Fables & Other Lies

by Claire Contreras

  Somehow, I knew I was dreaming. Maybe because I wasn’t in the Caliban Manor, but my own little beach house on Amelia Island. I opened my eyes and saw my room, with the all-white walls and windows throughout. My pillow was plush underneath my head and when I inhaled I expected to smell the salt from the ocean just outside the windows, but instead, it was a man’s cologne and cocoa butter I smelled. It pulled me back. River. As if I’d beckoned him with my thoughts, he appeared beside me, and even though I knew this wasn’t real, I gasped. He was shirtless, his muscular arms and etched abs on full display as he propped his head on his hand. He had that sexy grin on his face, the one that made my heart palpitate uncontrollably. He reached out and caressed my bare skin, his fingers moving slowly along the dip of my hip, up to my breast, where he paused, his gaze still on mine.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, even though it was a dumb question.

  “What you want me to do.” His hand cupped my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple. Desire flooded through me, pooling in between my legs. “When was the last time you did this, little witch?”

  “I don’t know.” I bit my lip to keep from moaning when he pinched my nipple, but it was futile; the moan ripped through me loudly as my head fell back.

  His touch left my breast, exploring lower, until he reached my abdomen, and snaked his hand between my legs, two fingers running along my lips. I let out a shaky breath.

  “Have you ever done this before?” His brows pulled in slightly. I shook my head. “How can that be?” His fingers moved in and out, in and out. He wasn’t inside of me, yet I felt him everywhere. My heart felt like it might give out from pounding so hard.

  “I just haven’t.”

  “How can that be?” he asked again.

  “I don’t know.” My voice was shaky, breathless.

  If I thought my admission would make him ease up, I was wrong. He brought his head closer to me. My heart stopped. My lips parted. He didn’t kiss me though, he ducked his head and licked the nipple he’d touched once, twice, three times, closing his mouth around it as his fingers continued to move slowly between my folds. I cried out, threw my head back, and shouted something, I couldn’t be sure what. Something inside of me snapped and when he moved his mouth to my other nipple and continued to move his fingers, I felt myself grow impossibly wet between my legs and cried out his name in a chant.

  River.

  River.

  River.

  I was still panting, eyes closed, when I came to, but when I opened my eyes I wasn’t in my little white cottage, but a dark bedroom. I gasped, sitting up in bed, holding the sheets to my chest. I looked around, but saw nothing. When I looked beside me, I saw River lying there, fast asleep. He wasn’t naked. I could see that much. I held a hand over my heart and willed it to calm down. Nothing had happened. It was a dream. A very, very vivid dream. As I lay back down on my pillow, River stirred.

  “You’re entirely too wound up, little witch,” he mumbled.

  “Stop calling me that,” I said, despite my quickening pulse.

  “We have a long day ahead of us.” He shifted in bed and turned to face me, his face incredibly close to mine. His lips turned up slightly. “You should get some rest.”

  I swallowed, nodding, and turned over to face the other way. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked like he knew what I’d just imagined, dreamt. That was impossible, right? I forced myself to breathe normally. It was impossible.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a loud knock on the door. That was how I woke up a second time. I quickly looked beside me to find River was no longer there. Somehow, that made me breathe a little easier. The dream was still replaying in my mind, not just the dream though, it was everything. My body seemed to be on fire from it. My breasts, between my legs. Everything felt as though it had happened. Had it? The knock on the door came again. I cleared my throat, but before I could invite them in, the door swung open and Gustavo appeared, rolling a large brown designer trunk behind him. He let it fall with a thump and looked up at me. Even in the daylight, he looked menacing, with an oversized frame that made him look like he was wearing shoulder pads underneath his suit.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” He nodded. “Mr. Caliban asked me to bring this to you. I apologize that it took this long, but I trust the clothes are in your size.”

  “How would . . . did you just guess my size?”

  “Size six. Is that suitable?” he asked, but before I could respond, he looked down at the trunk, which had a paper tucked into the side that said 4/6. He looked at me. “There are also size 4 pieces inside.”

  “That should be fine,” I said, my voice coming out slower than I intended. “I won’t be needing all of it.” I studied Gustavo, who seemed to have no reaction to this. “Do you just keep trunks of different sized clothes here just in case a woman stays over?”

  “I assure you, Mr. Caliban does his due diligence when it comes to his guests, as he likes to make sure they are well taken care of. Will you be needing anything else?”

  “No. That should be fine.” I licked my lips. “Where is River?”

  “Mr. Caliban is busy in the study. Once you are ready, you may head downstairs. I’m told you will be taking photographs of the house today.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Oh. Before I forget.” He walked outside again and was carrying two large canvas bags when he stepped back inside. He deposited them beside the trunk. “These are toiletries.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will that be all?”

  “Yes. I think you’ve covered it.” I smiled gratefully.

  He didn’t.

