Chapter 44: I’m Doomed
Vivienne and André walked together down the corridor, and every step felt like a death march to Vivienne. Her heart kept pounding so loud she swore even the cockroaches hiding in the chateau’s walls could hear the drum inside her chest. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, trying not to think about what was waiting ahead.
André, on the other hand, looked far too calm. His face was soft, almost glowing, like a man walking his bride to some paradise garden. His smile was gentle, sweet, saint-like. But Vivienne knew better. She knew this man wasn’t taking her to paradise. He was taking her to hell, and he was enjoying every single step of it.
Vivienne’s thoughts ran like a mad horse. Please, God, let it be something easy. Maybe he just wants me to scratch his back. Or comb his hair. Or—God help me—just sit on his lap like a doll. Anything but... that.
But she wasn’t stupid. She knew deep down he had only one thing on his mind.
Finally, they reached his room. André opened the door with that slow grace that made her want to smash his perfect face against the doorframe. Both of them stepped inside.
The click of the lock sounded like the closing of her coffin.
André turned the key, slipped it into his pocket, and thought to himself with a little smile, There’s no escape, my little thief.
Vivienne’s brain was already screaming. Every nerve inside her was on fire. He’s going to fuck me again. Definitely. Without question. Oh God, I’m going to die a naked death before sunset.
And of course, she wasn’t wrong.
André stepped toward her, his smile soft, his eyes tender, and kissed her.
Vivienne kissed him back automatically, her lips moving without permission. Her mind, meanwhile, was going insane. Fine. Fine. Let’s just get this shit over with. Like ripping off a bandage. Quick and painful. Endure it like a soldier, Vivienne. You can do this.
His lips slid down to her neck, soft and slow, and he kissed her there like she was made of spun sugar. Then her shoulder. Then lower. His lips moved with maddening tenderness, and she could feel her body betraying her.
No. No. No. Don’t melt. Don’t you dare melt. You’re supposed to hate this man. You do hate him. You hate him with every cell in your body. Stop moaning, you traitor!
Her moans betrayed her anyway.
His fingers worked quickly at her dress, undoing the laces, sliding the fabric down. Vivienne tried to stop it in her mind, but her body didn’t fight him. Before she even realized what had happened, she looked down and—
"Oh for fuck’s sake," she whispered under her breath.
She was naked. Completely. Like a peeled fruit on a silver plate.
How the hell did this happen? Did he use magic? Witchcraft? One second I was dressed, the next I’m standing here like Eve in the goddamn garden. God hates me. That’s the only explanation.
André kissed her again, but this time as he lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing. She clung to his shoulders as he carried her to the bed, her face burning, her mind in chaos.
He laid her down gently and then shrugged off his coat. His body leaned over hers, his shadow falling across her.
Vivienne stared at him, panic rising. Why isn’t he taking off his clothes? What is this? Is this another section of his twisted teasing? Just fuck me and get it over with, for God’s sake! Stop dragging it out, you demon!
But André didn’t rush. His eyes stayed on her like she was his greatest treasure, and then he whispered, "For granting my wish, Vivienne... you’ve made me the happiest man on earth. God I’m so happy."
But he thought: Yes I am my little thief. Watching you get ruined makes me so so happy.
Her brain froze. What the hell is he saying? What wish? What game is he playing now? He’s scaring me. He’s actually scaring me more by sounding happy than by sounding horny.
Out loud she smiled softly like a sweet bride saying, "Really, I do. I make you happy."
He leaned closer, his hands moving slowly, not to undress himself, but to undo his cravat. He slipped the silk free, the soft fabric sliding like water between his fingers.
Vivienne frowned hard. What the fuck is he planning? What the fuck is actually planning to d—
Her thought broke off when he gently caught her wrists. He kissed her skin so softly it almost felt holy, like he was worshipping her. And before she could blink, he looped the cravat around her wrists and tied them to the bedpost.
Her mouth fell open. "What the fuck—"
But his lips silenced her words, kissing that sensitive spot behind her ear, the one that always made her melt against her will. Her body relaxed into his touch, her fight crumbling as her voice slipped into a soft moan.
Her head spun. Her heart raced.
Goddamn it. How does he do this? Why does he know exactly where to touch? I’m supposed to be angry. I’m supposed to scream. Instead, I’m letting him tie me up like a fucking roast chicken. I’m melting. I’m enjoying this like a lunatic. God, I’m doomed. I’m absolutely doomed.
André leaned close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "This will be so much fun."
Vivienne, in the haze of half-pleasure and half-panic, smiled like a fool and actually said, "Really? It will?"
Inside, though, her brain screamed: God, what a psychopath. He’s a madnan. He’s insane. He’s actually completely insane. And worse—I’m insane too. I’m smiling at this. I’m smiling at being tied up at noon. Noon! People are probably outside having soup right now. People are reading or doing things with their lives, and I’m here tied to a bed like an idiot. About to get fucked senseless again. I’m doomed. I’m so fucking doomed. God I hate this bastard. God I hate myself.