Chapter 7 – Marielle
As I shut the door behind me, I sagged against it.
Why is my heart beating so fast?
It was all to crack his composure, right?
And, yes, I won.
I made him lose control, even if for five seconds.
But the answer I didn’t want to hear sang in my ears.
It hadn’t just cracked Eduard’s control. I had pushed mine, too.
The image of his heated gaze, his uncontrolled touch, didn’t go unnoticed. A very tiny part of me wished he hadn’t let me go. The smile was more of me reminding myself that I was just taking an opportunity than gloating about his defeat.
Sighing, I stripped as I went to the bathroom. Cooling off was the best way to get rid of the very unwelcome heat that threatened to make me lose focus.
My long shower was so comforting that I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed.
The cool breeze blew my hair, making it fly behind me like a flag as I strolled along the footpath. It was silent except for the low sound of leaves rustling in the wind. I walked on, moving from under the shadow of one tree to the other.
Stopping to inhale the sweet scent of flowers in the air, I broke into a satisfied smile.
“There you are! I was beginning to think you got lost,” he enthused, grinning.
“I know every part of your house like the back of my hand,” I disclosed, half-rolling my eyes at him.
He sat on a plaid blanket, his hands supporting his weight behind him.
My heart swelled with happiness and love as I crossed the distance to where he was.
“Baby,” he crooned, holding his hand out to pull me into him.
His hands came around me as I took in the sight of the colorful tulips, roses, and sunflowers that bordered the clearing.
“This place takes my breath away every single time,” I remarked, leaning into him.
“You take my breath away every single minute,” he revealed, his nose grazing the nape of my neck, making a shiver run through me.
A shaky chuckle left my lips.
“When I got your text, I thought you were trying to play hide-and-seek. I didn’t know it was a full-blown picnic.”
“I’ve been out and about for the past couple of days. I just wanted to slow down and spend time with the love of my life,” he disclosed.
“I want nothing more than time with you,” I replied, hugging his arms around me closer.
He dropped a kiss to the crown of my head.
“So, what do we start with? Grapes? Apples?” he inquired, pulling the small basket of fruits closer to us with his left hand.
We devoured more than half of the contents of the basket while chatting about the most ordinary things.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” he slurred, kissing my neck.
“Lucien, we see each other every day,” I pointed out, chuckling.
“I was out of town throughout yesterday.”
“And you got back before midnight.”
“That was too many hours without touching you, baby.”
He lay back, pulling me down with him and rolling around so he was hovering over me.
“I love how you make me feel,” I told him, looking up into his eyes.
He raised a questioning brow.
“You make me feel wanted, you know, like I’m the most important person in your life. You look at me like I’m the only one you see.”
He kissed the corner of my lips.
“Baby, you’re the most valuable to my heart.”
His lips covered mine, and I kissed back, my affection mingling with his desire. His tongue swiped my lower lip, and I gave him entrance. Our tongues danced to a tune dictated by our pacing hearts.
“We’d better stop here,” he rasped when we finally broke apart for air.
Chuckling, his head came down to the crook of my neck.
“You don’t make it easy, either,” I accused, my fingers getting lost in his hair.
He kissed my jaw before lifting his head to meet my gaze.
Striking gray-blue eyes stared right into mine.
It was Eduard.
“Marielle,” he uttered, his voice strained. “What are you doing to me?”
I woke up with a start.
My heart pounded heavily in my chest.
I screwed my eyes shut and threw them open again in disbelief.
Why the hell would I dream of Eduard?
Dragging myself to sit up against the dark headboard, I exhaled through my mouth, trying to calm my racing heart.
As my heart beat slowed, my eyes flicked over to the large clock hanging on the west wall.
2:45 am.
It was just a dream.
Yawning, I settled back beneath the covers.
Agatha’s knocks woke me up later that morning.
Her comments concerning my grogginess went unanswered as I ate mindlessly. My mind kept going back to my crazy dream. The utter bliss I felt was so real that remembering it made my chest ache.
The Eduard I saw in the dream seemed like a doppelganger of this self-contained Eduard. His eyes were a sharp contrast to the dead ones that stared back at me in real life.
