by V. F. Mason
I don’t even have to think for long to know who ordered it for me.
“You are not wearing this shit.” She throws the dress on the chair and points at the silver one. “You have to look good tonight so they can all bite their tongues.”
By “they” she means Clare and her two daughters, Addison and Ava, who never hid their resentment toward me.
“Lenora, I don’t care what they think.” Not to mention I could never compete with them when it comes to the looks department anyway.
They are both stunning platinum-blondes with perfect bodies and the brightest green eyes you’d ever see on women. Men’s heads must turn wherever they go; surprisingly though, they are still single.
Even if I wear the most beautiful dress in the world, I’ll just be an ordinary stone next to the expensive diamonds who are my siblings.
“I do.” Anger flashes on Lenora’s face when she walks toward me and grabs my shoulders, digging her nails in, and I wince at her tight grip. “Please do it for me? The thought of you standing in that hideous dress among all the high society just pisses me off, okay? I’ll help you get ready.”
“I’m not Cinderella,” I let her know, because it starts to sound like she wants to play fairy godmother.
She winks at me, knowing it means I’m capitulating to her request. “Nope. You are Briseis. So we need to pamper you in case Achilles shows up.”
For the first time, I laugh, wrapping my arms around her again and murmuring into her ear, “Thank you, Lenora.” It means the world to me she is trying to cheer me up in her own way. “I love you.”
She pats my back, hugging me tighter for a moment. “Love you too. And I’ll be working at the party.” I lean back, frowning in confusion. “The salary will pay my grocery bills for the next two weeks, so I couldn’t refuse. But this way I’ll be close to you should you need me, so it’s a win-win.”
“You are the best, you know that?”
“Of course. You’re not bad yourself.” We both laugh, and then she points at the bed. “Sit down. The party is in several hours, and we have tons of work to do.”
Indeed.
If everything goes well tonight, I’ll finally have my freedom, and this family will be nothing but a distant memory.
So I’ll make sure to give them the performance of a lifetime.
Santiago
Classical music echoes through the space, and I close my eyes, almost imagining I’m standing in front of the orchestra after the composer first came up with this magnificent masterpiece.
He created music that became eternal, and isn’t that one of the things we should all strive for?
Leave something behind so generations to come will have something to remember us by?
I wiggle my finger in time with the music as the high notes of the violin go up, up, up before finishing with the loud bass, and it continues again, one instrument changing to another effortlessly.
However, my nirvana is short-lived, as the screeching voice already raspy from constant begging penetrates through the music and shouts, “I don’t know anything!”
With a displeased sigh, I look at him standing in the middle of the arena, chained to the barrel I’ve installed under the floor that, with a flick of a button, shows up whenever I need it.
He twists hard, the metal chains wrapped around his middle clanging loudly while he gulps for breath and tries again, his face scrunching from the effort. Sweat coats his clothes and slides down his forehead to his nose and chapped lips.
Traces of his skin still stick to the tape currently lying by his feet that I tore off him earlier.
I tsk and press my index finger to my lips to shush him. “Mark, it’s rude to interrupt a maestro.” He blinks, gazing around, probably expecting to see someone else, but then again, I don’t expect a fucker like him to appreciate the greatness that is classical music.
Not paying attention to my warning, he shouts again, “I don’t know anything!” He licks his lips before crying out in pain yet still finds the will to continue. “I haven’t been there.”
When one continues to repeatedly annoy the fuck out of you, what can you possibly do?
“Mark, Mark, Mark,” I say, grabbing a serrated knife coated in salt and walk toward him, my boots thumping so loud his shoulders sag as he watches me warily. “Are you sure lying is the way to go? I already don’t have much value for your life.” He opens his mouth to say something, only to scream when I put the knife to his lips, enjoying how the salt obviously makes the sting intensify. His lips become redder, a little blood slipping from them before I take the knife back and trail the tip of it to his artery, right above his pulse point. He goes still, not even breathing, his eyes so full of fear I can almost taste it. “I’m going to ask again, and this time around, I expect an answer.” I trace the knife to his collarbone and then lower to dig the tip into his stomach, voicing my question. “Does Andreas know about his daughter?”
Peter seemed convinced of such a notion. One can’t trust a man who will sell his own soul if it means surviving though.
Now Mark?
A whole different picture.
He worshiped the ground Andreas walked on and stayed by his side like a fucking dog, watching him do all his deeds and helping him out when needed. Such loyalty given to the right people is a magnificent gift one might offer that can be cherished through the years.
Otherwise…
Off to fucking hell you go.
Mark swallows hard, staying silent far too fucking long for my liking, so I stab him hard in the stomach, and his agonized cry reverberates around the space before I pull back and stab him again, this time lower, enjoying how the blood pours from the wound.
Leaving the knife inside, I snap my fingers in front of his nose while he opens and closes his mouth, unable to utter a single word. “You just don’t appreciate the generosity I’m showing you, Mark.”