  He left the room and shut the door behind him without another word. I scrambled out of bed and walked over to the trunk, setting my hand over the leather. My mother had a similar trunk. It had been a gift from Papi from one of his many trips to Paris. Growing up, I could never be quite sure why a mattress and plastics manufacturer traveled so much, but as I got older and visited him at the factories, I understood that they relied on outside resources for materials. Most of my life I’d been told I’d inherit those companies, something that after I left I knew would be improbable, and then years later, when my mother called me one day and told me my father had sold the company to another family and handed out severance checks to longtime employees who had decided to quit, I mourned.

  I never wanted the companies, but for some reason it hurt me that he trusted someone else with something that had been handed down to him and not his own daughter. Part of me thought it was because I wasn’t a man. If I’d been a man, I was sure I wouldn’t have been humiliated or kicked out of the house or banished. If I’d been a man, my father would have been proud. But I wasn’t a man. I was just a woman with a problem between her legs.

  The latch of the trunk was tight, as if it had never been opened, but I managed to pry it. What I found inside made me fall on my ass. Literally. Well taken care of was one thing, this was . . . a lot. There was a diamond necklace that looked like something only the Queen of England would have in her armory, set over a silk red fabric that glistened in the little light reflected in the room. I’d never worn a necklace like this. I wasn’t sure I wanted the responsibility of one. I could barely bring myself to set it aside to look through the rest of it, but I managed to pick up the silk and set it on the floor beside me carefully before going back to the trunk. The first thing was a dark red dress. I stood, the red silk of the dress, so similar to the fabric on which the necklace was on, hit my forearms as it fell open. It was exquisite. Again, something unlike anything I’d ever worn before.

  I was a skinny jeans and Converse or sandals kind of girl, combat boots when I felt like I needed an extra kick in my step. I didn’t do jewels or fancy dresses or heels, much to my mother’s dismay. The dress hung low between the breasts and the back was exposed. It was long and had a slight train. Just looking at it made my pulse quicken. Would I wear this to the gala? Was that what River intended? Would
I stay? Would he actually drag me back here tonight as he’d said? I kind of wanted to find out. Maybe it was because I’d never been the person people chased after. Maybe it was because the idea of someone like River—handsome, rich, powerful—going out of his way to look for me was thrilling.

  I recalled the memory of my dream, so vivid, so scandalous, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The mere thought of it made me blush. My grandmother would be so ashamed. According to her, sex was something you waited for a husband to experience with. Even in a dream it was wrong. Even unwilled. She’d probably make me drink one of her concoctions to drive the Devil out of me and make me pray twelve Hail Marys. I set the dress down on the bed and went back to the trunk. The rest was more casual—beige trousers, beige and white button-down shirts, white T-shirts, black loafers, different color cardigans. It was all very classic, very Audrey Hepburn-esque. I would probably never buy myself any of this, but I found that I actually loved it. There were underwear and bras in one section of the trunk, differing sizes, so I knew they hadn’t been spying on me or anything. It was all very delicate yet sexy. Lace and pearls and mesh that once again was unlike anything I owned. The pajamas were also made of silk, pants and button-downs that I’d only seen in magazines.

  I grabbed what I would wear now and set aside the rest inside the trunk, placing each piece the way I’d found it, neatly folded and compartmentalized. When I was finished getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror. The lighting in this bathroom was atrocious, but even still, I felt pretty. I felt . . . classy in my preppy beige outfit. Instead of putting on the cardigan, I tied it around my neck and headed out of the room, feeling like a tennis mom on her way to pick up her children. As I stepped outside of the room and shut the door quietly behind me, I froze. Mayra was standing across from me, looking like she’d been here for hours. Her dark eyes gave me a full sweep.

  “I see you’ve helped yourself to the clothing.”

  “Only upon your boss’s insistence.” I stared right back, despite the fact that my heart was pounding in my ears.

  “You don’t belong here. I hope you know that.” Her gaze narrowed. “But I guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves with your measly presence while you’re here.”

  “Measly.” I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. Now I was annoyed. “Is there a reason you’re here right now?”

  “Sir River would like me to escort you to his office.” She turned around and started walking quickly.

  I followed at a more leisurely pace. I figured if I got lost, I got lost, but I wasn’t about to play this woman’s stupid games. We seemed to walk down many corridors before we reached the winding staircase. It was definitely not the route we’d taken upstairs and I knew she’d meant to make things difficult for me. When we reached large wooden double doors, she stopped walking and set a hand out to open them.

  “Sir, your guest has arrived,” she announced, stepping inside and waiting for me to step in behind her.

  I blinked. When she said a study, I’d expected a room with a desk, not a huge library with a dome ceiling. Like the rest of the house, it looked . . . old. Decaying, with wallpaper that had come off in some sections and gold that was rusted on the chandelier. I couldn’t understand why a family with so much money would let this house fall apart like this.

  “Thank you, Mayra. That’ll be all,” River said, breaking into my thoughts. I blinked and looked at him before my attention turned to Mayra who was staring at me.

  “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes when she looked at me right before turning to leave the room.

