Chapter 11
DAISY
Hours later, I’m almost done for the day.
A batch of Envy is nearly made and I haven’t gone upstairs all day.
I tell myself I’m not hiding, but the truth is, I feel less antsy while I’m working, and while I’m alone.
The bad experiences of the past few days don’t feel so close to the surface when I’m focused, and I like the enclosed space.
I feel oddly safe and secure. Invisible.
Halfway through the last stage, I turn off all the lights and I sit in the dark. I don’t cry, but I feel numb.
I should be having feelings and maybe I am, deep down. I know that it’s healthy and normal to have them and that I need to work through what has happened. But besides anger when I think about how I was treated, there’s nothing else I can name right now.
An alarm sounds and I get up with a sigh to turn the lights back on and finish up.
There's no one waiting for me as I go up the ladder to the upper level basement. I hear the chatter of the employees behind the double doors where the laundry is located and I see the door to the room I was first brought to when Sauvage had me snatched.
I go past to the bank of elevators around the corner and press the upward arrow. When the nearest one opens, I use the keycard that was waiting for me in the lab this morning with a sticky note on it that said ‘for penthouse access’ on the reader inside, and I push the topmost button.
The elevator rises slowly and I half listen to the background music that’s coming from a speaker overhead.
It’s soothing. The door pings and it opens into the living room of the penthouse Sauvage is letting us stay in.
It sort of reminds me of guest bedrooms in the Novelle house with the same gray tones and patterns, and I wonder if everyone just uses the same interior designer in Richmond.
The clock says it’s about twenty minutes to eight.
I had no idea I’d been down in the lab for that long and I'm conscious that I’m meant to be meeting with Sauvage soon in the restaurant downstairs for dinner.
I look down at the clothes I’ve been wearing for days.
I don't have time for a shower, but I can at least make myself look a little more presentable.
I call out for the guys, but I’m met with silence. I glance at my phone, which doesn't get a signal downstairs, and belatedly see a message telling me that Blake and Mav are exploring the way out through the tunnels under the hotel that they were shown this morning with Shade.
I wander into the bedroom, wondering what I'm going to wear. When I open the closet—expecting it to be empty—I find my clothes hanging there. I check the bureau drawers and smile a little. The guys have brought me some of my stuff from the KIP house.
I close the bedroom door firmly. I don't want anyone walking in on me and seeing the Stinger wrapped around my thigh.
I strip down and go into the bathroom to wash my face and I notice that a lot of my toiletries are also waiting for me on the side.
Another small smile alights my face. I missed them so much.
The guys, too.
I frown a little as I look down. They deserve better than someone like me, who can’t even tell them what happened to me, or why I thought that Sauvage was a better option.
Nasty Nurse’s hateful words about my body and appearance echo through my mind and I silence them ruthlessly.
She’s not here and everything she said and did was to hurt and subdue me. I won’t let her and Joe win.
But as I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like a shadow, a blank piece of paper. Maybe they have already won.
With a sigh, I put on a little mascara and some lip gloss, just to freshen up my face–hide the brokenness.
I pick some black dress pants, pairing them with a large knit sweater that hangs off one shoulder.
I grimace as I put on the underwear; it doesn't sit right because of the straps holding the stinger in place, but I try not to think about it.
I throw on the rest of the clothes, take a final look at myself in the mirror, grab my key card, and go back into the elevator.
I press the button for the first floor, hoping the bank of elevators doesn't open into a crowded spot in the lobby.
The last thing I need is to be randomly recognized because a mechanical box stopped in the wrong place.
Surely Sauvage would have told me if I needed to go a different way though.
When the doors open, I find myself in a small corridor where no one is watching—bar the camera in one corner. I walk down the hallway looking for signs to the restaurant.
A brown-haired woman in a black skirt and blazer steps into my path about half a minute later as if she’s been waiting for me. I take a step back, ready to run, but she just stands in front of me and gives me a nod.
'Hi, I'm Anne.’ She points to the name badge on her label. ‘I brought you some refreshments downstairs this morning.’
‘Oh. Yeah. I remember.’
She smiles a little. ‘Mr. Sauvage has asked me to lead you to the private dining area.'
‘Oh, okay. Thanks.’
‘Of course.’
She turns on her heel, walking quite quickly down the corridor.
I follow without a word, and she leads me through some double doors at the end of the hall into a small, private dining room.
