natural causes?" Morticia asked, looking at the holes in the tomb.
"Not that I know of," Eudora grinned proudly."Addamses come from a long line of psychopaths, mad dark killers - pioneers."
"Quite a family to marry into," Morticia laughed gently.
"Oh, they are very unique, no doubt about that," Eudora admitted, with a gentle laugh of her own."I feel our poor Ophelia is still a bit overwhelmed."
"She seems happy," Morticia replied.
She supposed her sister would be always blissfully happy as long as she had money and the privileges that came with being so insanely wealthy but she also imagined that Ophelia probably wasn't at all excited about living at the Addams mansion at all. She wouldn't be surprised if she was already planning on buying a mansion of her own, in the suburbs no less.
"I'm glad you think so," Eudora admitted." Marriage is quite an adjustment"
"I imagine it is," she agreed politely.
"You're not very interested in getting married yourself, are you?" Eudora noticed.
"No more than I would be with spending the rest of my life in a purgatory," Morticia replied.
Eudora tilted her head and laughed heartily at her response.
"I was just like you once," she said.
"Oh? So what changed?"
"Well, I had a penchant for handsome men in uniforms," she smirked and Morticia couldn't help but laugh."Harald was and is one of a kind."
"If you're still so fond of him after all these years then it certainly must be love," Morticia supplied.
They both turned towards the sound of the footsteps behind them to see Gomez. Curiously, Morticia noticed, without his usual cigar.
Why did he always have to look so handsome? She thought he looked absolutely delicious in his red shirt and dark brown corduroy suit. He probably looked even more delicious without any of it.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he apologised."But Mrs Griffith is on the phone, she said it's urgent."
"Oh, Llewelyn is in my coven, you will have to forgive me for a moment, my dear," Eudora explained regrettably.
"Of course," Morticia nodded.
"Gomez, darling, would you keep Morticia company for a few minutes, please? I will be back as soon as I can," she assured."We were just on our way to visit the grandparents."
He only got a chance to nod before his mother left them all alone, which was not a good idea.
Such a bad idea, in fact.
"Did your mother say "coven"," Morticia asked him, pointing with her index finger in the direction of the mansion, where his mother just disappeared into and he smiled at the obvious disbelief in her tone.
"Yes ehm… they're getting busy this time of the year," he replied nonchalantly.
"Coven as in coven of witches?" she clarified.
He nodded.
"So… you're mother is a - "
"A witch," he supplied, genuinely amused.
"A witch," she repeated, nodding her head as she tried to process the information."A witch. Right, of course."
How did her sister, with her pastel personality, ended up married to an absolutely gorgeous man who lived in a wonderfully dark and gloomy mansion, with a cemetery, a family full of mad dark killers and psychopaths and a mother-in-law who belonged to a coven of witches?
What alternative universe was this and how could she escape? This was unbearable.
She should have never ever returned from Europe. What on earth had come over her?
"Your grandparents?" she asked, as they stopped under a huge tomb depicting two terrified people, shielding themselves with their hands.
"Grandfather and Grandmama Addams," he nodded."Killed while vacationing in Romania by an angry mob."
"Oh dear, that's so tragic."
"She was accused of witchcraft and it went downhill from there" he explained and cleared his throat." He...ehm...he loved her very much, he always said he would die and kill for her."
She smiled and turned towards him.
"That's sweet, they must have been quite a pair," she commented.
"They were," he whispered.
He suddenly couldn't focus on anything but those glorious lips.
"Do I make you nervous, Gomez?"
"No," he replied immediately."No, I - "
"You seem nervous," she pointed out.
"I'm not nervous," he assured but then cleared his throat again.
She did not make him nervous. Or maybe she did, he didn't know, he couldn't focus, she made him feel so many things and all at once, he wouldn't know where to start describing exactly how she made him feel.
He wanted to run away. He couldn't stand being in her company a minute longer. She was more wonderful than he could ever imagine. He wanted to run his fingers against that alabaster skin and the crimson of her lips. All he wanted was to fall on his knees before her and pledge his eternal love for her, he wanted to be lost in her forever. He wanted nothing but her.
She turned away from him to read the inscription on the tomb.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he blurted out loud and winced immediately as he watched her stiffen momentarily at his words.
She turned slowly towards him, a small knowing smile on her face as she regarded him intently.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
He didn't reply, he had no words to respond to her with. He was surely imagining things because there was no chance that she really asked him that.
Her fingers brushed his lightly but she might have as well whipped him and he grabbed her hand, pressing a firm kiss to the inside of her palm, wrapping his fingers around hers.