He focuses his fogged, agony-filled gaze, and I mentally count. He has around five minutes to talk before he bleeds to death, or I’ll get fucking bored and speed up the process, since he’ll be useless to me.
Stepping on his foot, I appreciate how his toes crunch under my heavy boot and tears rapidly slide down his cheek.
He whispers, “Yes.”
Ah, the power of pain.
Even the strongest of loyalties crumble under it.
“Is he coming to collect?”
“Yes. He’s angry.” Oh, I bet. His daughter was treated like shit her entire life. I imagine Andreas doesn’t appreciate it much on top of all the lies surrounding her birth.
Even monsters can have affection for their flesh and blood, no matter how rotten they are.
“Eso es todo lo que quería escuchar.”
The dance between a hunter and the prey is only interesting when the prey seeks the bait the hunter prepared for it. Otherwise, what’s the point of wasting my time on Briseis?
“If that’s all you wanted to hear, does it mean you will let me go?” he asks, resting his head on the stick, gulping for breath, and glancing down at his wounds. “Please.” A beat passes and then he says, “I was kind to you, Santiago.”
“Indeed.” I agree with him and lean closer, so he doesn’t miss a single word. “Your kindness might as well have been a slap in the face as you stood and watched him destroy me, doing absolutely nothing.” Regret flashes in his face; however, it’s too late for such emotions.
Mark might have never participated in the hideous crimes, but his silent support puts him in the same box as everyone else.
Patting his cheek, I dig my fingers in so hard his jaw cracks and he jerks in the hold, too weak to even bother with screams, and thank fuck. I might have to stab a knife in his mouth and where would be the fun in that? “I’m going to show you the same kindness you showed me.” He shakes his head in denial, fear settling on his features, and I chuckle, the sound sinister in its nature and alerting every hair on Mark’s body as goose bumps break on his skin. “After all, fai
r is fair, right?”
He whimpers, silently begging me to stop this madness, while I only laugh.
Nothing can stop the monster eating at me from the inside out, because I’m the product of his creation.
Walking toward the table, I put on leather gloves before wrapping my hand around the silver blade and lift it up, seeing my refection in it. He thrashes in the hold, finding strength after all to fight for his life.
Every choice we make has consequences.
And all the choices Mark has made led him to this moment. Pleasure spreads through me as I deliver blow after blow, before his eyes permanently still in pain and he stops breathing.
Dropping the blood-coated blade on the floor, I glance at the watch on my wrist, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
I remove the gloves, throwing them in a trashcan, and walk toward the sink to wash away any traces of Mark, the fucker who shall never be remembered.
Right now though, I have a party to attend and bait to catch.
Chapter Five
“His eyes are like the clear, blue ocean tempting you to dive in and discover all its secrets.”
Briseis
From Flora’s diaries
2 November
I think I forgot how to breathe.
Something extraordinary just happened, and I’m so shocked yet happy I’m ready to burst.
My heart beats so fast I’m afraid it might jump out of my chest, because the emotions inside me can’t be contained.
I sat in one of the alcoves, ready to read my book, when he showed up.
His eyes settled on me as he sat next to me on the bench and rested his back against it before asking me, “What are you reading?”
I showed him the book, Iliad by Homer, my favorite story. I’ve reread it thousands of times.
Surprise flickered in his gaze before he winked at me and informed me, “I’ve read it too.”
He sat with me under the moonlight for an hour or more, discussing the different characters, and he told me who his least favorite character was.
I barely listened to him, just kept staring at his face, drinking in his every feature while his rich masculine scent mixed with the flowers, and I leaned closer to him, because I knew it wouldn’t last long.
I wanted to ask him what he was doing there with me but was too afraid to let the words out, because then it might have ended. And if life grants you a miracle, shouldn’t you hold on to it with everything you can?
And then, before I knew what was happening, he palmed my head and tilted it back, his eyes roaming over my face while he focused on my lips, and whispered, “You’re so beautiful, Flora.” I was too stunned to do anything and just blinked in shock when he placed his mouth on mine, his tongue licking the seam of my lips before I opened for him, and I experienced my very first kiss.
It was magical.
Afterward, I was so shy I touched my flaming cheeks and ran away from him, shutting the door to my room, and now I’m writing it all here to never forget.
I even pinch myself every few seconds to make sure I’m not dreaming.
My lips burn from the memory alone, and whenever I rub them with my fingers, the kiss comes to mind and my body tingles all over, buzzing with some need I don’t understand.
I’m not sure what happened just now or where my father was at the time.
The kiss might cost me everything if the staff saw us.
However, one thing is crystal-clear for me.
My love is not unrequited.
Which means all the fear in the world cannot stop the happiness spreading in my heart and giving me hope for a future where Howard is with me.
Briseis
Taking a deep breath, I come downstairs and see several servers running around wearing black uniforms and holding different trays with small sandwiches and drinks.
The delicious aroma of Italian food floats in the air, tempting all the guests with what’s to come, while laughter and the hum of voices mix with the jazz music that can be heard from the common room, alerting me that the party is already in full swing.
