4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
“What are you doing out here alone in the dark?”
I start to tell him about the man but think better of it.
“Needed some fresh air. Was getting stuffy in the tent.”
“Time to cut the cake.” He loops his arm through mine, giving me no choice but to walk alongside him. “I see you’ve met my wife.” He chuckles.
My facial expression must give me away.
“Bad joke,” he tells me.
“How long were the two of you married?” I question.
“Two years.”
“Did you love her?”
“So many questions.”
“Just trying to get to know you. I don’t know anything about you. Not really.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”
“I’d rather hear the truth from you.”
“Another time. Tonight is meant to be an auspicious occasion, Odette.”
I gave him a way out this time, but I can’t help but wonder if the rumors hold any truth.
There is one thing I have his wife didn’t. I don’t come with a fortune. A man as handsome as Nico shouldn’t have trouble finding a willing bride, but with his reputation I guess my father was the only one willing to risk it for the sake of saving his own skin.
My father made some poor investments that left us on the verge of losing everything.
Nico is paying off his debts, granted I do my part in this and give birth to a male heir within the first two years of our marriage.
Is that what happened to Catherine? Did she fail to get pregnant? Was the inheritance only a story made up to cover up what really happened?
Nico stops abruptly. “I hope you’ll be happy here.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” He draws my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to my ring. “Shall we?”
I nod even though everything inside me is screaming that I’m not safe here. Not welcome.
Nico pulls me to the middle of the designated dance floor.
Lights twinkle overhead as soft music filters throughout the tent from the band set up to the left of us.
Nico hugs me close to him. I lay my head on his chest as he spins me around, parading me in front of the guests until some other couples join us.
My father doesn’t ask me to dance with him.
He’s already written me off. He probably can’t wait to cash his check from Nico.
The rest of the night is a blur of well wishes, food, and drinks.
By the time Nico swoops me up into his arms to carry me over the threshold, I’m dead on my feet and can barely hold my eyes open. I drift in and out of consciousness as he carries me up two flights of stairs. Or maybe it was three.
“Get some sleep, Odette.” His lips brush my forehead as my head hits the pillow.
Whispers. A soft web of them drifting like smoke through the cracks in the door sound in my ears. They are an echo that blurs the line between waking and dreaming, that pulls me from a deep sleep. From dreaming of my husband. I feel around, touching nothing but the cold sheets.
I open my eyes to peculiar shadows. To the faint outline of furniture in a room that isn’t mine. I close my eyes again, hoping the whispers stop. Hoping for dreams that make sense. The floor creaks, and I sit up looking for Nico, but there’s no one there.
Shouldn’t he be here in bed with me? Shouldn’t we be consummating our marriage?
Come morning, I know my father will expect to see our bedsheets. It’s a disgusting and barbaric custom, but one that is part of our culture.
I glance around the room, trying to make out the shadows. Trying to convince myself that there isn’t someone standing in the corner watching me sleep, but I can sense their presence. Even if I can’t see them.
The ceiling stretches above me, a dark canvas that holds the secrets of this room. The scent of smoke wafts around me and something that smells like rotting flowers.
I turn onto my side, drawing the covers up as if they can protect me from my own thoughts.
The whispers drift in and out of the room. Maybe it’s the staff or Nico’s men, talking and doing their rounds as their steps sound down the hall. Or maybe it’s something else. Ghosts, my sister would tease if she were here. I can almost hear her laughing at my cowardice.
She’d be the first out of bed and going to investigate every nook and cranny. She’d treat it as an adventure.
My feet hit the floor before I can give a second thought to what I’m doing.
I pad slowly across the dark room, bumping my toe on the corner of a dresser.
I muffle my cry with my palm to my mouth when I realize I’m no longer wearing my wedding dress.
I’m in a white silk nightie that isn’t mine.
Did Nico strip me out of my gown and redress me?
I crack the door open and glance both ways down the hall, finding it empty and scarcely lit.
I have no idea where I am or where anyone is.
I wonder where my parents and Gissette are sleeping.
I choose a direction and wander aimlessly.
I pause briefly outside of each door I come across, listening for my husband or the whispers I heard earlier, but now there’s only the silence.
This house is too big to be so quiet. All houses have weird creaks and groans. Or at least I thought they did.
