“Let me explain—”
“No.You did all the talking that night. This time, I’m talking. I’m stronger now. I’m tougher. I’m not that little girl who cried over you anymore,” she lied, “and you’re not going to abandon Wulfram when he needs you more than ever before. You will do exactly what I say, got it?”
“Yes,” he said, glancing back at the staff, who were cooking and paying no attention to their end of the kitchen.
“Good.When Wulf and Rae aren’t around, don’t you even goddamn talk to me. I don’t want to hear your stupid voice. Understand?”
He stared into his coffee. “Yes.”
Flicka stomped out of the kitchen.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, breathing hard and trying to calm her panicking heart that was shredding itself in her chest, before she climbed the stairs to be with Rae and Wulfram.
Damn him.
Flicka had thought the last two years had scarred her, toughening her skin until nothing could slice her again.
Seeing the baby Alina and calculating what must have happened exactly two years ago had flayed her all over again.
Under The Same Roof
Flicka von Hannover
Damage.
During the summer in the southwestern US, the sun isn’t a benevolent warm hug in the sky like in London or Switzerland.
The southwestern sun is a white-hot star that scorches the sky and sears pavement and sidewalks. It blasts laser beams, thinning the air, and staying out too long feels like radiation burns on your skin.
Flicka stayed insideSchloss Southwestern,only venturing out in the early morning for a quick swim in the central courtyard pool or driving around in air-conditioned vehicles.
Even at night, the hot air clung to her skin, making her sweat almost instantly.
It was absolutely abominable.
And Dieter Schwarz skulked around the house, carefully avoiding her as much as possible.
Yet she stayed on in the parched, air-conditioned house, keeping Rae company and watching Wulf.
Wulf was perfectly calm. He sat beside his wife as she lay in their bed for hours, talking with her, watching dozens of movies, and just being there.
He had a television installed on the bookcases that filled the walls so Rae could comfortably watch while lying on her left side.
He brought in carpenters to build a special desk that was wheeled up to the side of the bed, where textbooks or tablets could be propped at an angle for easier reading, and a computer monitor also tilted for her viewing as she typed or dictated.
When Wulf was in the bedroom with his wife, he smiled calmly and cared for whatever she needed or wanted.
Outside of the bedroom, Wulf was a steel-coated machine, betraying no emotion as he manically finished tasks so he could return to her.
His despair worried Flicka. There was no way she could leave.
Flicka had a desk moved into their bedroom so she could keep Rae company while they worked.
For the wedding, Flicka kept all the metaphorical balls in the air, ready to slash a proverbial ribbon and activate the Rube Goldberg machine of wedding planning.
At the first word that Rae and Wulf had been cleared to have their wedding, Flicka could make one phone call to set the process in motion, pick up her already-packed suitcase from her closet, and be driven to the airport where Pierre’s smaller jet would be filing its flight plan and fueling to fly her to Montreux to oversee the details.
The concierges at theLe Montreux Palace hotel were highlighted in Flicka’s contacts list.
