Chapter 9 – Marielle
After watching Eduard play the grand piano that one night, I hesitated to go to the large room. I ignored the call of the instrument I used to love playing because I didn’t want to risk repeating that night.
I didn’t want the soft feeling that fluttered in my chest as I watched him produce those beautiful sounds. I didn’t like the way I was beginning to see him as a man, without the criminal mask he always wore.
But I found myself going into that room again.
Eduard wasn’t there. I walked up to the piano, sat in the chair, but didn’t play.
I went through the sheet music that looked like it had seen many years.
The neatness of the handwritten scripts didn’t surprise me much.
Eduard looked like the type who couldn’t ever be caught doing anything sloppily; his level gaze and smooth walking steps told me that much.
I left shortly after, my hand not touching the keys.
I headed over to the kitchen, following the directions Agatha had given me earlier.
The kitchen was bigger than the room I slept in. I snuffed out my amazement with the thought that they were criminals who had too much money.
There were two gray and white marble islands, each surrounded by a few small chairs.
To the left, a deep freezer stood next to a large standing refrigerator.
A marble countertop ran along the wall beside the refrigerator.
Two sinks extended into a countertop that reached the end of the walls facing the doorway I stood glued to.
To the far right were the gas cookers and ovens.
Feeling the curious eyes of the lady mixing some kind of yellowish dough on the island, I took a cautious step into the kitchen.
From the slip in her chef’s cap, I could see she was a redhead. She was, at least, a few inches taller and looked a few years older, too.
“Who are you?’ she questioned in a not-so-friendly voice.
“Hi. I—”
“Marielle!” Agatha’s voice interrupted mine.
She closed the oven and walked over to me.
“Hi. I didn’t know you’d be busy. I’ll leave now. I shouldn’t disturb.”
“Disturb? Come off it,” she argued, waving a dismissive flour-covered hand. “We don’t mind the company. Besides, you could learn about those meals you always compliment. Or maybe give us a hand with one of two.”
Before I could think of an exit strategy, she turned to the other lady beside the oven.
“This is Marielle,” she told her.
“Oh,” the lady uttered, smiling. “I’m Sofia.”
“Hi, Sofia.”
Returning her smile was unconscious; she seemed like a nice person. Her brown eyes were a shade darker than her hair. Unlike Agatha and the other lady, she didn’t wear an apron or a cap.
“That’s Mila,” Agatha revealed, gesturing toward the other lady.
“Mila,” she called, making the lady turn toward us with a straight expression. “This is Marielle.”
“We’ve met,” was Mila’s curt reply.
“I thought you were…” Sofia uttered, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “Older.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t mind me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine.”
“We were baking cookies and some other pastries. Going low on snacks causes some level of madness around here, I tell you. We’ll get started with dinner soon,” Agatha explained. “Maybe you could help us prep?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Sit down,” Sofia offered, pulling out the chair at the head of the second island for me.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” she answered, sitting on the chair next to mine.
I noticed she had a dimple on her right cheek.
My guess was that she was the youngest, while Agatha was, of course, the oldest.
I was washing my hands and cutting potatoes and veggies before I knew it.
As we worked, Sofia gestured with her chin toward Mila, who was now doing dishes.
“Don’t mind Mila,” she told me. “She was brought here to pay someone’s debt, just like you. She hopes to catch Sir Eduard’s eye. Whenever any of his lovers come around, she’s always bitter. Anyone who has a bit of his attention is a problem to her.”
I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t here to pay anyone’s debt, but instead, I asked, “Eduard’s attention? How…?”
“The boss particularly asked us to feed you well. He only speaks to us once in a blue moon.”
Oh.
I looked over to Mila.
The reason was secondary; the fact remained that, just like me, she wasn’t in this house by choice.
I sighed.
I didn’t want to be Mila.
Whether or not she eventually caught his eye.
I couldn’t just sit in my captor’s house with his attraction toward me being the only thing I lived for.
No.
“She can relax. He just said so because of who he thought I was,” I told Sofia.
“He didn’t just say it once,” she insisted.
“Maybe we should do more of working and less of chatting,” Agatha said, suddenly showing up behind us.
Sofia and I chuckled like kids caught licking hidden candy.
I liked them.
