Serenity's Key

by Charlotte E Hart

  He stopped by the carriage driver and sent him on his way home. They would taxi home, or perhaps he would have Thomas pick them up within the hour. He had little time before Alexander would arrive, only enough to enjoy this one day of freedom in the sun before more plotting would begin in earnest. And then there would be concerns and worries to contend with once more. Death, the threat of it, games, money to exchange. All of which, for now, he wanted nothing to do with.

  Claire waved goodbye to the horse and looked a little sad as they wandered into the three-storey townhouse perched on the avenue’s rise. Other more ancient buildings surrounded it, but Sabella Bourgoise had enjoyed the Napoleonic era’s construction instead, choosing a tall, imposing house with gardens aplomb to litter the outside. The cacophony of dogs howling and barking rang out through the air as he pressed on the gate buzzer.

  “It is I,” he said in reply to the hissed sound that came through the telecom. The gates opened forthwith, so he guided them through the wrought iron. “Do you like dogs?” he asked Claire, sensing that he may need to pick her up.

  “Yes,” she said. “Especially little ones.” Little ones they were not. He scooped her up and swung her around to his back as they watched the main doors to the building open. Dogs streamed out in all directions, mostly Rottweilers and Dobermans, and some Rhodesian Ridgebacks peppering the colouring with their chestnut hues as the pack raced towards them. Lilah shot in front of him and growled, which caused him to raise a brow at her. Presumably it was for Claire’s sake, although he was not sure.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, chuckling at the very thought of her grappling at least twenty dogs by herself. “Rip their throats out?” The mental image was most stimulating indeed.

  “I do have good teeth,” she replied, holding her hands out at the impending onslaught, which caused yet more laughter to rumble from his chest. He smiled at them as they bounded over, two or three of them immediately going for his crotch. One, Basil he assumed, started licking at his cock, which happened every time he visited, and another, possibly Irideci, tried to get its nose up Lilah’s dress. Deviant things they were.

  “Giu,” he snapped, loudly and sternly. Not one of the damn things took any notice, which should have annoyed him, but increased his smile yet further. He tried whistling instead. Unfortunately, this simply rallied more dogs to their sides. Thankfully, the little girl on his back was laughing and giggling, squealing occasionally when one would jump up against him, but then near crying in hilarity at the chaos they were part of. Lilah was not so amused, so she hit several of them on the nose, Irideci included who still had his nose where it should not be.

  A loud, high-pitched whistle rang through the air, obliterating any other noise, and he looked up to find Sabella walking towards them slowly along the gravel track. Every dog abandoned them and turned back for their owner. Rightly so. He lowered Claire to the ground again and chuckled at the woman as she arrived in front of them and glanced Lilah over.

  “Bella ragazza,” Sabella said. He was not sure who she was talking about, but assumed she meant Lilah.

  “Hello,” Lilah replied, clearly less than pleased by the inspection. He tapped her ass, asking for pleasantness. Sabella was a dear old friend, a particularly venomous one if pushed, and one who he considered family. Her sixty plus years demanded respect.

  The old woman leant on her walking cane, crinkling her eyes up in amusement at Lilah’s body language and then looked down at Claire.

  “Who are you, my dear?”

  “Claire,” she replied quietly, shuffling her legs behind his to hide herself. He pulled her to the front again. Hiding from anything would never be acceptable. She would learn to face the world head on, with gusto.

  “Has he brought you here for ice cream?”

  Claire only nodded her head in reply, leaning back into him and clinging to his thigh.

  “Claire is in need of something delicious to wrap her lips around, Sabella. You were, of course, my first choice.”

  Sabella laughed at him, slapping his arm as gently as she would a fly as she slowly turned around to head back to the house. He took a step towards her and linked his arm into hers, helping to ease the journey back as Claire clasped his hand, along with Lilah’s.

  “I’m sure an old woman is never your first choice,” she replied, walking carefully and eyeing Lilah again. “This one is much more your type, Pascal.”

  “Mmm. But the age increases the knowledge, hmm? Deservedly so.”

