Chapter 46
CALISTA
The heiress is the one person I’ve always enjoyed visiting in this town.
Escaping the confines of Drache Manor for a little while, losing myself in Tahira Malik’s frigid presence and warm body until our time together comes to an end.
It is a short period I have always appreciated, even anticipated at times.
But that does not seem to be the case today.
“Miss Drache?”
The servant clears his throat, attempting to catch my attention yet again.
“The heiress will see you now.” He hesitates, glancing around the vacant room before landing back on me, “Please follow me.”
I follow him through the grand entrance of the Malik Palace, white marble gleaming from every direction. It’s a smaller replica of their fortress in the Middle East, an Arabic castle that had to be downsized due to the limiting confines of Wolf Hollow’s borders.
A catastrophic moment for Jaafar’s ego, I am sure.
Crimson carpets and gold-infused tapestries decorate the vast space, an endless display of wealth that resembles an extravagant cave of wonders.
Pillars and guards stand in unison throughout the palace, their stoic expressions and silent presence the perfect addition to the hollow halls and empty rooms.
The Malik family crest hisses out above the arch of each doorway, the golden coil of a cobra spewing venom and wicked promises down on anyone who dares to enter. Fangs pierce through the impenetrable stone, Jaafar's love of executions radiating through hypnotizing ruby eyes.
“Miss Malik has been waiting for you.” The servant stutters softly, the slight lilt in his voice matching the nervous dart of his eyes, “She has been quite... restless lately.”
“Marriage will do that to a woman.” My flippant response has his eyes widening, “Particularly one that is neither desired nor necessary.”
“The master knows what is best for his daughter.”
His back straightens, the cream coloured uniform laced with a single gold thread, a simple drop of the tycoon’s fortune.
“Just as he knows what is best for us all.”
“If that is the case then I do hope Jaafar finds himself unsatisfied with Wolf Hollow’s borders.” My brow lifts, amusement and an underlying challenge filtering through my voice, “For his reign would not last long among the animals of this town.”
A pink flush darkens the man’s cheeks, his lips pinching together as though he’s decided his tongue is worth keeping after all.
“Calista. There you are.”
Annoyance laces Tahira’s tone, a displeasure that does not go unnoticed by the servants mingling around her. Platters of food on sparkling trays, flutes of champagne and the world’s largest artificial leaves create a cooling wind over the billionaire’s daughter lounging on a golden throne.
Her crop top does not do much to cover the generous curves I have always been envious of. The bust that’s filled my hands on countless occasions now peeks out beneath a dangerously low slit, an opening that teases piercings and jewellery decorating the brown skin hiding underneath.
“What took you so long?”
The question is aimed at me, but it is the servant who bows his head.
“My deepest apologies. There was a matter of miscommunication that led to our delay.”
The sharp cut of her eyes has him making a hasty retreat.
“But now that Miss Drache has arrived, I shall attend to my other duties.”
“See that no other miscommunication befalls you.” Irritation creases her brows as she swings her head towards the servants idling nearby, “And as for the rest of you. Get out of my sight.”
It’s a command made by a spoilt bitch who knows her power. A single look from the heiress has the helpers running for the closest door, mounds of fruit spilling across marble floors as they make a hasty exit.
A bundle of grapes hits the marble and green bulbs scatter in every direction. One bumps quietly into the sole of my red bottoms, a surprisingly pleasant offer for my hungry state.
“I see my new friend wasn’t kidding about your high spirits.” Picking the grape off the polished marble, I pop it into my mouth and chew thoughtfully, “Does throwing temper tantrums make you feel better or is this in preparation for your wifely duties?”
“If you insist on calling me a bitch, why do you bother visiting?”
“Because I happen to enjoy your presence even when you’re being a bitch.” Casting my eyes around the empty room, my lips peel back into a smirk, “And I don’t see anyone else willing to tolerate your mood swings.”
Tahira sighs, pressing immaculate fingernails into her tired eyes.
“You are too sensible for this early in the morning.”
“It’s almost noon.”
“Like I said, too early in the morning.” Smearing the perfect lines of her makeup, Tahira looks at me with eyebags heavy enough to trigger concern, “Though I suppose someone must bring sensibility to this place.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
She lets out a snort, a mild sound of amusement that’s about as close as I’ll get to Tahira Malik’s real laughter.
“Thank you for coming, Calista.”
“You are most welcome.” Glancing around the bedazzled room, I purse my lips together, “Your father truly does have the worst taste in decoration. Contrary to popular belief, gold does not look good with everything.”
“An argument I have lost too many times to count.”
She lets out another sigh, casting a glance around the trinkets dangling from every corner of the room. Lanterns and lamps of every shape and size adorn an entire wall while a fleet of magic carpets decorates the other.
“Come on. I’ll show you the dresses I brought for the gala tomorrow.”
We leave the ostentatious display of wealth to enter another. A mansion dubbed as a bedroom, Tahira’s residence occupies the west wing in its entirety. Twelve foot ceilings, arched doorways and more coiled snakes slither past the paradise that resembles an empty keyhole.
A lock still searching for its key.
“I wasn’t sure what shade you would prefer, black or your usual black, so I played it safe and brought both.” A smirk creeps across her breathtaking features as we come to a stop in front of the wall dedicated to her clothes, “Figured you’d want more than a few options to reject.”
“I do love shooting down your suggestions.”
Tilting my head, I study the hangers dressed in the world’s finest silk. Bursting with colour and strips of fabric, Tahira’s closest is better suited for women with taste than the likes of me.
“It is a shame leather isn’t welcome at mother’s gala.”
