Chapter 51: Time To Play
Vivienne’s heart was drumming so hard she thought her ribs might snap. Every beat was like a hammer in her chest.
She forced her legs to move, step by step, until she reached the bed where André was sitting. She sat down beside him, trying to look calm, trying to smile. He turned to her, his eyes soft, his lips curving in that tender way that made her stomach twist in disgust.
He smiled at her softly, and she forced a smile back. But inside her head she was screaming.
"You are a demon. A fucking demon. This doesn’t make any sense. How the hell can you fuck for six hours? Six hours. SIX FUCKING HOURS. What kind of man does that? You are not human, you’re a monster. A lunatic. A demon."
She turned her face slightly to study him. He looked maddeningly perfect. His dark lashes framed those obsessed eyes. His lips curved like some romantic hero out of a ballad. His hands moved carefully, cutting the quail into small, perfect pieces and placing them onto her plate like he was the picture of a gentle, doting husband.
He said softly, "Have them."
Vivienne forced her lips into a sweet smile and said, "Thank you."
But her thoughts were venom.
"So you’re really evil. Feeding me like I’m your little pet before you kill me. Fatting me up like a pig for slaughter. Oh God, he’s planning something. He’s planning to tie me up again after this. That’s what this is. He just wants to feed me first. Bastard."
She picked up her fork, her hand stiff and shaky, and began to eat. Each bite was torture. The roasted quail melted in her mouth, seasoned with thyme, rich and tender, but to her it tasted like poison.
André watched her face closely, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He reached for the wine and turned the glass gently, letting the deep red liquid swirl.
Vivienne grabbed her own glass quickly and took a large gulp. Her hands were trembling so badly the wine nearly spilled.
Inside, she was screaming.
"This is how I die. Murdered with duck and wine. Great. What a legacy. Here lies Vivienne, professional thief, killed by orgasm marathons and fancy French food. Bravo."
After a while, the plates were empty. The silence between them was so heavy she thought she might choke on it.
Vivienne’s head was spinning.
"Alright. Once he leaves to send those plates back, that’s it. Run away, Vivienne. Run away and never look back. You cannot die in this bastard’s bed. You won’t. You’re smarter than this. You can’t let some dick and diamonds be the end of you."
She forced a smile, her lips trembling, and said, "It was delicious."
André looked pleased. He stood up slowly, his movements graceful. He stacked the plates onto the tray. Vivienne’s heart leapt.
"Yes, yes, that’s it. That’s it. Take the tray and leave. Just leave. Please, God. I’ll light a candle in your name if you let this psycho walk out that door."
He lifted the tray in his hands. He turned, heading toward the door.
Vivienne’s heart soared.
"Thank God. Thank you. This is my chance."
But then André stopped.
He turned back.
And instead of leaving, he carried the tray to the table in the room, set it down gently, and turned back toward her.
Vivienne’s stomach dropped into her shoes.
"God no. Please no. Why are you doing this to me? Please. Please, please."
He walked back to her slowly, sat down beside her again, and smiled like nothing in the world was wrong.
His voice was soft, almost fragile.
"You are being quiet. Did I do something wrong?"
Vivienne’s brain exploded.
"Did you do something wrong? Really? Really? You’re trying to kill me with your cock and ropes, and you’re asking if you did something wrong? Yes, André. You did EVERYTHING wrong."
But she said nothing. She just smiled faintly, swallowing her curses.
"Are you sure?" he asked again.
He reached out and held her hands.
Vivienne winced, biting her lip. The pain shot through her wrists.
André’s eyes dropped to her hands. He saw the red, angry marks left behind by his cravat.
His face shifted. His eyes softened. He lifted her hands gently and kissed them, right over the wounds.
"I’m really sorry, Vivienne," he whispered. His voice was low, sad, full of worry. "I just wanted to show you how much I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you."
His tone was so tender, so broken, it almost sounded real.
Vivienne’s thoughts spat venom.
"Oh please. As if tying people up like a lamb at the altar sounds romantic. What next? Whip me while singing poetry? You lunatic."
But he wasn’t done. He cupped her face gently in his hands, tilting her head so she had to look at him. His eyes shone, so full of emotion it made her stomach turn.
"It’s just that I love you so much, Vivienne. I love you, and I just can’t stop. I would do anything for you. Anything. I’m sorry. Maybe we should..." He broke off, stuttering, his lips trembling like he was fighting tears.
Vivienne’s eyes widened.
"Oh God. Does he want to cry? Is this psycho about to cry? Is this my life? Maybe I shouldn’t look irritated. Maybe I actually hurt his stupid feelings. Ugh. This is unbearable. But fine. If this is what it takes, then I’ll play along. I have to get him to trust me completely. That’s the only way he’ll tell me where the vault is. That’s the only way I’ll get that damn horse. I can’t believe I have to do this. Somebody please shoot me."
She forced herself to smile. She reached up and cupped his face softly. Her fingers brushed his jaw.
"I liked it," she whispered.
Inside, she was screaming.
"I want to vomit. I want to vomit so badly. God, what have I become."
André’s eyes widened slightly.
"Really?"
Vivienne smiled sweetly.
"Yes," she said.
Inside, her thoughts hissed.
"God, you are so foolish."
She leaned in closer, pushing past every ounce of disgust rising in her throat, and kissed him softly. Her lips touched his like she meant it, like she was his lover, his devoted woman.
"You are mine," she whispered between kisses. "Of course I love you."
But inside her head, her thoughts laughed darkly.
"Since you’re crazy, I’ll show you crazy. Let’s see how long you last before I slit your throat."
André kissed her back, his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. His heart raced, but his mind stayed cold, sharp.
He knew. He knew she was lying. He knew she was a thief.
But he kissed her anyway, like she was his goddess.
Their mouths pressed together, both of them smiling sweetly on the outside, while inside they were drowning in hatred, lies, and madness.
And still, they were kissing.
Like two lovers in a fairytale.
Like two monsters playing house.