Chapter 26: The Perfect Romance
Vivienne was still laying on André’s chest. The warmth of his skin pressed against hers, sticky from sweat, their breathing still uneven from what had just happened minutes ago. They were naked, completely exposed, wrapped only in the silence that filled the chamber.
His hand slowly traced her spine with an almost religious care, the pads of his fingers dragging lightly as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her. From time to time, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.
Her hands moved in lazy circles across his chest, her fingertips stroking the hard lines of muscle, sliding down to the flat of his stomach. From the outside, it looked tender, gentle, like two people basking in the warmth of love after passion. If anyone walked in, they would swear these were lovers lost in a dream.
But the truth sat like poison between them.
Vivienne’s eyes softened against him, but her thoughts were screaming. God, I hope this man dies the most painful death possible. Cut him up into little pieces, burn him alive, drown him in a pit, I don’t care, just end him. I can’t stand this lovey dovey shit another second. Please stop stroking my spine like I’m some baby lamb. Stop kissing my forehead like I’m pure. You didn’t just make me fuck you like a madwoman only to treat me like some sweet doll afterward. Devilish bastard. Stupid lovesick son of a bitch. I hate you with every bone in my body.
But her mouth betrayed her. She whispered, soft as silk, "I love you so much."
André smiled at her, his fingers still dragging over her back, his lips brushing her hair. "I love you too. You are just too beautiful."
His eyes glowed with warmth, but his head was filled with something darker. So beautiful. I want to tie you up and watch you unravel, piece by piece. I want to see the light in your eyes break. God, I want to snap your spine right now, my hand on your back, just one push. But no. That would be boring. Too fast. You’re more fun stretched out, begging, breaking slowly.
Vivienne let her nails trail over his chest. She traced the angry scratches she had left there. Her touch made him hiss quietly, his body twitching under her hand. She tilted her head against him, looking sweet, but her mind was sharp. What are you, Vivienne? A fucking tiger? Look at you. You’ve clawed him like an animal. You’re so horny you don’t even recognize yourself. And yet... maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe it’s him. He turns you into this. He pulls it out of you. Good. Let him suffer with it. Let him deal with the pain.
Her voice came out soft, fake regret dripping from her tongue. "I’m sorry, my Lord. I didn’t mean to hurt you."
Inside, though, her thoughts were sharp as knives. I should’ve used a real blade instead of nails. I should’ve cut deeper. I should’ve marked you forever.
He looked down at her with that same gentle mask, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You don’t have to worry. I like it like this."
Of course you do, because you’re fucking insane, he thought. You’re as ruined in the head as I am.
Then, in that same honey tone, he added, "Anyways, I loved it when you call me by my name."
The words lingered in the air for only a moment before a sudden knock rattled against the chamber door.
Vivienne jolted like she had been stabbed. Panic flared through her entire body. She was naked. Completely naked. No dress, no shift, no protection at all. Her eyes darted around in pure desperation. In an instant, she snatched the blanket, yanked it over herself, and curled beneath it like a guilty mistress caught in the wrong bed.
André, of course, smirked. He leaned back, stretching himself out like a satisfied king. "Come in," he called, smooth and calm.
The door creaked open, and a servant stepped inside. She froze. Her eyes fell to the tray she had dropped in her shock, the breakfast shattered across the floor. For a long moment she did not even move. She stood stiff as a deer caught in a hunter’s sights.
André’s face was calm, almost too calm.
"Your bath is ready, Your Grace," the servant whispered, her voice trembling.
She quickly bent down, fumbling to gather the broken tray, her hands shaking so badly pieces of food slipped from her grip. She cleaned in frantic silence, her head bowed low, as if she feared to even look up.
Vivienne, trapped under the blanket, felt her face burn with shame. Oh my God. I am hiding like some secret mistress. This is hell. Actual hell. Just kill me now. Strike me down with lightning. I can’t believe I am in this position.
The servant’s breathing was uneven, her heart racing. Vivienne could hear it from under the blanket. The poor girl thought she might be strangled at any second. Once the mess was gathered, the servant bowed so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet before scurrying out of the room like a mouse escaping a cat.
Silence fell again.
André casually pulled the blanket away from Vivienne. "She’s gone."
Vivienne sat up, the blanket clutched to her chest, her face red. "I... I was just worried that if I get caught, I may end up in trouble. I could lose my job."
André chuckled. He leaned in close, whispering against her ear, "And why would you lose your job? No one can fire anyone here without my permission. You are mine, Vivienne. I won’t let anything happen to you."
Inside, though, his thoughts were chains. I won’t let you leave. Not now. Not ever. You are mine. You are caged, and you will stay caged.
Vivienne forced a giggle, leaning into him, but inside her words spat venom. Yours? Yours? Fuck you. I am nobody’s. I can’t wait to see you cry when I finally walk out of this cursed place. Poor little king, brokenhearted.
His hand stroked her face, tender and calm. She almost shivered at the weight of it. From the looks of it, she thought, this man plans to keep me locked here forever. If I don’t leave now, I never will. He is about to take his bath. Perfect chance to run.
She rose quickly, pulling the blanket tight as she searched for her dress.
He watched her silently, his eyes calm, his lips still curved faintly upward.
She stood before the mirror, clutching her dress to her chest. When she finally looked, her breath caught.
Her body was covered in marks. Every inch of her skin screamed of him. Her neck, red with bruises from his mouth. Her collarbone and chest littered with purple blotches. Her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, her thighs—all of it painted with his kisses, his bites, his hunger.
Her skin looked raw, broken, consumed.
"God," she whispered, staring at her reflection. "He really is insane. Is he a cannibal? Was he trying to eat me alive?"
She turned her body to the side, tracing a fresh bruise with her fingertip. "He didn’t just fuck me. He feasted on me like a starving wolf. He was really trying to have me for breakfast."
Her throat tightened. She pressed her hand flat against the mirror. "I need to leave before he does more to me."
Behind her, his voice came low and smooth. "Do you want to share a bath with me?"
Vivienne froze. The world went still.
Her mind shattered like glass. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought it might explode.
Her face turned bright red, her breath caught in her throat. Bath? Did this bastard just ask me to join him in the bath? Naked. Again. After he’s already marked me like I’m some piece of meat. What is wrong with him? Is he insane? Does he want me dead?
She turned her head slowly, her mouth parting. She could barely find words.
Bath with you? You sick, foul, twisted son of a bitch. I should drown you in that bath. Hold your head under until the bubbles stop. But of course my mouth won’t say that. No, it’ll smile. It’ll blush. Fucking hell. This is hell.
Her lips trembled. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her brain was fried, her thoughts a chaotic storm of curses and panic.
André only sat there, calm, composed, waiting for her answer with the same patience of a predator who knew the prey had nowhere else to run.