Page 69 of Blind Devotion
“We both know that’s not what happened.”
“Like you said, she was still a kid, and she needed her best friend.” His lips trilled loudly across the line. “You know, I even deluded myself into thinking you loved her in your own way.”
“Not into the whole underage thing.”
“You were only five and a half damn years apart.”
“She was fifteen to my twenty.”
“And you were eleven to her six when you first met. Don’t forget, no matter how old you were, you two were inseparable for almost a decade. Until the day you threw that away. Tell me why, exactly, I would ever put faith in you for her sake?”
“You should’ve tried at the very least.”
“You should’ve been there. Listen up,coglione, and think on this. You broke the contract. If you hadn’t, you would’ve married her almost two years ago. My father would have had no control over her. She would have been safe at your side. She would be in your home, and none of this would have happened. This, everything that happened to her, whether she’s dead or alive, is your fault. She’s gone because ofyou. Live with that, fucker.”
The call dropped off. One second, the phone was in my hand. The next, it was crashing into the wall. My glass of half-finished whiskey followed, splintering into pieces, alcohol spraying the area. All it needed was a lighter for my sanctuary to burst into flames to match the chaos of my life. My chest heaved. My arms and fists trembled with the need to hit and pound and grind until everything around me was razed to the ground.
Chapter 28
Aknockonthedoor stirred me awake. Now, granted, I only slept consciously in my bedroom eight nights, but I could’ve sworn the sheets didn’t smell like him before or feel like I was floating on silky clouds. I definitely hadn’t been cocooned this comfortably on my medical bed either. I stretched my arms and legs out wide. This mattress was at least twice the size, and there wasn’t a mechanical sideboard to adjust the backrest and footrest.
It took me a moment to realize last night hadn’t been a dream. He’d been here. With me. In bed, touching me, but the sheets were cold where he’d been. There wasn’t even a dip to prove he’d ever lain there. All that was left was his cologne and that ache between my thighs demanding more of what he’d given me.
Did he regret it? Is that why he’d gone?
I was so focused on the bed, I didn’t realize someone was in the room until the curtain rings scraped along the rod, and the curtain swished open. I squinted through the blurry burst of light in my left eye.
“Good morning, mademoiselle,” Marie said. Her soft-soled shoes swept across the room. “Monsieur De Villier requests your presence downstairs when you are able. He’s also sent these for you. Flowers, beautiful red roses, and a gift. I’ll just leave them here on your nightstand.” Two items clacked against the furniture. Paper rustled. “Would you like help getting dressed?”
“No, thank you, Marie.”
The moment she left, I felt for the vase and pulled the flowers to my nose. Fresh, floral, soft, and sweet. I sighed in relief. He didn’t regret it.
Setting the flowers back down carefully, I reached for the second item Marie left. It was a length of metal folded in five with a leather loop. The paper beneath it was embossed in braille.
Slowly, I deciphered the letters. With only a few days’ worth of studying the alphabet under my belt, I only got one letter mixed up. In French, it read “mobility cane”. Further down the paper were more braille instructions, but I decided on a shower, getting dressed, and going down for breakfast.
From his walk-in closet, I picked one of his shirts that reached halfway down my thighs and paired it with some sweat shorts that I had to tie to keep them from slipping off. When the doorknob turned without resistance, a buzzing tension made me fidget with nerves. Last night, I was wrought with emotion and turmoil. What would he think of me this morning after everything I’d told him?
I worked my way down the stairs slowly, thankful I’d left my new cane in the room. I needed both hands unoccupied for this and my full attention.
Halfway down, I started distinguishing voices coming from further within the house. Some female. Some male. Deep. Nasal. Hoarse. Honeyed. Each male voice sounded like one of the many that used and abused me. I never remembered their faces. Buttheir voices. Their words. Their weight on me. Their touch. It wasn’t them. I knew that. I knew Adrien wouldn’t allow them into his home.
Still, each one echoed over and over, louder than the one next to it, threatening to drag me back there. To that boat. To that room with ambient lighting flaring from yellow to red to blue. Oh god, I was going to be sick.
I sucked in several deep breaths. I was a survivor, not a victim. I was alive and out and never going back. This wasn’t real, I repeated over and over. I was safe. I was—
The most beautiful, lilting piano notes cut through the voices. Tender and gentle with so much longing and love. I recognized it: “Salut d’Amour” by Elgar. The memory came quickly. It was a song I learned to play on both piano and violin, specifically for Adrien. I made my brother videotape me playing each part of the duet, to then merge and superimpose them into one file to send to Adrien in France for his twentieth birthday. It had been my way of expressing my love.
I followed the notes down the stairs, through a hall, and into a room with doors wide open. The music never stopped, playing on a loop once the song ended. A skip of a key here, an oversight in tempo there—this wasn’t a recording. I walked in transfixed, holding my breath.
The relief was immediate. Itwashim playing. He didn’t make a sound or stop the melody, but I just knew. He had that sort of presence that just sucked the air out of the room, robbing the essence of everything around him so that only he existed. Nothing could compete with him, not even the basic molecules of life.
A note pitched too high, before the tune picked right back up.
“Close the door.” I loved that deep firmness to his voice, but this time, there was a brittleness to its normal cool composure. “I hoped you’d come.”
“You play beautifully.”
