Chapter 2 #2
“We should take our seats, dear,” I said lightly despite the palpitations.
“It was a pleasure to see you, Andrew, Lottie.” I nodded to both and presented my arm to Mimi, who rewarded me with a deathly stare.
I waited, holding her gaze. She looked around at the photographer, then took my arm, barely containing a scowl.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she whispered as I led us to my family’s box.
“Enjoying a night at the opera.”
The soprano playing Violetta sang from her sick bed, which in this Hollywood retelling was an enormous, and utterly ridiculous, California king.
I’d been impressed with the soprano, who, despite some questionable direction, had held the audience’s attention with her emotional range and powerful voice.
It had saved an otherwise dire performance.
Yet, as the final act drew to a close, I was losing concentration.
It wasn’t the singer’s fault but rather Mimi, who was kneeling between my legs, attempting to bring me to a crescendo with her mouth.
I’d learnt early on that there was little point in resisting her advances, even when I was less than in the mood. If anything, it spurred her on like a hound on the hunt. I’d humiliated her tonight, and now she would have her petty revenge, as well-rehearsed as the play in front of us.
My heart pounded in my chest as Violetta sang in triumph on stage before her life reached its inevitable end.
Mimi’s head bobbed as her sharp, manicured nails grazed my shaft.
It gave me an edge of pain that satisfied a deep loathing within.
Violetta rose from her giant bed, exclaiming the miracle of her recovery to the audience in a high-pitched crescendo.
My nails clawed the red velvet covering the armrests.
Violetta fell dead in Alfredo’s arms, who drew her to the floor, sobbing in grief.
The audience erupted in applause as I came with a resigned sigh.
The curtain closed, and I handed Mimi my handkerchief before making myself decent. She wiped her mouth and sat back on her heels, looking victorious. I clapped slowly, my gaze fixed on her.
I can’t keep going with this farce.
The curtain opened, revealing the cast ready to take their bow. Several of the audience in the front few rows had stood in appreciation of their performance, but I couldn’t stay. I helped Mimi up and grabbed her clutch.
“What the hell is your problem?” she hissed as I led her out. “You know what the deal is, and yet you resist.”
“Fuck the deal,” I hissed back.
“What did you say?” She snatched the clutch and tossed the used handkerchief at me.
“I’m not taking part in this sham anymore. We’re done!” I pocketed the rag and strode down the staircase, the sound of muffled applause from the auditorium following me.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me! I know you, Alex. I know what you need and what’s required. We will never be over.” She swiped her words to the back of my head as she followed me onto Bow Street.
I turned, resolved. “Evan will take you back to the apartment, but you should return to your parents within the week. You can take what you like, but I’m not keeping you anymore.”
“You’re breaking up with me tonight? And after I’ve just sucked you off!”
“We shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have,” I tripped out, feeling like the pig I was. “But can’t you see that’s part of it? We’re toxic, Mi. We’d be miserable and resentful, just like Lottie and Andrew. Is that what you want?”
“What are you talking about? We’re a perfect fit!” Mimi barked. “Is this about the broken condom, because I told you that was an accident?”
“It’s about trust. It’s about chemistry. Neither of which we have.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I was made for you, and you dare treat me like a whore?” The slap she landed was so vicious that I was struck by old memories.
Some passers-by on the opposite side of the street stared at us, and I prayed no paparazzi were loitering, although these days, everyone had a camera in their pocket in any case.
“You can have that one,” I said, rubbing my cheek where a metallic taste lingered. Evan brought the blacked-out Range Rover to the kerb, and I opened the rear door, waiting.
Mimi hesitated, her cogs spinning as she considered her situation.
Then, her expression loosened. “Dahling,” she cooed, walking over.
“I shouldn’t have struck you. We’re both tired.
All I’m trying to do is make this easier for you, don’t you see?
I only ever think of you, dear heart. Let’s talk tomorrow once we’ve calmed down. ”
“I can’t fake it anymore, Mi.”
She draped herself into the back seat and turned to me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Be careful, Alex. You don’t want to alienate your friends and family, especially when our parents are so close. It will devastate your mother.”
I lowered to her face. “Don’t ever threaten my family, Miriam, or I promise you’ll regret it.”
“Goodnight, dear heart.” She blew me a kiss as I closed the door, obscuring her smirk from view.
When I reached the top floor of Toverton Tower, the smart lights blinked on, signalling Evelyn had left sometime before. I loosened my bow-tie and poured a generous measure of vintage Macallan, then removed the small leather heart box from my pocket.
Inside sat the proposal ring passed down through twelve generations of Toverton heirs. I locked it in my desk drawer and took my glass over to the window where night had set in, illuminating the capital all the way to the horizon.
Raising my glass in hope, I drank until it was empty.