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I turn away then and try to relax to the classical music playing through the speakers. An hour later I cannot take it anymore. I plead with one of the waiters to bring Pierre out and the moment he comes running out of the kitchen, I address him.
“I need to leave now.”
He looks towards the kitchen and then back to me. “I still have one hour on my work.”
“It’s alright,” I say with a smile. “I’ll take a cab home. Could you please give me the address?”
“Non, non, non,” he refuses, “just wait one hour and I will be finished.”
“Trust me, Pierre. I need to leave now. We might truly get in trouble if I stay any longer.”
“That’s the plan!” he cries confidently. “Make him jealous. I go with you so he sees me dropping you off. Believe me he will be extremely jealous.”
“I’m really not sure about this, Pierre.”
“Trust me. I am a man. I know how men think. We are all apes inside.”
“I think I just want you to call a taxi,” I say, anxiety growing in my voice.
He shakes his head. “Just wait here for me, okay? I will try to hurry as much as possible. I promise I will get you back by 9.30 latest.”
I nod because I need to think. He smiles and rushes off towards the kitchen.
Pierre thought his plan would make Brand jealous, but I know that there is no chance in hell of that happening. Agitated because he thought I had escaped? More like downright murderous? Yup, we are going to pull that off with a bang.
I pick up a glass of wine and drain the entire glass in one go. I then take a deep breath and buckle my nerves in to last until the end of Pierre's shift.
At fifteen past nine, Pierre pulls up his Renault and for a moment I do not want to come out. It is unusual not to see any guards outside, and it increases my wariness.
“Thanks for taking me, Pierre. You better get home now,” I say, but he gives me an amused look and gets out of the car and comes around to my side.
“I thought you were going to drop me off and leave.”
“I am, but first I am going to escort you to the front door.”
I sigh. I guess it is better he is with me so that I can have some control over the situation. Away from me, and I cannot guarantee his safety.
A rude awakening awaits Pierre when we walk into a room that is colder than the wintry night beyond. It seems like an army is in the room and at the center of it all is their general, with a glare that is ready to draw blood.
His gaze moves between me and Pierre before finally settling darkly on Pierre. I can tell Pierre feels every bit of the tension in the room. All his cheeky confidence is gone and he instantly begins to explain himself, his English far worse than it has ever been. There is even a slight stutter thrown in the mix. Brand remains seated, impassively staring at Pierre’s face.
“Mademoiselle Liliana … uh … f-felt very alone, so uh … I have a job, another one from this … uh … patisserie and ... so I take her with me.”
Brand rises to his feet and a split second later Pierre is staring down the barrel of a hand gun. I almost scream out in fright at the sudden appearance of the weapon, my hand clapping over my mouth. Pierre goes white as a sheet. He is trembling so much I can actually see his hands shaking.
I immediately jump in front of the gun my arms spread out in his defense. "Brand," I cry. "Don’t blame him. I pleaded with him to take me out. There was a bakery opening tonight and since he works there. I just needed to breathe for a little whil-”
“If you don’t move I’m going to send the bullet through the both of you,” Brand says with cold narrowed eyes. I don’t doubt he will do it, but I turn around and throw my arms around Pierre’s as a shield. Nothing can happen to him on my behalf. I hear the cocking of the gun and tremble even more than Pierre does. Tears start running down his eyes.
“Get this fool out of here,” I hear Brand say coldly, and we both nearly collapse at his words.
Two of his guards come over and roughly manhandle Pierre out of the room. I watch him leave and then turn around to glare at Brand. I am still shaking with shock. I march towards him, and in front of the rest of his guards, swing the hardest slap that I can towards his face.
His reflexes are lightning quick and he catches my wrist and twists my arm. “Did you just try to hit me?” he asks, almost in disbelief.
“What is wrong with you?” I scream. “What is fucking wrong with you? Why do you do this to people?”
“Get out,” he tells his men. In seconds we are alone.