  She chuckled again, coughing a little at her outburst and leaning her weight into him.

  “You make an old woman blush,” she said, patting one of the dogs on the head and pointing at the door. It immediately raced into the house, followed by the rest of the pack, and left the four of them wandering slowly along the tree-lined concourse. “Claire, which flavour do you like? I have many here. Chocolate’s my favourite.” Claire’s head popped to hers, letting go of Lilah’s hand and rounding herself to walk backwards in front of them.

  “Are they all your dogs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you have so many?”

  “I rescue dogs people think are untrainable,” she croaked, faltering in her step. He held her tight, supporting her weight further and just halting the need to pick her up. The reprisal of such things would not be pleasurable. “Shall I tell you a secret, Claire?” she continued, swinging her narrowing eyes to him, her top lip cracking slightly under the beginnings of a sneer. It was all that was needed for him to carefully let go of her arm and allow her to walk on her own again. She held her hand out to Claire, which was instantly taken and his own released. Sabella had this way with most things. “Any old dog can be trained, young ones, too. Remember that. You just have to know the reward needed. And be very strict indeed.” Lilah snorted. She had obviously just cottoned on to Sabella’s previous employment.

  Good. She could learn much from the woman.

  Chapter 13

  If it wasn’t so bloody lovely, I’d be laughing at the thought of it. This old woman has clearly been up to all sorts with Pascal. When, I don’t know. Why, well that’s reasonably obvious. But her and him? It’s the most bizarre thing I can imagine, even if her ice cream is the most mouth-watering thing I’ve ever tasted.

  We’ve been here for a few hours, sitting on the terrace at the back. Claire’s running around with the dogs—all God knows how many of them leaping about as she throws sticks and toys for them. She spent ten minutes learning six commands. Sit, stay, fetch, heel, go, and down, all with a slight American twang, regardless of Sabella’s immaculate Italian. The old woman made her stand by her side and repeat the commands over and over again with at least ten of the dogs, and before she knew it, every one of those dogs listened to her intently. Then Sabella gave her a huge double chocolate cone of ice cream and came and back to sit with us. Pascal’s suit jacket and tie have been removed, only when she told him he could make himself comfortable, regardless of the sweltering heat, and I’m sitting here not really knowing what to say, or to whom. It’s quite strange.

  “She is the image of you,” she says to the man I love, not looking at him as she continues watching Claire. “How long have you known?”

  “Not long enough,” he grates out, crossing his legs the other way and sipping at his espresso.

  “Lucinda?”

  “Mmm.”

  “You should have kept her on a shorter leash. I warned you long ago about her.”

  “You warned me of many things,” he replies, watching the way she smiles to herself. “I did not appreciate her conniving quite as efficiently as you, it seems.” Her smile broadens and turns towards me, eyeing me over again and making me feel slightly on edge.

  “This one reeks of Alexander.” What? I frown at her, ready to snap a comeback, then remember that I’m supposed to give her an element of respect. Respect or not, I don’t reek of anything, especially Alexander. I haven’t been near him in days. “Her chin is as his, hm
m?”

  Pascal chuckles. It’s not funny. I’m not going to sit here and be spoken about like some third party who’s not with them.

  “I think you’ll find my chin is very much my own.”

  “Lifted by Alexander’s touch, though.” She smiles warmly and waves a hand, denouncing the conversation, or trying to calm me down. I don’t know which, and couldn’t care less how old she is. If she thinks she can… “You’re very beautiful, Lilah. And I’m too old to argue. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I haven’t fucked him.” That probably shouldn’t have come out as aggressively as it did. Pascal laughs again, low and rumbling. He could have given me some damn warning. She joins in, cackling away like some old witch with information I don’t have. “Alexander, I mean.” She doesn’t answer me, just turns her head back to Pascal and reaches for her tea.

  “Are you finally caught?” His lip twitches at her, but he gives no other response as he turns his head away to gaze at Claire. “I asked you a fucking question,” she suddenly snaps, filling the air with a hostile authority I would never have seen coming.

