by SR Jones
It seems as if Violet is going to be a bigger part of our lives than I could ever have guessed.
I think Andrius has fallen for her. Whether he knows it or not.
The question now is, how do all these crazy chess pieces fall?
Chapter 9
Justina
NOW
I stand well back and keep quiet, not wanting to make a sound and ruin the moment. In front of me a man in a long jacket, along with breeches and knee-high boots is kissing a woman wearing an empire line dress, her hair piled on her head in curls. I’m rapt.
“And … cut,” the director says.
I want to applaud, but of course I don’t. This isn’t the theatre for God’s sake.
A British production company is making a period drama, and they’re using Andrius’ house to do it.
God, so much has happened in the space of a few months, it still makes my head spin.
One slip of a girl turned our whole world upside down.
We’d been good, Andrius and I. Settled into our routine whereby neither of us felt too deeply for others. We lived a shallow existence in many ways. He had his fuck buddies, and I’d finally overcome my aversion to sex and how. I’d had a string of girlfriends and was actually with someone I thought might one day become something more than a passing interest, if only she could get over her aversion to Andrius.
Then bam!
Everything changed in one night.
Allyov arrived at our home with a terrified, petite blonde in tow. I watched, partly in fascination, partly in delight, and partly in fear, as the cold Andrius I’d always known lost his shit over the little mouse.
From the first night she was in our home, she changed it all.
My old fears resurfaced, just from having her there. She was traumatized, terrified. I tried to comfort her as best I could without letting myself fall down that hole into the blackness of my past.
I feel guilty now when I think about it. Violet must have been so damned traumatized and what did I do? I took her shopping and tried to cheer her up with dips in the pool! It’s not that I’m hard faced, as I know she must think deep down, but because underneath my hard shell I’m so soft that if I let my shell crack, I’m afraid my insides will simply flow out. There’ll be nothing of me left but that cracked, empty shell.
Then came the most awful day of my life. Worse than anything to happen to me in the damned brothel. The day I came home to find Andrius and Violet in the cellar, and discovered she was Petro fucking Babiek’s daughter. I’d lost it.
It still knocks me sick when I think of it. I can think of the worst things done to me in the brothel, and somehow deal with it, but when I remember telling him to murder Violet a sickly coat of shame washes over me, clinging to me.
I tell myself over and over again to let it go. I raced back as soon as I got my head on straight and was determined to save her no matter what. Not that I ought to have worried because Andrius couldn’t have killed her if she’d been the reincarnation of Petro himself.
Andrius had fallen head over heels in love, whether he knew it or not. He went and damn well got himself shot for her. And still, despite nearly losing the only person I loved, I couldn’t hate her. Although, she clearly didn’t like me as much anymore. It seeped from her every pore. A wariness, and a certain coolness.
I tried to go back to square one with her, the buddy-buddy routine, the let’s go shopping stuff, and she went along with it, but I know she never forgot or forgave what I did.
I shudder at the memory of kicking her small form as she lay curled on the floor, and I’m shocked to have to blink back tears.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Angela comes to stand next to me. Andrius’ ex-therapist, and my very current girlfriend.
I’m surprised to see her, but a glance at my watch shows me it’s past mid-day, and she had arranged to finish work at lunch today.
“Nothing,” I tell her. “Only bad memories.”
She smiles softly at me, and it tugs at a heart I didn’t think I had anymore.
The first time I saw her, here in this house treating Andrius after his gunshot wound, I’d been intrigued by her. She’s beautiful, but that’s not what grabbed my interest; instead, it was her calmness. Not the icy, cold calm of Andrius, but a soothing, warm calm. She reminded me of candles, yoga mats, and nice things. She smelled of lavender oil, which she uses on her patients, and her smile blew me away.
It was the weirdest thing, but whereas before the only thing to calm me would be to go to the shops and spend money, I found myself increasingly drawn to hanging around Angela. I watched her treat Andrius, asked for some help with my own neck pain, which she spent a few sessions working on with me, and she became a kind of human valium for me.