Where are Nico’s men? I figured I would have bumped into at least one of them by now.
I find myself walking the halls feeling as though I’m in a labyrinth that will never end.
I hear a door creak open and turn to see an elderly woman exiting one of the rooms. She’s dressed in maid attire. Black dress slacks and a matching shirt with a white collar.
Her gaze falls on me. She looks me up and down, giving me a judgmental glare.
“Do you know where my husband is?”
She shakes her head, but something tells me she’s lying. “You should be in bed,” she chastises me like I’m a naughty child who has snuck out of bed.
“I couldn’t sleep. I could hear someone talking outside my room.”
The woman doesn’t respond. She simply walks on, looking back over her shoulder every so often, making sure I’m following. She gives me the creeps, but I don’t even recall where my room is, so I don’t have much of a choice.
“Do you know which room my parents or my little sister are in?”
She meets my question with an icy stare that sends a shiver through me. Maybe she was fond of Catherine. Or maybe she’s just a mean old hag. Her floral perfume hangs in the air between us. It’s a musty, powdery smell that turns my stomach.
“Your room.” She points a bony finger to the right. I could have sworn I exited on the left side of the hall, but maybe I got turned around in one of the halls. “Mr. Moretti will expect you up and dressed before breakfast,” she says.
I slip into the room and crawl back under the covers. I close my eyes and try to sleep, but it never comes. I spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling wondering if Nico will ever join me.
He never comes.
The light gray of the morning sky filters into the room.
A knock strikes the door once and Nico, my husband, enters the room. “You’re dressed. Good.”
“You didn’t sleep here. With me,” I clarify.
“No.” he offers no further explanation. “We’ll have breakfast with your parents, and then you’ll have the day to explore and get accustomed to the house.”
“And you? Are you going to give me the tour?”
“Ms. Bentley will show you around. I have work.”
“No rest for the wicked,” I murmur, surprised by my disappointment.
If he heard me, he doesn’t comment.
I follow him downstairs, making note of exactly where my room is and how to find my way back. As we go down the staircase, I observe the portraits hanging along the walls. Their eyes seem to track my every move. “Your relatives?”
“Yes,” he answers but makes no further attempt at telling me anything about them. “Your portrait will be added next to mine soon,” he tacks on, and I notice the outline of a missing frame next to his.
Catherine’s portrait must have been removed before my arrival.
My parents and sister are seated at the dining table already digging into the buffet set up at the center of the table. Nico pulls out the chair at the opposite end of the table for me, then goes to the head of the table and takes his own seat.
I’m isolated at the foot while he banters with my father.
Mother glances at me. “Someone had a busy night.” She smirks and shovels eggs in her mouth while Gissette giggles at what she’s implying.
If only.
Ms. Bentley shows up and slides a plate of egg whites and whole-grain toast in front of me, followed by a side dish of mixed fruit and yogurt.
“Can I get some coffee?”
The old bat shoots me a stern look and pours me a glass of orange juice instead.
I thank her quietly, making a mental reminder that I need to find the kitchen. I can get my own damn coffee.
“You’re lucky to have someone as experienced as Ms. Bentley to run the house for you,” Mother says.
That’s me. Lucky.
I want to ask if they’ve heard from Lynette, but don’t want to bring it up in front of Nico. I don’t know how to read him. He’s so hot and cold. I can’t tell if he likes me or despises my presence.
Last night I thought maybe…maybe he was into me. I must have misjudged his behavior and his reaction.
My father’s cell phone rings, and his face turns red at whatever news he’s received. I’m assuming it’s about my sister and Frankie because steam is going to blow from his ears at any moment.
“Darling,” he addresses my mother, “it appears Lynette and Frankie have returned.”
“Father,” I say, reminding him of our deal.
“Yes, yes. Odette. I gave you my word.”
Mother looks at me oddly but doesn’t speak to me. Instead, she turns her attention back to Father. “My precious, Lynn.”
“They’ve married, and she’s pregnant,” he announces.
“Ooh,” Mother squeals in delight. To her, Lynn can do no wrong. “Well then. We must be going. There’s much to be done. They’ll need a place to live, and there’s the baby to think about,” she prattles on, forgetting all about me.
“We’ll talk soon,” Father tells Nico. “Come along, Gissette.”
And just like that, my family is gone, and I’m alone with Nico.