My headache came from just one issue: Why did it bother me that the dream felt so real?
***
Soft knocks sounded, and I knew it was none other than Agatha.
“Come in,” I called, standing from the chair facing the dresser.
The door opened, and she came in with a tray.
“I could say this tray has become mine,” I commented. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Marielle.”
Her usual smile brightened her face as she deposited the tray on the stool.
“You look well. Better,” she pointed out as she straightened.
“In other words, the bruises on my face are fading.”
I walked over to the edge of the bed, pulling the stool closer to myself.
Agatha took a seat on the couch.
“Thanks for the clothes. I was honestly not expecting that many.”
“Many? I just mixed up a couple of casuals. I didn’t know what you’d prefer. Your red dress was the only point of reference I had.”
“Well, I was expecting just a pair or two. Prisoners don’t always get a wardrobe.”
“You’re not a prisoner. You’re far from it, I tell you.”
“So, what am I?”
“Work-in-progress?”
We both burst into laughter at her weird remark.
“I still find it hard to believe you were born into this world. What is a normal person like you doing here?”
“Things are not always the way they seem, Marielle.”
“A bit of a cliche, if you ask me.”
“Maybe. But it’s the truth.”
“Is your husband one of them? I mean, you once told me he also belongs in the criminal world.”
“Not really.” She gesticulated with her hands. “He works with the Bratva, but he’s not with them like Ivan and the rest of the guys you see around. Every Mafia has a boss; here, he’s the Pakhan. Then there’s the consigliere, more like the legal consultant, the legal advocate.”
I mouthed a ‘wow.’
“Then, the underboss is the next-in-line; he’s to take over from the boss.
Now, most of those guys you see around are brigadiers, or crew bosses.
A crew boss has his own soldiers under him.
My husband is somewhere between a soldier and a crew boss.
He’s an affiliate. Affiliates are like…freelancers.
They render their services to not just one Mafia. ”
“Sounds like a government class.”
“It is a government,” she confirmed, nodding.
I laid my utensils beside the plate.
“Are you full? So soon?”
“I’m afraid so,” I drawled, sighing.
She moved to carry the tray when I spoke.
“I could use the company for a bit.”
She smiled, sitting back.
“You’re aware that they no longer lock your door, right? You can always come to the kitchen, meet the others, interact a little with younger people like yourself, not an old lady like myself.”
“Of course, I was out the moment I heard the door unlock.” Memories of my brief but heated moment with Eduard last night filled my mind again. “Maybe staying here is safer for me. Who knows how many Mafia men are lurking around?”
“No, they won’t hurt you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Except one person in particular.
“I hear you.”
“You could even have your meals in the kitchen with us or in the dining room. Sir Eduard rarely eats at regular times; you don’t have to worry about running into him.”
“I’m not worried about running into him,” I argued.
“Really?” she asked, a knowing smile on her face.
“I’m not scared of him.”
I’m just scared of what his presence can do to me.
“Even his men are scared of him; they melt with just one look from him. And these are men that can take bullets out of their own bodies.”
I shrugged. “Are you afraid of him?”
“I barely have any contact with him.”
“See? And you’re a woman, just like me.”
After another few minutes, Agatha left my room, not without eliciting a promise to step out soon from me.
I hadn’t reached the bathroom door when I heard another knock.
I stood frozen mid-step, tongue-tied.
Eduard?
“I’m coming in,” a masculine voice called from the other side of the door.
That was definitely not Eduard’s voice. I had only heard it twice, but the depth it carried was unmistakable.
“Hi,” he greeted, closing the door behind him but remaining in the entryway.
It was the guy who always ushered Agatha in when my door was still locked.
“Hi,” I answered, instinctively walking over to the edge of the bed.
“Relax,” he uttered, a crooked smile on his face. “I simply came to check on you.”
I sat, facing him without a response.
“How are you coping with being here?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He inclined his head like he was actually considering his response. “Yes.”
“As well as one can cope with being in a prison. Without shitty food, that is.”
