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“Okay that’s it. I’m calling a cab” Gloria announced, downing the remaining bit of her drink before storming off towards the red carpet exit.
Chapter 3
Every day, by 5am, Viktor would roam the house, moving from room to room, or maybe silently practice martial arts in the newly installed dojo in the mansion, in the dark, or with his eyes closed; going through the motions, imagining he was fighting against himself. He would look at the art exhibits, and paintings on display, otherwise, as he sidled from one chamber to another or just stare at framed photos and paintings of his family-especially the large one that hung over the huge fireplace located deep within the mansion. He would place a cushion stool before the fireplace to sit and stare.
He would stare especially at his mother, the Countess Valgloria, allocating a considerable amount of time to her; even in the lifeless landscapes of the still portrait, her gaze still seemed to smolder in all its depths. Her dark hair-jet black like his, seemed to shimmer over her shoulders, like shiny dark liquid. Every time he sat there, he could have sworn her eyes moved, and that the invisible smile behind her pale red lips peeking out at him just for the tiniest of moments. Her beauty had haunted many a man; noble and commoner alike, and yet she had eloped with a migrant worker whom she had run across on a rare night of indiscretion.
Then after a while, Viktor would shift his eyes, albeit with reluctance from his mother’s face to other members, starting with his father; stern eyes and imperious moustache set in place like flint. The routine had not changed in the few months that he had been there in the United States, and had shown no signs of changing, which was the reason for the look of mild amusement across the face of Sergei, the butler, when he gently pushed the heavy brown mahogany doors to find Viktor asleep on the bed at 5am, instead of haunting the halls of the house as usual.
He moved without a sound to the bed, to check and make sure that all seemed well. He nodded his grey narrow grey head in agreement before making his way out. He picked up a complimentary card from the bedside table; it was hardly legible in the deep twilight of the master bedroom.
“Patton and Patton; private investigators.”
A few hours later, it was light outside but you would not have known in the spacious dining room in which Viktor was breakfasting. There were no windows that led outside in the room located deep in the mansion, and thus no natural light. It was not dark however, and Viktor sat bare-bodied, in nothing but black track suit trousers, in the full glare of the fluorescent light bulbs that lay hidden up around the ceiling at different several different points.
His cutlery made the only sound as he sliced into the classic Russian breakfast, which meant that instead of orange juice and white or brown bread, there was tea and rye bread-or black bread as called in the motherland. He sliced into some soft, Bavarian type sausage, and was lavish with his butter because he felt good. Not particularly appetizing but great for those who were used to.
Sergei, who approached the table a short while later remarked about it, much to the amusement of Viktor. They both spoke English, but usually exchanged in Russian, as they did now:
“Late mornings, and an extra dose of butter sir; we are most surely well this morning!”
Viktor smiled, nodded and chewed on sausage at the same time “I think I’m in love Sergei.”
It was a statement of fact, and Sergei who had been with his family for quite a while, and had watched him grow knew that was the truest Viktor could ever be; he took words very seriously and hardly minced them.
“There were several people here the other day, lots of them beautiful-not the classic Russian beauty sir, but beautiful nonetheless.”
Viktor pushed the plates away, smiling; he had nothing against Russian pride, but he did not buy into the belief that Russian women were the most beautiful.
He stood up because Sergei would not sit down, “She is the most gorgeous being I have ever laid eyes on. There most fascinating thing is a certain radiance-an energy that seems to emanate from within-it’s either that or I have locked myself away for too long.”
“Probably both, sir.” Sergei said in levity, “I shall be off to my duties then.”
