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“Thank you,” she says, quietly.
“For what?”
“For being real, Gray.”
I’m anything but real, nor is the place we’re going.
A car idles at the bottom of the steps, the wheels drenched with snow. I didn’t order it, Malachi did. That’s how it works here. We walk down to it, icy air cutting through my suit as we descend. It’s been some time since I’ve been here. I pull in some of the damp night air, remembering the sensations that come with this place. Lust. Longing. Hunger. Envy. They’re feelings I know well, feelings I perversely enjoy. This time I sense some element of insatiable desire, though. As if arriving with someone makes the task harder to tolerate. It’s an irrational thought. Probably just a reflex reaction to offering her protection while we’re here.
“Monsieur Rothburg,” the driver says, in his heavy French accent, as he opens a door for Hannah. She slides in, her body disappearing into the dark interior. “Malachiasked me to give you this.”
I nod and take the small package from him, opening the top, and then chuckle as I follow Hannah inside the car. Within a minute the trunk slams down on our luggage and we start moving, swiftly cutting through the roads despite the heavy snow surrounding us.
I glance over at her after a while and wonder, a small smile still playing around my lips. I don’t know how Malachi knew I was bringing someone, but it seems he does. Not surprising. Malachi Jones knows everything, about everyone.
“Do you really want my protection for the time we’re here?”
“I’m not sure what I need protection from yet.”
I sigh, not sure how I explain what here is. Here is wickedness and pain, tolerance and acceptance, fantasy and fiction. It is desire and need, pleas and offerings of everything and anything. It’s a dream, a reality away from the ordinary. An imaginary world, make believe.
“You might not need protecting at all, but you will need time to assimilate.” I pull out the metre long, thin, gold chain and hold it in my hand, letting her look at it. “This will keep you attached to me while you take that time.”
“Why would I want to be attached to you?”
“It will help you comply.”
“We’ve already discussed comply. It means I do something willingly. A chain around me would show something other than willing.”
“A chain linked to me means you’re safe from anyone else, Mrs Tanner. That is all it suggests. You are free to go in without it, or my protection, if you choose.”
She takes it from me and plays with it in her hands, twirling the length around her fingers and creating loops with it. I watch, interested in her reaction to it, as well as my own. The thought amused me at first, made me laugh at the absurdity, but now, as we get closer, the covetous nature of my wayward thoughts keeps engraining further.
My gaze lifts to her face again, somehow mesmerised by those flat, red lips and hollowed cheekbones. She seems almost gaunt, as if haunted by thoughts and undercurrents of anguish. It’s provocative in its own right, reminding me of my own agenda and memories. Perhaps we’re the same, her and I. Misplaced in a turmoil not of our own making.
“How does it attach you to me?” she asks, passing it back to me.
I loop it loosely around her wrist, sliding the chain through the small ringlet on the end, and then do the same to my own wrist to join us. “See? Nothing more than that.” I slide my own end off and pass it back to her. “As and when you need me, put it on me again.”
She looks back out of the window after that, no other words as we keep travelling, and begins twirling the gold around her fingers again. I close my eyes rather than keep tempting myself with these selfish thoughts I shouldn’t be having. She’s not mine, and I’m not hers either. Never will be. We are separate, and I am simply a support mechanism while we’re here.
A guide into a distraction we both need.
Chapter 15
Hannah
Ican’t feel Rick anymore. He’s not with me now. I’m alone, but for Gray’s company, and nothing seems as it was. I’m lost in a maze of unanswered questions and thoughts. They’re questions that will never be answered. I don’t even know what I’m doing now as we travel to god knows where, but what does that matter? The dress is nice, the heels nicer, and the coat is lavish, shrouding me with warmth and a sense of care. Gray doesn’t care, though. Why would he? He doesn’t even want to fuck me. I don’t know what that means, regardless of planes and cars and luxuries.
The car’s effortless speed through the snow finally begins to slow, eventually coming to a stop. It’s all snow and darkness out there, no signs or lights to guide the way or tell me where I am. I clutch the gold chain absently, as if it’s something to cling on to, and stare out into the night. It’s like my life now. Barren and empty of content other than the ground we’re on passing us by. Maybe this is life now. Endless not knowing. Constant dismissal of the world around me.
I watch as the driver gets out and disappears from view. Gray’s door opens and he gets out, his frame leaving me dwelling in the confines of this luxurious interior with nothing but this chain to hold on to. He said he could be that for me, someone for me to hold on to. Not those words exactly, but that’s what he meant by giving me this chain I’m holding. The connotation was that he’d be here for me if I put it on his wrist. Maybe I will if I need him, but not yet. Alone is calming. Reassuring in some way.
My own door gets opened, Gray’s hand reaching for me in a show of chivalry. I don’t take it. I step out on my own and look around at the snow cleared path, bare legs sensing the frost and ice. I’m alone now in life. Single. Widowed. I’ll take my chances with my own judgements and desires instead of leaning on a man I hardly know. I’m sensible most of the time, or was before I found out my husband was fucking the entire world behind my back. Maybe I’m changed now. Different than the dutiful housewife I used to be. Thoughts are circulating in me, memories of a time before Rick. Dirty. Harsh. Wild.
Wanton.
“What do you want to be called?” he asks.