“Not an excuse, but…it wasn’t our intention.”
“Yeah, you thought I was Lucien’s wife because you saw me with him one time. Your almighty boss said as much.”
He chuckled.
“Is there anything you want? Anything that can make you feel less…restricted?”
“You mean, aside from letting me out of here?”
“You’re in too deep.”
“Right.” I let out a gust of air through my mouth. “Lucky me.”
“I don’t need anything. I’m fine,” I added.
“Okay,” he vocalized.
Just as he turned around, I asked, “What’s your name?”
His back was against the door again.
“Ruslan. And you are?”
“Marielle,” I answered. “Actually, there’s something I need.”
“Okay….”
“My purse. I had it on me that night. I woke up here without it, even my heels.”
“You need your purse and your heels?” he inquired, an amused expression on his face.
“I need my phone. It was in the purse.”
“Want to mobilize your cavalry?”
“I have nobody to call,” I dropped. “I just need it with me to keep myself sane.”
“I’ll ask the boss.”
I nodded.
“That’ll be all, kind sir.”
“You have a strange disposition,” he uttered, turning around.
I was alone again.
***
It was the second night after my encounter with Eduard.
And it was the second time I was wandering the hallways since then.
There was something alluringly forbidden about walking about in the dim lights. Underneath that, however, was the chance of running into Eduard again.
It was a possibility that made my body tingle with both anticipation and fear.
As I walked back to my room, I noticed a turn at the opposite end of the hallway. Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked toward it.
It wasn’t another long hallway, just a few steps, and I was standing in front of double wooden doors.
I pushed open one of the doors, and a mix of old books and dust hit my nose. The room was even bigger than I had imagined. As the door shut behind me, I felt like a child stepping into another time—an older one.
The lights were off, but the evening moonlight that slipped in through the large windows was enough for me to see every part of the room.
Large bookshelves lined the east walls while instruments lined the west walls.
Tucked beneath a stained glass window along the west wall was the instrument that caught my attention.
A black, gleaming, grand piano.
Walking over to it, I realized it was the only instrument that had no layer of dust on it.
I took the sheet music from the piano, wondering who owned it.
The handwritten notes in precise script made me think of Edward.
But that was an impossibility. Then I saw the initials at the top corner of the last page.
Y.
It was Eduard’s.
It was difficult to reconcile something so human with the criminal who took me.
By sheer force of habit, my fingers came down on a few keys. The soft sound filled the room, almost encouraging me to go on. But then, I made an error, and then another. I stopped.
It’s been so long.
I went out of the room and back to my room.
After tossing and turning endlessly, I gave up and sat up.
My legs were taking me back to the double-door room before I made the conscious decision to do so. I heard sounds from the crack of the door before I got to it. Pushing it open, I was met with a surprising scene.
Eduard sat facing the piano, producing a soft melody too intricate for an amateur to put together.
I stood there, my face pressed to the door, watching him play like it was what he was made for. It was just a man and his ghosts, no mask or audience.
It evoked memories of my teenage years.
“Marielle? Oh, wow!” my dad exclaimed, coming down the stairs to where I played the grand piano.
“How…where did you learn that?”
“I’ve heard you play this many times,” I remarked casually, my fingers gliding over the keys.
“This is different, and you know it. You’re talented at this, Marielle.”
“I’m glad you have one proper talent,” my mom commented, joining us, my brother’s school bag in her hand.
Bringing my mind back to the present, he played on like he had no plans of ever stopping.
He seemed so real and ordinary, so different from the storm of a criminal I knew him to be. Not the heartless villain in bespoke suits. That simple realization flickered something to life inside me. Something I didn’t have a name for.
I observed Eduard’s long fingers as they moved effortlessly. The parts of my waist that those fingers touched a few nights ago tingled with memory.
It upset me that my body seemed to betray me.
He was still Eduard, the man who abducted me.
I swallowed, realizing I had been standing there for a while.
Heart unsteady, pulse racing, I hurried back to my room. But even as I left the room, I couldn’t escape the fact that watching him play pulled me back to the piano. And, even more frustrating, it pulled me to him.