Chapter 43: The Sneaking Thief
Vivienne swallowed hard as she said softly, "What do you wish for?"
Her voice sounded light and polite, but her chest was on fire. Her throat was dry.
Inside her head, she was panicking. Please let it be normal. Please let it be boring. Maybe he’ll say he wants me to sing for him like some drunk bard. I’ll do it. I’ll sing until my lungs bleed. Or maybe he wants me to write him a poem, calling him more precious than the moon. I’ll do it. I’ll lick his boots if I have to. Just don’t let it be something crazy.
But then she saw it—his smile.
That smile stretched slowly, lazy and soft, but it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t the kind of smile a man gives when he’s about to ask for a kiss or a song. It was the kind of smile someone gives when they’re about to throw you into a pit of snakes.
Why is he smiling? I don’t like this. I seriously don’t fucking like this. I feel like he’s going to wish for something ridiculous. Something vile. Something that will destroy me.
André leaned back a little, his eyes shining in that calm way that never fooled her, and he said, "No rush. You’ll grant it to me later. At night."
Vivienne froze.
At night? What the fuck does that mean? Why at night? Why can’t you just say it now and get it over with? What kind of monster delays his wish until night like he’s planning a funeral?
He glanced at his pocket watch, then looked at her again. His voice softened. "This was really fun, but I have papers to sign. I’m really sorry."
Vivienne forced a smile and answered quickly, "No problem."
Inside, she wanted to grab the cards and stab them into his throat.
André stood and offered her his hand like some gentleman in a play. "Let me walk you up to your room."
The two of them walked slowly together, the hallways wide and quiet, their footsteps echoing faintly on the marble floor. His hand brushed her arm lightly, his touch soft, almost tender. He was smiling at her as if he adored her, but inside his head, he was laughing.
She’s definitely losing her mind, he thought. Look at her. She’s cracking already.
And she was.
Inside Vivienne’s head, alarms were going off. She was screaming, shouting, sobbing, fainting all at once. I don’t like this. I don’t like this. How could you lose, Vivienne? How the fuck could you lose? You’ve played cards all your life. You’ve robbed drunk men blind with these same fingers. And now this pampered idiot beats you? What’s he planning? What’s his wish?
When they reached her door, André bowed his head slightly. "I’ll see you later, Vivienne."
Vivienne’s lips curved. "You too."
The moment she slipped inside and heard his footsteps fade away, her whole body snapped.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
The scream tore out of her chest. She clutched her hair, pacing the floor like a madwoman.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. I can’t.
Her thoughts were a mess, bouncing around like glass shards. What do I do? What do I do? Should I pretend I’m sick? Should I burn the chateau down? Should I stab myself in the leg so he’ll feel sorry for me?
She stopped, gasping for air.
No. I just have to grant his wish, right? That’s all. I just have to do it. Whatever disgusting thing it is. I’ll do it. I’ll survive it. I’ll live. I’ll get through it.
She collapsed on the bed, face buried in the sheets, her fists slamming against the mattress.
God, this is disgusting. Infuriating.
Hours dragged by like knives cutting her skin.
By noon, Vivienne was seated by the window, her face pale, her eyes hollow. Then suddenly she stood, shaking her head.
"I won’t do this anymore. Fuck that stupid horse. Fuck that stupid vault. Fuck this entire chateau. I’m leaving. I’m gone. I have to get out of this fucking place before he sees me."
She moved quickly, pulling on her cloak, shoving her shoes on. She didn’t even look at the mirror. Her chest was pounding so hard it felt like her ribs would crack.
So Vivienne left her room.
She crept through the halls, sneaking out like a thief. Her steps were light, her shoulders hunched, her ears sharp for every sound.
Before he catches me, she thought, I need to leave this fucking place. I don’t know what he plans to wish for, but it’s going to be bad. Really bad. He probably plans to fuck me while his servants watch, the bastard. I have to leave with at least my dignity and ass intact. I’m a thief, not a whore.
Her heart leapt with hope when she reached the side corridor. The door was there. Freedom.
But then—
A shadow fell across the hallway.
André.
He leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, his face calm. His eyes glittered.
Vivienne froze. Her stomach dropped like a stone.
Oh fuck.
He tilted his head, his voice soft as silk. "What is it, Vivienne? Why are you acting like a thief sneaking around? Why are you shaking?"
Her whole body betrayed her. She could feel it. Her hands trembling. Her knees weak. Her breath shallow.
Fuck my stupid body. Why is it trembling? Get a grip, Vivienne. Get a grip.
She forced a smile, her voice high and sweet. "It’s nothing. It’s just... I’m very excited. To grant your wish. I’ve been trembling with joy. So I thought I should get some fresh air. And my shoes... they’re making loud sounds. Because of the clicking. That’s all."
André stared at her, silent. His lips curved slightly.
Inside his head, he thought: What a fucking stupid lie. But look at her squirming. She’s like a little mouse caught in a trap. I love it.
His voice was calm. "Is that so?"
Vivienne nodded quickly. "Yes. I really want to grant your wish. I’m so excited for tonight."
Just buy it, motherfucker, she thought. Just buy it and go sign your donations to orphaned puppies. Leave me the fuck alone.
But André’s eyes softened in that dangerous way again. "If you are that excited," he said slowly, "then we don’t have to wait for tonight."
Vivienne blinked. "Huh?"
He leaned closer, his hand reaching for hers, his touch soft, gentle, like a lover. "You can grant me it now."
Her chest tightened.
This can’t be good. This can’t be good.
He held her hands softly, his smile sweet as sugar. "Let’s go to my room. We’ll have a lot of fun. You’ll see."