“You would be the only person to think that.” Reaching up, she grabs a couple of hangers and pulls them out for my inspection, “How do these look?”
“Not quite what I had in mind.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Shuffling the mounds of clothes further down the line, Tahira resumes her search, “Which is why I brought plenty of backups.”
My heels click along the floors as I make my way to her bed. Lay back and watch the tycoon’s heiress do what she does best.
Find a way to dress up and play the part.
“Have you found a suitor? My invitation arrived a couple of days ago.” Rearranging her pillows, I make myself comfortable, “Sounds like it will be quite the affair.”
“No, though it is due to no fault of my own.” She gives me a pointed look, “My ideal suitor is still undecided-
“The answer is still no.”
“Then I am no closer to finding a suitor than I was six months ago.” Distress flutters past her expression like a leaf caught in the wind.
Gone just as quickly as it arrives.
“Though speaking of affairs, I heard Marlin Seaborn was seen outside Hollow House last night. The same night a massacre led to nearly a dozen guards being slain in the Andreas Morgue.” Her eyes dance towards mine, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Sounds like the act of a madman.”
“Mm, a madman who came from across the sea. The thief was also spotted that night, although recounts on his disposition vary from person to person.” Her tongue clicks playfully against her teeth, “A charming man who wears the badge of an animal. Sounds like someone else I know.”
“How fascinating.”
“Oh, don’t be coy with me, Calista.” Tahira glances at me over her shoulder, “You fucked him, didn’t you?”
I stare back at her, seeing the easy demeanour we’ve always carried towards these encounters. The tales we exchange of men who fall short of our satisfaction only to use it as foreplay for our own.
“I’ve heard he’s covered in tattoos. Has the bad boy aura down to an art with an accent to match.” Her smile widens with the lift of her brow, “And his hair is supposedly darker than mine. Checking nearly every one of your boxes.”
My eyes flit to the material held between her fingers, the strands of black fabric I’ve always thought pair well with my soul.
“Not a fan of those, either.”
Tahira lets them fall to the floor. Impossibly expensive gowns wrinkling in their prone position as she walks towards the bed.
“It’s not like you to take a man to bed without me.”
Her weight indents the mattress, pushing my body toward hers. I watch her crawl towards me with a knowing smile, the confidence of a woman who knows what she wants and knows how to get it.
Long waves of thick brown hair ripple past flawless skin, a deep chocolate colour that pairs immaculately with the ruby sparkling from her belly button. Her dark eyes meet mine, lips curled up in a seductive smile as she slithers her way up my body.
“Did you have fun without me? Take some notes on men’s many failures?”
Her breath fans out across my lips, warm and so familiar it feels wrong in all the worst ways.
“You can tell me, baby. I’ll make it up to you.”
Tahira leans in for a kiss, her dark eyes not dark enough for me anymore.
“No.”
Her lips land on my cheek and her body stills.
Pauses, recalibrates until the stiffness in my body and the sharp turn of my head clues her in.
“No?”
“I can’t... this thing between us. It’s always been a distraction.” Breathing out, I slowly turn my head to find her studying me, “And I’m afraid that distraction has come to an end.”
No tears fill her eyes just as no tears fill mine.
“I see.”
The weight of her stare sits on me, pushing hard on my chest until something close to a heartbeat pushes through.
“It’s time for us to move on. To embrace the future we’ve been putting off.”
“Things have changed since I’ve been gone.” She tilts her head, listening to the heart we both thought was lost forever, “Calista Drache falling for a man, of all people.”
“He’s not just a man.” Defensiveness sharpens my tone, “He’s loyal and protective. The kind of person who would fly across the world to secure a brighter future for his family.”
“Oh, you don’t need to convince me.” Amusement tilts the corners of her lips, “He must be something special for you to even think about leaving this palace with one less lover in your back pocket.”
“He’s...” everything, “someone who knows what’s worth fighting for.”
“And when he leaves?” Bitterness sours the words, her dark eyes narrowing at the taste, “When he hops on that plane, what happens then?”
Reality is a bitch and no one delivers the punishing blow like Tahira Malik.
Ignoring the strips of flesh already screaming for mercy, I meet her gaze with a nonchalant expression. A casual shrug that offers no insight into the bone deep sorrow my future holds.
“Then I’ll do what I always do.”
Tahira nods, her eyes trailing down my body before she pushes herself off the bed.
“In that case, we may as well go bold tomorrow.” Strutting past the crumpled fabric on the ground, she grabs a hanger and holds it out for my inspection, “Go big before he goes home. What do you think?”
I tilt my head, studying the glittering scrap of fabric. Bold in colour and spirit, it looks a lot like the spark Christopher Deville put back inside me.
“I think we’re going to need it tailored.” A wide grin breaks across my face, “Unless you’ve got some spare tits hiding somewhere in this room.”
Tahira snorts, her attention already back on the party at hand.
“You need a lot more than tits to fill those straps out.”
It’s the friendship we’ve always had, the easy comradery that originally brought us together. Simple and uncomplicated, it’s the kind of connection that doesn’t dive much deeper than the surface. Sex that’s just sex and no one thinks twice about what it means.
I watch Tahira lay out our dresses for the gala tomorrow, the vibrant fabric handsewn to beautify and conceal even the darkest soul.
Minutes slip by and I try not to think about the grains of sand slipping through my fingers. The stolen moments that are dwindling as the countdown to the heist lies in unison with Christopher’s departure.
But just like I told Tahira, I’ll do what I always do.
Pick up the pieces and put myself back together again.