“So I went to a bakery and ate some French desserts,” I taunt. “What are you going to do about it, huh? Are you going to kill me? Yeah? Then you better do it right now otherwise I’m going to be the one to kill you because you’re fucking insane. Do you hear me Brand? You’re fucking out of your mind. Are you even human anymore?”
With a strong tug I break his hold on my wrist.
“Fuck you,” he says, turning around to head up the stairs.
I don’t even think. I am like a crazed person. I go after him taking the stairs two at a time to catch up to him. I don’t even know what I want to say to him, all I feel is this ball of frustration and anger that feels like it is going to kill me so the moment I get to him at the landing I just start hitting him like I am some sort of robot or machine that is malfunctioning. I pound his back and kick him with all my might. He turns around, grabs me and drags my body so close to his it is no longer possible to punch or kick out.
“Fuck, Liliana, are you trying to provoke me further?” he spits furiously.
“Provoke you further to what?” I ask. “You’ve been dreaming of killing me for years. Go on. Do it. I dare you,” I say.
He grabs my neck with a hand and suddenly I am held in a chokehold. “Stay away from me,” he warns as angry tears roll down my eyes and splatter on his hand. He pushes me away then, lightly, but it is more than enough to send me staggering backwards. I try to right myself, but my foot meets nothing, and before I know it I am tumbling down the stairs.
I try to latch onto something, but the only thing within my grasp is empty air. All I can see is Brand’s eyes widened in horror. I watch it all almost in slow motion. Brand comes after me but it is too late.
I tumble down the rest of stairs. All I see is Brand’s coat billowing out behind him as he tries to catch me.
Then my head hits the hard ground and I see actual stars.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brand
Watching her tumble down the stairs, her eyes fixated solidly on me fills me with such acute fear my insides shake like jelly. I don’t even feel this when my own life is in danger. Maybe because I accepted I won’t live a long life. In my profession, it is damn well baked in the cake. Live by the sword die by the sword.
But the thought of Liliana dying is like the whole world turning black.
Thankfully, she passes out for just a few minutes. With my heart in my throat, I gather her into my arms and her eyelids flutter open. She blinks then tries to focus on me. I stare at my fiery angel, my mind in turmoil. I don’t know why she pushes me to such uncontrollable rages, but I cannot bear it when I hurt her.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper hoarsely. The words tumble out on their own accord, even though I cannot remember the last time I apologized to anyone.
Her fingers grab my shirt and she refuses to let go, holding on with all her might, even though she is barely conscious.
With her secure and safe in my arms, I rise to my feet and go back up the stairs. I lay her on my bed and, releasing her fingers from my shirt, run my hands over her body. She appears not to have broken anything. The relief is palpable I cannot get rid of the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. We cannot continue like this. One of these days I’m going to end up hurting her.
I stand and pace the floor restlessly. Liliana will be my salvation and destruction.
She calls my name and I go and lie next to her. I can smell the cakes
she has eaten on her breath and something inside me breaks. I am destroying her. I convinced myself that was what I wanted, but I know now it is not. It is not. No, I don’t want to break her. I want to keep her. Dare I admit it, love her. I place my hand lightly on top of her and watch as she drifts in and out of sleep, my heart beating harder and faster than it ever has. I cannot stop looking at her, breathing her in, inching my way closer and closer towards her. She is mine. All mine.
Her hair is all over the place and I brush it gently away from her beautiful face. She talks a little in her sleep ... indecipherable musings that make me hurt. I have given her so much grief … so much pain. It’s time I stop. I don’t care about taking revenge anymore. It was a destructive goal that I held on to for too long.
Of course, it was not her fault that my mother died.
I was a kid. I couldn’t deal with the guilt. I needed someone to blame. To hate. But the truth is I never really hated her. I had to talk myself into it. The closer I got to her, the more hateful I had to force myself to be. I can remember that day I stole a kiss from her like it was yesterday. I knew even then she was mine. I was willing to pay any price to have her then. No one could have convinced me to drop her. Not my father, not my mother.
It was fate that intervened.