  I stare at her wrinkled face and slightly greying hair in shock, completely taken aback at her tone. Christ. My eyes swing to see if Claire’s out of earshot. Thankfully, she’s still dancing with the dogs on the far side of the garden. Finally, I look at Pascal, waiting to see what the comeback will be for such a tone. He’s not smiling any more. If anything, he’s dropped his head a little and seems compliant, just as he was with Alexander in his office.

  “You should know better than to avoid my probes, Pascal.” He nods his head slowly, turning it back to her, still gazing downwards.

  “I am.”

  “Mmm.” She looks back at me, scanning my body hopefully for the last time because I swear to God, I might just launch my mouth at her perusal in a minute. Old she might be, in control of the man I love for some reason, too, but this blatant disregard for me is starting to piss me off. “It is a good time for sustenance to find itself.” I don’t know what that means. “Alexander is ready?” Ready for what? I watch Pascal nod again and then lift his head slightly to look at her.

  “He appears to have made decisions without me.”

  “Mmm. I would say he is then.”

  Oh, this is all fucking odd. What decisions has Alexander made, and what the fuck does that have to do with me? Nothing. I’m not under Alexander’s control and never fucking will be. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s nothing to do with me. I stand up, ready to leave the conversation and play with Claire and the dogs instead. Perhaps I’ll understand that better than letting this old and formidable woman wind me up.

  “Sit down,” she orders.

  Fuck off. I swing my eyes down to her, raising a brow at her order while straightening my dress. No one’s telling me what to do, especially not an old hag who thinks she knows what’s going on between Pascal and I. Screw this. I move a step forward into her, striding my cream shoes out in defiance.

  “No. I’ll sit when I’m ready, speak when I’m fucking ready and listen to you if I damn well choose to. You might have some hold over him and your dogs, but I owe you absolutely nothing.” There. Suck it up, bitch.

  A staring match ensues. My eyes try their damnedest to get my point across as she glares up at me. She can glare all she wants. She’s just a grandma to me, someone I will only respect if I’m given the same in reply. How dare she think she has a right to objectify me while she sits here in her mansion, trying to pull rank and tell me what to do? No. This game is finishing before it starts. I play with Pascal, daily, and Alexander, too. Old, haggard Dommes are no match for me unless they’ve proved something. She hasn’t proved a fucking thing, regardless of Pascal’s quiet demeanour.

  Her lips rise upwards slowly, showing me a glimpse of another woman in there. There’s a true harshness about them as she begins to glaze over a bit, her eyes apparently staring at anything but me. Perhaps she’s thinking about something. I don’t know, but it’s weird. It’s actually enough for me to think she’s suddenly unwell, so I reach forward for her before she collapses on the table, catching her arm as she begins to do just that.

  “You should meet with me once a month,” she says shakily, as I push her upright and gently tip her back to the chair.

  What? Why would I want to do that? Pascal rounds the table out of nowhere and stares at me, growling slightly and hoisting her up into his arms as if she weighs nothing at all. I frown at his back as he carries her off into the dark house, her black dress hanging beneath her as her heeled feet swing over his arm. What the fuck was that about?

  Claire’s voice squeals in the background as I continue thinking about the odd look on her face as I stood up to her. It’s like she wasn’t even here anymore, blank. It reminds me of something, or someone, but I can’t quite think what, or who. Perhaps if she wasn’t so old I could have seen it more clearly.

  “Lilah, look.”

  I turn into the sun again and lift my eyes to the glare, dropping my sunglasses and searching for Claire. She’s stood by the far fence under an olive tree by the overflowing pink and blue jardinières, somewhere close to thirty dogs all sitting in a line in front of her, their tongues hanging out and panting. “Look what I did,” she exclaims excitedly, jumping up and down.

  Well done her. Quite the feat. I walk down onto the courtyard and make my way over to her through the rows of flowers, still smiling at the image of thirty odd dogs doing as they’re told by a five-year-old. Around ten more join me as I meander towards her. They stay at my feet, making me feel protected, not like the ungainly rabble that originally greeted us when we first arrived.