In the end, I screwed up my courage and asked her out. I’d done a little digging and figured out she liked women, so I went ahead and asked her out for a drink.
I smile at her pretty face as I recall how damn nervous I’d been.
Now, we’re an item, and tomorrow we head out to see Andrius and Violet in Corfu. I’m taking a few things for Violet with me.
She and Andrius have found a house they want to buy, and I was happily surprised when I saw it.
It’s nothing like the flashy villa they’re renting now, but a big old house on the edge of a village, overlooking the ocean on the northern side of the island.
It’s exactly to my tastes, which is good, because they’ve made it clear its big enough for me and Angela too, and I plan to spend much of the summer months there.
“Are you ready?” Angela asks me as the crew start packing up for lunch around us.
“Yes. I just need to wrap Violet’s Russian Dolls as she wants those, and I want to bubble wrap them so they’re safe.” I smile at her and give her a quick but wet kiss on her delectable mouth. “How about you?”
She shakes her head. “You know me.”
I laugh because I do. For someone so calm and serene in most things, Angela is a nightmare when we go anywhere. For some reason that I can’t fathom, she never packs until the last minute. Then it’s all panic stations as she flings things out of drawers, searching for the Holy Grail of clothing she swears she can’t be without.
We don’t officially live together, but she has half her stuff here now, and spends four or five nights here. I’m going to ask her to move in with me while on holiday. I had a long chat with Violet last night and at the end asked to speak with Andrius. I wanted to be sure he wouldn’t mind me moving Angela in here with me.
To be honest, the business with the house is getting out of hand, and I need help. When it’s not being used as a film set, I rent rooms in it as an upscale, boutique hotel. I trust Angela to go in on this with me. Andrius has said that when any building upkeep costs are paid each month, anything else I make on this venture, I can keep, which is insanely generous of him. As he says, it preserves the house for his future child, and so in a way I’m doing him a favor.
I don’t think he’s earning at the moment, but then again, he’s stupidly wealthy anyway, and Violet’s art business has taken off. They’re not about to starve anytime soon.
I’m about to become a business woman in my own right. I’ve a photographer coming when we return from Greece to take pictures of the house, and I’m going to start hosting weddings here. I can’t think of anywhere more beautiful to get married. They’ll be small and intimate affairs, not the sort of place to hire if you want a sit-down meal for three hundred, but the place to come if you want a small but memorable wedding with closest family and friends.
Maybe one day, Angela and I will have a wedding here? We’re on the same page about so many things. I worried she’d one day want kids, but she doesn’t. Her two siblings, one sister and one brother, have three kids each, so she’s auntie to six kids and sees them a lot. She’s also hugely into traveling and doesn’t want to be stuck at home with kids. She’s got me into it too.
Next year, we’re planning on trekking t
hrough South America, and I can’t wait.
For now, though, we’re about to head out to Greece and see the man I consider my family, despite everything we’ve been through.
The next day, after a few hours in the air, we’re in Corfu airport, pushing our trolley through customs, to the arrivals area.
I spot him straight away. The dark head towering over other people, his broad shoulders. My stomach does a happy little flip-flop at the sight of the man I consider my brother.
Forgetting decorum, I give a squeal and run to him, flinging my arms around him.
He catches me with a laugh into my hair, and kisses the top of my head.
When I pull back, I see Violet beside him. She’s smiling, and it’s friendly, but I want more. I want her to see me as family too, with time. I know I’ll have to work for it. She forgave Andrius for everything, but not me. That’s okay, though. I get it. She’s head over heels in love with the big bastard, so she hasn’t any choice but to forgive him really.
She’s starting to show now, and it suits her. She’s got a tiny belly, but a more rounded face, and she looks happy.
So does Andrius, and it’s not something I’m used to seeing him wear.
We all head to their flashy villa, but if they get their offer on the old house accepted, they’ll be in before the baby is born. It needs work doing, but they can get it done in time, Andrius says.