I can hear the murmur of conversation behind a screen, so I know I’m very close to the main restaurant, but no one can see me here.
Pierre Sauvage is already sitting at the head of the table like a king.
The settings are elaborate, with every piece of cutlery and extra plate imaginable.
I’m suddenly grateful to the hateful Ms. Tremaine at The Heath for driving table etiquette into me for two years because I actually know what each fork and plate is for.
When the Frenchman sees me, he stands and gives me a small bow.
'Miss Evans,' he purrs, 'how was your first day in my beautiful lab? You have everything you need, oui?'
'It was good,' I say with a nod, letting him pull out the high-backed chair to his left for me.
I sit as gracefully as I can, mostly because of Tremaine’s rules from when I was a kid.
Pierre Sauvage sniffs almost delicately. 'And where are your… three stooges?' he asks.
I frown at him. I know he’s not happy that I made Shade, Mav, and Blake part of this, but I don't like the way he speaks about my guys at all.
‘I know we have a deal,' I begin, but he stops me with a hand raised between us.
'I see you do not like this. My little names for them—'
'No,' I interrupt quite coldly. 'I don't.'
He shrugs. 'Then, of course, Mademoiselle, I shall speak of them only with respect in your presence.'
'Thank you,' I say quietly.
'And where are your paramours?' he continues, taking out his phone.
‘Mav and Blake are showing Shade the tunnels,' I say. 'But they know that dinner is at eight, so they should be here soon.'
He nods. 'We will start without them. I have, how you say, a schedule to keep.’
He doesn't say anything else, but I assume he requests food with his phone because a minute later the doors open and a line of waiters in white and black bring multiple steaming dishes, setting them on the table.
'I didn't know what you would enjoy, so I took the liberty of choosing the finest dishes from my restaurant’s menu.'
'Thank you,' I say quietly, eyeing the lobster with distrust.
He peers at me. 'You seem—well rested.’
I wonder if he’s saying I haven’t been working hard enough.
‘I was in the lab all day from nine,’ I explain, a little affronted.
‘No, chéri. I mean, you look better,' he elaborates, and I get the sense that I’ve amused him. ‘Not so exhausted and pale. Not so…à moitié mort half dead.’
‘Oh.’ I give him a wry grin. ‘I’d hope I do look better than when you first saw me,' I say with a self-deprecating chuckle.
He looks at his fingernails, making no move to touch the food yet, so I don’t either, even though I’m eyeing some bao buns and chicken skewers with interest.
'I have been watching your fiancé and his people— They are looking for you.'
My appetite evaporates immediately at his words. I shudder almost involuntarily, and I think he picks up on the action. His eyes narrow very slightly and he sits back, steepling his fingers. 'I shall have him killed for you, if you wish it, ma petite fleur.'
'Really? You’d do that?’ My eyebrows rise. ‘Why? We hardly know each other.'
‘It would solve many problems,' he says. ‘For you and for me.’
I glance at him and swallow hard.
‘Could you kill all of my enemies?' I ask, only half joking.
'If you wish it, Mademoiselle Evans,' he answers cryptically, 'but payment would be required. Only the first would be free.’
He smiles as if he’s made a joke, but I don’t get it.
‘Money?’ I ask.
'Perhaps, perhaps not,' he shrugs. ‘But I am not so selfless as I seem.’
My mind flashes to my conversation with his right hand man, Thomas, on the first day I came here regarding this French gangster’s bedroom proclivities.
'I do like you,' I say, watching him very closely to gauge his reaction, ‘and I know that I went into your bed cage the other day. I’m sorry if that gave you the wrong idea, Monsieur Sauvage, but I don’t want to…sleep in it with you. Our arrangement is purely business. Do you understand?’
He doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he throws back his head and laughs heartily.
'I do not want you there, chéri,’ he chuckles. ‘You are beautiful, but I am…a brown leaf, and you a new blossom. And call me Pierre. I will allow it in your case.'
I blink. 'Okay.’
He regards me impassively and shakes his head at me.
‘As I say, the Bandervilles search for you. Though,’ he cants his head as he looks at me, ‘it is odd.’
‘What is?’
‘The family. Their actions seem…desperate. Even Joseph, the father, he makes many enquiries around the city and beyond. Why do they want you back so badly? It is not love that motivates them, I think.’