  “See, and it’s so easy,” she calls, as I get closer. “Down,” her little voice says softly. All the dogs lie down, every one of them, even the ones who were walking with me. “Where’s Pascal? I want him to see.” I hold my hand out to her, grasping her tiny fingers and turning us back to the house.

  “Sabelle didn’t feel very well. Your prince has taken her to her room for a rest.”

  “Oh, is she okay? I like Sabelle.” Funny that. I think I do, too, regardless of what just happened. I look up to the windows on the second floor and see curtains being drawn in one of the rooms. Maybe she just needs a breather.

  “She’ll be fine, I’m sure. Just needs a little lie down for a while. It’s hot here. Perhaps she just got a bit warm. She’ll be better now that she’s in the cool.” She skips alongside me, smiling again and rubbing at her shoulder.

  “Itchy,” she says. I look at it and see the sunburn creeping onto her skin as I lift the strap of her dress.

  “I think we need to get you inside, too, young lady. Maybe Sabelle has some sun-cream hidden somewhere.” She looks behind us, spinning around to throw her hands in the air.

  “Come,” she calls at the top of her voice. And they do, all of them, hurtling after us. I find myself giggling at her exuberance, wondering if she’ll always be so happy as I dodge the incoming horde of animals. I hope so. I hope nothing stops her in life. I hope she shines as brilliantly as she does now, showing the world what she’s made of. Her curls bob around her shoulders as her little feet zoom about, vigorous every stride full of beans, and her smile full of innocence and dreams. Beautiful. They’re dreams he’ll give her now. I know that. I’ve witnessed it all day, seen him swing her around and show her his heart. And I felt it, deep down in that moment when he asked me to stay with him as we gazed back at his version of fairytales and castles. He’ll give her everything now, help her to the stars and back if she asks. No child of Pascal’s will ever hide in the dark. They will glow.

  Just as he does.

  ~

  The early evening sun hangs low in the sky as we eventually drive down to the villa.

  “Does it have a name?” I ask, gently stroking Claire’s head as she snores softly in my lap and flicking my head to the vast building we’re creeping up on.

  “Mmm. Roccaforte,” he replies, watching me
intently. Stronghold? Interesting name for such a place. “Strongh–”

  “Stronghold,” I cut in. “I understand Italian well enough.”

  “Ti amero per sempre.” Sweet.

  I smile and gaze out of the window, still rubbing at Claire’s head and thinking about being loved forever as we round the final bend into the courtyard. There’s another sports car parked up outside that wasn’t here earlier, causing my happy face to flatten and I instantly tighten my grip on Claire. It could be Jon, or any other fucker deciding to have a go at those I love. Pascal gently takes her from my arms, smiling at me and shaking his head.

  “These mothering instincts are haunting you, yes?”

  “Car.” It’s all the response I have. He doesn’t look at it. He just keeps lifting Claire’s frame until I eventually let her go and she snuggles her head into his chest.

  “I’ll take her to her bed. Go mingle with our guests.”

  Guests? Who the hell is here? I’m in no mood for more people I might have to prove myself to. If I’m honest, all I want to do is kick off these heels and down a large glass of wine, followed by some vodka tonic. Then I want a bath to soothe my—still aching from torture—crotch area. He gets out and talks to Thomas, who has driven us home, something about something I can’t hear, and then walks off to the door. I get out, too, scrunching my feet up in my shoes, hoping to alleviate the pain and not giving in to the fact that I won’t make it. I will fucking make it. I will learn to wear heels all day again. I will live in them until I no longer feel less without them.

  The first sight to greet me as I walk in is Elizabeth. I halt in my tracks as she stares at me with her red hair flowing effortlessly and perfect legs on display.

  “I’m not sure I like you so much anymore,” she says. Nice. Just what I need after a long day in the sun with an aching crotch and damn painful feet.

  “Shame.” Arguing with another woman today is not something I’m prepared to do. I need a drink and to sit down. I was hoping for some snuggling with the man I love, perhaps finding out that last bit of information. Now, it seems, I’m going to have to explain myself to her, which I’m not particularly excited about.