When we get to the villa, Violet makes us all a cup of tea, while Andrius gets a fire going.
It’s so good to see him, and to see him this relaxed. His skin is darker, a deep tan, and it makes his eyes astonishing. He still has the same big physique, but his dark hair is a mid-brown now, lightened by the months in the sun, and he’s got a bit of scruff on his jaw. Instead of his sharp three-piece suits, he’s wearing jeans and a comfy looking sweater. Violet’s so blonde it’s cute. Her hair, eyebrows, and lashes have all turned ash in the Greek sun and she has a light tan.
They both look good, and my heart fills with love … for them both. Violet and I might have our issues, but she’s the woman to do this for Andrius, to soften him and make him content, and she’s giving him the ultimate gift. A child.
I take our bags to the room we’ll be sharing and from them I take Violet’s Russian dolls. I also have a present for her. It’s a vintage Russian doll, and it is worth thousands. I found it after a lot of searching online, and what I love about it is that it depicts scenes from a winter sleigh ride. I think she’ll think it’s beautiful.
I also have a present for Andrius. The drawing Violet did of him so long ago now. They left it when they went to Greece, and I found it one day when I was clearing out his room at his request. I’ve had it framed, and it’s gorgeous. It might seem weird to him, being given a picture of himself, but it’s how Violet sees him, and that’s what makes it so special.
This holiday, I hope I can begin to have a more truthful relationship with Violet. Now that I have my very own calming drug in the form of Angela, I don’t need the nonstop shopping and cocktail drinking anymore. I’m going to try to find time to talk with her alone, and apologize for how I reacted to her identity by explaining just how terrified I was in that moment.
Maybe it won’t work, and she’ll always be a little cool toward me. Even so, it won’t be the worst thing ever; she’ll never stop me from seeing Andrius, or their child, because she knows he and I love one another. I’d like to try, though, to make our friendship more solid because I like Violet for herself.
She’s a stronger person than she gives herself credit for, and there is much about her I admire.
I get my chance sooner than I think. Andrius asks if anyone fancies a walk, he needs to take Levi out for a run, and I decline as I’m bushed and got my period half an hour ago, but Angela says yes. That leaves me alone in the house with Violet. I go hunting her down and find she’s curled on a sun lounge by the pool, an outdoor heater to her side, and a blanket wrapped around her. It’s not cold like it is in the UK, but it’s not hot like in the summer, and the afternoon light is fading as evening encroaches.
I go sit by her and look out over the beautiful view for a few minutes. Then I turn to her.
“You look amazing, both of you. You’re so good for him.”
She smiles at me, and it reaches her eyes, soft and lovely. “Thank you.”
“Violet,” I begin, and I hear the wobble in my voice. “I am so sorry for what I did. How I reacted when we found out who you were. I can’t ever expect you to forget and simply let it go, but I’d like to hope that one day you could forgive me?”
She sighs. “I have forgiven you.”
“No,” I tell her. “You haven’t. You’re different with me. Ever since then things haven’t been the same between us, and I understand, I do. But maybe one day, I can tell you some of the details of just how bad my life was before … in that place. And you’ll understand why I reacted the way I did. I panicked, Violet. I totally panicked, and then when I left the house and thought about Andrius actually killing you, I panicked even more. I drove back and demanded he didn’t do it, but he’d already sent you away, and told me he never would have done it. I want us to be friends. Not only because we share Andrius, and always will, but because I do genuinely like you.”
She sighs again, and I brace myself for what she is going to say.
“The thing is, Justina, I didn’t know if I genuinely liked you. The whole kicking me in my stomach thing not withstanding, at times, I didn’t like you.”
Wow, talk about harsh. I don’t know what to say, so I keep quiet and let her go on.