I spot Lenora among the staff, emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne. She’s about to go into the room when she notices me, and whispers, “Briseis, you’re late. Get in here before anyone notices.” She motions toward the door, but I shake my head, leaning on the banister, almost paralyzed with fear at entering the gates of hell. I have no other metaphor for this freaking party and facing all these people.
What if I make a mistake? Blab something I shouldn’t? Shame the family name?
Grandmother will wipe the floor with me and lock me down. I might act all brave with her, but I’m not so stupid to think all is well.
This party for whatever reason is a test, and if I fail, I might kiss my future free life goodbye. She accepted my blackmail, because it spoke to her cruel tendencies. She would have done the same in my position, which means all my bravery serves as amusement to her.
However, one mistake on my part, and I’m finished.
Lenora exhales heavily, glances around before coming toward me, and hooks her arm in mine, dragging me to the door while murmuring, “Snap out of it, Briseis. You aren’t a kid anymore.” I jerk in her hold, my mind instantly flashing images one after another from that night where I stumbled on Ava’s leg and spilled my drink on a guest standing nearby. Grandmother locked me in the basement for three days with several bottles of water but no food as a punishment.
Lenora shakes my arm, bringing me back to the present, and I muster up a smile, hating my weakness in this moment. I’m twenty-one years old; I should be more… not sure what… but more.
If my best friend had been my grandmother’s granddaughter… she would have never caved under any of her orders or pressure.
And this knowledge only makes me hate myself more, oddly finding strength in this hate too. No one changes without sacrifices.
Focus on the goal.
Determination replaces the fear, and I straighten my back. They all should see a confident woman in front of them who will stop at nothing in order to get her freedom from this demonic family. “You’re right. Let the show begin.” I lean closer and whisper before walking into the common room, “Stay clear of Clare and the evil sisters.” She nods, puts her hand on my back, and ushers me inside, where I enter with loud clicks of my heels and notice several people sitting on the couches, mostly the elderly drinking scotch.
I nod in greeting at a few of them who raise their gazes to me, then quickly stroll toward the dance area where most of the guests are. I almost gasp in awe when I drink in the beauty around me.
The party room has transformed into a magical place with the chandelier shining brightly. The moonlight streaming from several huge windows adds to the atmosphere, almost inviting one to stand under it, awaiting Prince Charming. An open terrace door lets a light breeze inside, enough to cool heated skin and a dizzy-from-alcohol mind.
Several tables are spread with food and drink while servers continue to roam around, offering glasses to anyone who is willing, while a band plays on the stage, every note on their classical instruments so precise and clean, heaven for the ears.
Women wear expensive dresses, with heavy necklaces and earrings. The men are outfitted in tailored suits.
All thoughts vanish from my mind though when I find my half-sisters and their mother watching me from the right corner, sipping champagne. And though they mask it well from others, I don’t miss their hatred, the way it slowly slides through me as if they want to stab an invisible knife into me, and nothing short of my death will be satisfying enough for them.
I walk to them, grabbing a glass of my own on the way, giving a fleeting smile to one of the servers before finally reaching them. “Hello, ladies,” I say softly, since people might listen to our conversation. Most of them are still figuring out who I am.
Clare waves to someone behind my back, the grin on her mouth so wide I wonder if it hurts her, then addresses her
daughters. “Girls, be nice. A lot is at stake here.” She goes toward the person she waved to, completely ignoring me, and I hold back the bitter laughter wanting to slip past my lips.
Clare decided to go back to her status quo, ignoring my entire existence and hiding her head in the sand. Beside that one time she screamed her throat out at Dad for bringing me to his house, she never spoke about me or to me. It’s like I stood behind a wall, being invisible to her.
When I got beaten down, she left the room, shutting the door loudly, and whenever I winced in pain, she’d peacefully read the paper.
Clare hasn’t been an evil stepmother or a good one; she was just there and always did nothing. And somehow, sometimes doing nothing is more catastrophic than taking action.
I never blamed her for such behavior. I imagine no wife would have been pleased to discover their husband cheated and brought the product of said cheating into the house.
It didn’t stop my resentment though; a little kindness or motherly love toward me wouldn’t have killed her.
Children always pay for the sins of their father, a universal truth I learned at a very young age, even when the father is forgiven of his crimes.
I take a large sip, enjoying how the cooling liquid slides down my throat and washes away my hectic emotions.
Addison opens her mouth, flipping her hair back. “Hey, Briseis.” Ava nods at me too, her brows furrowing while the hatred in her eyes flashes so strong I step back a little but mentally prepare myself for the next blow.
Which is why I almost choke on my drink when Ava says, “The old bitch invited half the ton, yet daddy dearest is still not here.” She chuckles, drumming her fingers on the glass. “Oh, she’ll be pissed.”
Addison clinks her glass with Ava’s, laughing, and quickly covers her mouth with her palm. “He’ll be apologizing for eternity.”
“She might even hit him with the cane.”
“Amen to that.”
