Chapter 62: Chaos Returns
It was a very beautiful morning. The kind of morning poets would die for. The birds outside were singing sweet little songs. The trees outside danced in the soft wind, their leaves glistening with dew. Even the sunlight crept into the room in a gentle way, painting the bed in soft gold. It was a morning made for love, for peace, for warm kisses and whispered promises.
Vivienne opened her eyes slowly. The first thing she saw was André. He was lying on his side, his head tilted slightly, his long lashes resting against his pale cheeks. His dark hair was a mess but somehow made him look even more perfect. His lips were parted just a little, his breathing so light that she could barely hear it. His whole face looked calm, like he was carved by some cruel god who wanted beauty wasted on madness.
Her first feeling was disgust. Her chest tightened with irritation, and she scoffed under her breath. "Look how handsome he looks," she muttered in her head. "Like the heavens wept to make this unfortunate bastard."
She glared at him, eyes narrowed. How dare someone this insane look this good. How dare he look so soft, so innocent, when he was anything but.
But then her eyes caught something strange. She leaned closer. She could barely hear him breathing. Her heart skipped. For a moment she froze, her thoughts crashing into each other.
"Wait. He isn’t breathing. Is there something wrong?" Her stomach twisted. Her hands gripped the blanket. "Did he fucking die? Did you finally answer my prayers last night?"
A small smile crept across her face at the thought. Relief mixed with glee.
But then her brain smacked her in the face with reason. "Wait. If he dies, Vivienne, you won’t be able to find that vault. Or your fucking golden horse. No, no, no. God, please not now. Please. I hate him, obviously, but not now. Not before I get what I came for."
She panicked. The wrong kind of panic. The selfish, greedy kind. She leaned forward quickly, her face close to his, trying to see if his chest moved. She hovered above him, holding her own breath, straining to hear his.
"God, please no. If you must kill him, kill him after I get my horse. I beg you."
Just as she leaned closer, ready to press her ear to his lips, his eyes opened slowly. Before she could react, he tilted his head up and kissed her lips softly.
Vivienne almost choked. Her eyes went wide.
He pulled back slightly and whispered in a soft voice, "Good morning."
Vivienne’s brain exploded.
She wanted to vomit in his mouth. She wanted to bite his lips off and spit them across the room. She wanted to scream, to slap him with the pillow, to curse the heavens for giving her this nightmare of a man. But her body betrayed her, as always. She smiled. Sweetly. Softly. Sickeningly fake.
"Good morning," she said, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.
Inside, she was crying blood.
"God, please kill him. Kill him now," she prayed silently. "I change my mind. Take him now. Right now. He’s fucking mad. And dear Lord, he didn’t even wash his mouth. He literally has morning breath. Which, for some strange fucking reasons, smells good, but who fucking cares? He is disgusting. He is insane. He is fucking crazy. God please take his life already."
André watched her lips twitch with irritation even as she smiled. The corners of her mouth betrayed her, pulling tighter than they should, trembling with the effort of fakeness. He noticed. Of course he noticed. He thought, amused, "You probably want to fucking scream. You wants to stab me with a dagger. How adorable."
He smirked to himself. "Maybe I should do more to spite you. Let’s see your limits."
And before she could even recover, he leaned forward again and kissed her harder.
Vivienne’s thoughts scrambled like broken glass. "No. No. No. No. No. Why is he doing this? Why is he trying to kill me with affection? I’m going to puke. I’m going to puke right in his perfect mouth."
But her lips moved against his anyway. Her body betrayed her again, softening into the kiss. She hated herself for it.
He pulled back and kissed her hands next. His lips lingered on her left hand, the very one still marked red from the brutal biting of his cravat. He kissed the tender skin gently, almost with worship, his lips brushing the angry red lines.
She flinched. He looked up at her, eyes soft. "I have something for you," he said.
From his pocket, he brought out a small box. He opened it slowly and revealed a diamond bracelet, shining in the morning light. Without waiting for her reaction, he slipped it onto her left wrist. He kissed her hand again, then pressed his lips against the new jewel like he was sealing it with devotion.
"This is for you," he whispered.
Vivienne chuckled, her eyes wide with fake joy. "It’s beautiful," she said. Her voice carried the same tone women used when they lied to their husbands about ugly dresses.
He tucked her messy hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. His eyes glowed with that soft madness that made her want to stab him. "You deserve everything beautiful. Everything," he whispered. "I will make sure of that. Every single day of your life. I’ll make sure of it."
Vivienne’s face hurt from smiling. Inside, her thoughts were a sewer. "Well, it’s fucking beautiful, yes. Looks like I’ll be getting that horse sooner than expected."
André’s eyes stayed locked on her face, but his thoughts were darker, sharper. "This is your leash, Vivienne Moreau. This is your chain. Because now you are mine. You can’t escape. Ever. My little thief. My dog on a leash."
She rubbed the diamonds with her fingers, thinking about how much they could sell for. He kissed her wrist again, thinking about how much farther she could fall.
Looks like everything was back to normal.
The chaos.