“So, you see, my coolness wasn’t only about that moment. You were … so damn mercurial, almost false. I didn’t know the real you. But since we’ve chatted over the last couple of months and we’ve visited with one another, I realize that the real you is the you I see now. The one you are with Angela. The other stuff was a way of dealing with all the trauma, and I get that. And hell, if shopping and a few too many glasses of champagne are the worst way you dealt with what happened to you, then who am I to judge. But you also kept everyone but Andrius at arm’s length. Now, though, now I know the real you. And I do forgive you, and I like you. I’m just … I’m getting to know you, for real now, is all.” She turns to me, smiles, and then reaches over and wraps me in a hug.
“You didn’t like me?” I say, voice small.
“You were … unpredictable, and you kind of had this whole chatty, gossipy, vibe going on with a hard edge to it, and I knew it was a cover. I didn’t get a chance to know the real you, and I suppose, what happened down in that basement made me wary, but it also highlighted that I didn’t know you. You were more of an enigma, believe it or not, than Andrius.” She lowers her voice then with a giggle and says, “He’s male, I mean, how complicated can he be? But you? You were a mystery, Justina. A whirl of shopping and wine bar frequenting energy, but with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. Now, you’re calmer, and you seem actually happy, and I’m glad for you. I truly have forgiven you. Just don’t … don’t let this one go, okay?”
I nod and blink away my tears because I might not need endless shopping trips and handbags to keep me sane these days, but I still find emotions hard to process.
“I got you something,” I tell her and get up to run upstairs and fetch her precious dolls. When I give them to her, she smiles.
“Oh, thank you so much for bringing them for me.”
“I erm, I also got you this.” I hand her the tissue and bubble wrapped doll, and she gives me a quizzical look but tears the wrapping off and gasps as the largest doll is unveiled.
“Oh, she’s beautiful.”
“It’s a ten piece, antique, signed set,” I reel off the info about the doll, excited to have found her something I’m sure she’ll love.
“I adore it, Justina.” She turns to me with shining eyes. “It really is beautiful.” Carefully she twists the first doll to reveal the next in the nest, and repeats the action until all ten are lined up on t
he floor by her feet. “So gorgeous. Funnily enough, I got you a present.” She smiles at me.
“You did?”
“Yes. I did. Come.” She leads me into the house after carefully putting the doll back together, and bringing all three with her, cradling them in her arms as if they are her baby.
She places the dolls on the mantelpiece in the formal living room, and then goes down the corridor to the study. Inside she opens the desk drawer and pulls out a large parcel wrapped in brown paper. “Be careful when you open it, there’s glass.”
I tear the paper off and give a gasp. It’s a stunning charcoal drawing of Angela and myself. We’re talking, both our heads bent as we smile at something we’re looking at. For a moment, it’s hard to speak. The drawing is truly beautiful.
“I don’t know what to say. How did you … is this from memory?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “No, I snapped a picture of you with my phone when you were both too caught up in discussing your South America trip to notice. You’re looking at a map there.”
The frame suits the charcoal, as it’s modern, thick, and stylish. I absolutely frickin’ adore it!
“Thank you, Violet.” I hug her, and she squeezes me back.
Later, when Angela and Andrius return, we all play cards and drink wine, except for Violet, who drinks juice.
When we go to bed that night, Angela pulls me into her arms and kisses me soft and gentle. I kiss her back, giving her some tongue and moaning into her mouth when she reciprocates. “You in the mood for a little fun?” she asks me with a grin, but I frown.
“Sorry, I’ve got the worst cramps. Maybe in a day or so.”
She shrugs, easy. We have amazing sex, but we also have amazing closeness when we don’t have sex, and I’ve not had that before. Being with Angela has made me realize how much my other relationships were based on screwing and not much else.
“I love you,” I tell her as I nuzzle into her neck, kissing her warm, coconut scented skin.
Unlike me, and my expensive creams and fragrances, Angela lives in the body shop coconut range, and I have to admit it smells divine on her. Although a lot of the time, she also smells of lavender and other soothing oils because she uses them in her work.