  “Interesting study.” I looked at him, finally. He was sitting behind the desk, dressed in a white button-down with the sleeves folded up.

  He had a classic look about him, an old Hollywood star kind of look, with his naturally golden skin, head full of dark hair with that side part, and perfect bone structure. He could play the lead in any film. I thought of the dream again and felt my heart beat a little faster. It had been a dream. A dream that I conjured. I blinked away from my thoughts when I realized he was still staring at me, as if waiting for me to add on to my previous statement.

  “What’s interesting about the study?”

  “All of it. The ceiling, the grandeur.” I looked at the large colorful stained-glass window behind him. It looked like something that belonged in a basilica, not a home. “The window is especially beautiful.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” He turned in his chair and looked at it. “A gift from the Pope.”

  “The Pope?” I blinked. “Which one?”

  “One of the Piuses. I always get them confused.”

  “I’ve never seen this particular image.” I walked forward, around the desk and tilted my head to look at the window up close. “It’s . . . different.”

  The glass had clear and yellows, and blues and grays and showed the typical rendition of Our Lady of Charity holding a baby and ascending into the clouds as a shipwreck took place in turbulent waters beneath her. A gift from the Pope. I shook my head. Wela would be beside herself if she was in the mere presence of something like this, knowing its origin.

  “A gift for what?” I glanced over my shoulder. River’s dark eyes were on mine, as if he’d been watching me the entire time, even though I’d been turned around.

  “A gift for a curse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How much do you know about my family?”

  “Enough to know I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Didn’t you take the most famous photograph ever taken of the house?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you heed those warnings then?”

  I felt myself cower a little. I’d defended having that picture to myself, to my parents, to my family, but I was at a loss for words when it came to someone of the actual Caliban family. I mean, I’d profited a lot from that photograph and technically I had no right to it, and that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to that subject. I focused on taking pictures of the sand. Finally, I thought, fuck it, and met his eyes again.

  “Are you offended?”

  “Why would I be offended?” He crossed his arms. “I mean, besides the fact that you trespassed private property and took a picture of one of the most sought-after homes in the world and then profited off of it and didn’t even think to ask our permission before doing so.”

  “Ouch.” I tore my gaze away from his and looked at the window again. None of what he’d said was wrong, and what was I supposed to say? That I didn’t remember taking the picture at all?

  “It’s in the past.”

  “And yet you bring it up in such detailed form.” I took and let out a breath before meeting his eyes again. “Was that why you chose me? Is that why you want me here? To ridicule me?”

  “Have I ridiculed you?”

  “No.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  “Not really. Not at all.” I felt my frown deepen and decided to let bygones be bygones. “I’d like to take the pictures now.”

  “Before you’ve had breakfast?”

  “I’d like to take advantage of the light.” I looked at the window again, shaking my head. Light had just been seeping through and was no longer.

  “Isn’t that what technology is for? I assume you’ll be able to brighten the images.”

  “Well, yeah, but why would I?” I walked back to the door, taking my camera out and uncapping the lens as I did. I turned to face the room and raised the camera, pointing the lens in his direction. I snapped a picture, then another, getting a full angle of the room. I’d just have to photoshop him out.

  “There you go taking pictures without permission again.” He stood up and walked around the desk to join me. He smelled like his bed, like some manly cologne that I wanted to drown in.

  “Will you leave the furniture?” I snapped a picture, then another.

  “I believe so. I can’t imagine it fitting into any new house.”

&nb
sp; I nodded. River escorted me out of the study and walked me down the hall toward the front door. “Are you sure you don’t want breakfast first?”

  “I’m positive. Thanks.” I glanced over at him. “Did you have breakfast?”

  “It would have been rude to eat without my guest.”

  “Oh.” I lowered the camera and let the strap hang from my neck. “I guess I can take some coffee.”

  He didn’t smile, not with his mouth, but his eyes lit up. He made a right before we were all the way to the door and walked me to the dining room.

  Chapter Twelve

  I stopped at the threshold. The table sat twenty, maybe thirty, people easily, and it was set for a feast. There were only two place settings though, on the right side of the table, across from each other.

  “This is just for us?” I looked up at River, wide-eyed.

  “We don’t have guests often, so the staff likes to make a show of it when we do.”

  “Wow.” I walked over to one of the chairs, touching the top of the intricate wooden design. The upholstery looked dated, with an ivory fabric and pink flowers, but the wood was intact and seemed to have gold on the edges.

  “They were imported from Italy.” River walked to the chair across from me, setting a hand on it as he watched me. I realized he was waiting for me to sit down first, and once I did, he followed suit. There were three silver warming dishes and two bread baskets. If I wasn’t hungry before, I definitely was now.

  “Help yourself,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled and stood with my plate, leaning over to open the first silver dish.

  It was filled to the top with salami. It was an exaggeration of food. I took two pieces, shut it, and moved on to the next one as River traced my steps and served himself. There were poached eggs and fried eggs. I took one fried egg and some mashed plantains, then served myself coffee and dumped creamer and sugar in it.