Her touch felt burning on his skin when she cupped his chin and turned his face towards her.
"Tell me what you want," she whispered.
He shook his head.
"I don't know," he replied meekly and moaned when she ran her thumb along his bottom lip.
"Oh, but you do."
"I can't - "
He shook his head again and closed his eyes, desperate to block the image of her from his mind but it was futile. Her presence alone assaulted his sense and he felt trapped in her, he couldn't move. He felt lost in her touch, the soft velvet of her voice made his insides burn.
"Is this what you want, Gomez?" she asked, barely brushing her lips against his.
It worked like a thunderbolt, his eyes snapped open and before she knew it his arm encircled her waist and she was pressed firmly against his body, she rested her hands against his broad chest almost instinctively. Her heart was beating so hard she was certain he could feel it. She almost whimpered when his lips crashed against hers, hard and intense and it felt so good it made her head spin. She wanted to melt into him, to savour the feel and taste of him. She deepened their kiss and felt him moan into her mouth before attacking her lips with such ferocity she could barely catch her breath.
She pressed herself against him and she slipped her fingers into his hair, just at the nape of his neck, moaning gently when she felt his palm caress her hip and gasped when he pressed her roughly against the cold stone of the tomb.
He didn't stop kissing her, his tongue duelled with hers until she felt her grip on reality slip rapidly and she couldn't focus on anything else but him.
"Gods, I can't," he moaned suddenly, in a tone of desperate plea and immediately let go of her and slammed his fist against the tomb and she jumped slightly at the suddenness of his action.
She rested her hands back on his chest, needing something to ground her and felt his body immediately tense under her touch. She didn't want this to stop, she didn't care who saw them, she wanted him so much, she wanted those lips back against hers.
"I'm sorry, I can't," he whispered before she could say anything and pulled away from her.
She blinked, suddenly disoriented by the loss of his warmth and watched him storm back towards the mansion.
She leaned against the large tomb and closed her eyes briefly, her legs felt weak, shaking. She has never felt like this with any man before. It felt insane.
Her whole body felt charged, electrified, her hands tingled with the need to touch him again. He felt so good, he tasted so good, absolutely intoxicating, better than anything she could have imagined and she knew that whatever qualms she's had about sleeping with him were rapidly deserting her.
It was abhorrent, both her thoughts and her actions but she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty over any of it. At this moment she didn't care about anything or anyone but to feel his body against hers again. She didn't care what that made her or who will get hurt in the process. All she cared about was him.
She reached and touched her lips, still tingling from his kisses, and smiled to herself.
Gomez barged into the library, breathless, and immediately reached for the crystal decanter and poured the amber liquid furiously into the glass, trying to calm his hammering heart. His hands felt clammy and shaking as he raised the glass to his lips and downed it in one go before pouring himself another one.
"You bastard," he whispered to himself, drying his hands against his trousers."You stupid, despicable bastard."
What kind of despicable human being behaved like that? He was married, for God's sake, and to her sister no less. And Vlad… gods, is it history repeating itself? Was there no respite for him?
Why her, oh good God, why did it have to be her?
If only she'd turn him down, if she told him to go to hell, if she didn't kiss him, if she -
The devil, what was he trying to prove? Why was he trying to put a blame on her?
She wasn't to blame because he knew he would pursue her relentlessly no matter what. If she asked him to divorce Ophelia this very second, he would. If she asked him to jump into a fire for her, he would. He was to blame, or maybe they both were but he was the one married.
And yet he knew he would do anything for her. He would die for her. He would kill for her.
He wanted her so much his blood was aflame at the mere sight of her.
He looked at the glass and frowned, noticing the crimson stains on the crystal and immediately touched his lips.
Her lipstick. Good Lord, what an absurd cliche, he thought as he licked his lips and instinctively reached for his silk handkerchief to wipe the evidence of his unsavoury misdeed.
He groaned at the idiocy of his action.
Nothing better than to have the said unsavoury evidence all over his handkerchief.
"Thing," he called.
The pet materialized next to him within seconds.
"Get rid of it," he handed him both the glass and the handkerchief.
Thing took the handkerchief from him and tapped.
"I don't know… throw it away, burn it," he barked and rubbed his palms against his face.
Thing tapped again, hesitantly.
"Yes, I'm aware it's not my wife's lipstick, just do what I said!"
He had to stay the hell away from her. This couldn't happen ever again. He will never touch her again -
"Thing, tell Lurch to prepare one extra set," he heard his mother's voice."I have invited Morticia to dine with us tonight."
A/N: Thank you for reading!