But it wasn’t enough for me to choose to stay here.
Well, that would be assuming I had a choice.
***
Since Ruslan told me about the study, I knew it would become my second sanctuary. I didn’t just like reading books; I liked being around them. Reading was one of the childhood hobbies that I never stopped pursuing, unlike playing the piano.
After opening the wrong door, I finally found the study. I wasn’t even surprised at the impossibly large size of the room; this mansion had to be palace-sized.
The room was empty, and only rows of tall shelves greeted me from left and right.
The center of the room was just empty space. There were chairs and tables by the wall facing the door.
I looked through the shelves.
From the alphabetically arranged entries to the tags over each shelf, the study proved to be a library of international standards.
I didn’t know what to expect when I heard about the study, but it was definitely not this.
Which made it another unbelievable facet of the multilayered man who was Eduard.
What kind of mob boss would keep such an amazing library, consisting not only of books about power and war, but also fiction and science books?
Pushing the thought to the back of my mind, I looked through the fiction shelves and eventually decided on a novel. The blurb on the back page drew me in.
I went over to one of the chairs by the window and settled there. Minutes turned into hours, and I wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for my rumbling stomach.
I yawned, not just hungry but thirsty.
I considered taking the book with me, but decided against it.
Who knows what attracts what kind of penalty here?
I heard the sound of the door as I returned the book to its place.
Coming out to the center of the room, I found Eduard walking in my direction.
I was stunned. I had expected to see Ruslan or even Agatha; they had told me they frequented the study.
His face was inexpressive.
Why should I be any different?
I walked on like running into him was the most common thing that could happen.
Then, something happened that shook my calm.
Our hands brushed.
He pushed me back to the shelf behind me before I could blink.
I saw his jaws clench before he warned, “Don’t tempt me. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Refusing to show any hints of what effect our closeness did to me, I smirked.
As I walked past him and left the room, the tips of my fingers that touched his cool ones tingled.
***
After eating and chatting for hours in the kitchen, I returned to the study. When I asked her, Agatha had assured me that I could take the book to my room.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the book; I doubted I’d be able to sleep if I didn’t reach the end of the gripping story. There was also the teeny weeny bit of excitement at the thought of meeting Eduard there.
The study was empty.
I picked up the book and left.
As I went back toward my room, the tranquility of the hallway made me change my mind.
I’ll just read here.
So I brought a blanket from the room and wrapped it around my legs as I sat close to my door.
Perfect.
I buried myself in the story.
“Marielle? Are you okay?” Agatha called.
Still sniffling, I wiped my face with the back of my hand as I looked up to find her approaching.
“I’m fine,” I answered, chuckling in spite of myself.
“Are you sure? I’m going home, so I thought to let you know the milk cookies are now cool enough so you can help yourself to some.”
“Oh, thanks. That’ll be tomorrow.”
“Sad story?”
“So sad,” I answered, a fresh batch of tears threatening to spill. “It’s sad how we have no choice in what type of families we’re born into.”
“Very true,” Agatha agreed before chuckling. “I never thought you were the type to cry over a sad story.”
“Funny, right?” I asked, wiping my face again.
She shook her head from side to side, but her pursed lips said otherwise.
Such a kid in an adult’s body.
I rose to my feet.
“Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” I rasped.
As I returned the book and got ready for bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the main character in the book was similar to me.
I considered the possibility that Eduard might not have had a choice in becoming a mob boss.
I thought of Agatha and how she was also born into the criminal world.
If it were so easy to leave, she would have left.
Right?
What if Eduard had no choice, too?
***
I couldn’t be called a late riser, but I wasn’t much of an early riser, either.
But on Sunday, I woke up too early.
I had a long bath and went to the kitchen. They were just starting to make breakfast, so I stayed, even though I had nothing important to help them with.
“How did you get here?” I found myself asking Sofia.
She gave me a small, dimpled smile.
“My dad is Uncle Max’s elder brother.”
Seeing my confusion, she explained, pointing at Agatha. “Uncle Max is her husband.”
“Oh…so, you were also born into this world. But should you be in school?”
“My father won’t allow it,” she revealed, shaking her head in the negative.
“Oh….”
“But I want to be a big chef and open a restaurant,” she disclosed, grinning.
“Okay, that’s cool.”