Leaning down so close that she could see the bits of emerald swirling in the sea of his eyes, Thomas spoke slowly, carefully. "I would very much like to hear you call here, 'home.' This is your home now, Lauren." His expression softened at her expression of surprise, followed by Lauren's traditional shyness and a sudden, hopeful smile.
"That would be..." she paused for a moment, how to answer this sweetly-issued request as a Crime Lord's captive bride? But it wasn't exactly captivity when she'd settled happily into her cage, now was it? And this beautiful, confusing, often terrifying man had been so very good to her. Most of the time. "It would be nice to have a real home. I haven't had one really, not since my mom died."
There was the oddest moment then, where Thomas's usual expression of urbane amusement shifted into sorrow, tenderness, perhaps even regret. Placing a big hand on each cheek, he gently cupped her face and drew her mouth to his in the most exquisite of kisses, lips shifting and sliding against each other, soft swipes of his tongue while his thumbs caressed her cheekbones. Moving his mouth to her ear, Thomas whispered, "Welcome home."
Lauren pulled him closer by his dress shirt, grabbing handfuls of starched cotton to press against him, kissing him a little needily, sliding her arms around his back and hugging him. Her eyelashes fluttered at his soothing endearments, whispered into her ear as he slid his hands to her bottom and lifted her, grunting as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Carrying her up the stairs and to their bedroom-How does he do that without even breaking a sweat?Lauren marveled as always. She knew she was not light. She was compact. Sturdy. Not willowy. But nonetheless, she was on her back and stripped of her pretty jersey dress in moments,
The following morning,he parted from her at the front door, dressed for battle in his bespoke blue suit and Lauren ready for orchestra practice in the softest of cotton sweaters and a long skirt. Slumping against the wood as he kissed her with some ferocity, Lauren giggled with embarrassment as his gloved hand lifted her chin. "I'll see you tonight, you tasty little darling." Smiling back up at him, Lauren's brow wrinkled, a little confused. There was a look in his eyes. Regret?
Limping into practice, Lauren gratefully seated herself, testing the strings on her cello, listening for the tone as her eyes swept the hall, looking for Macie. There was a thick knot of anxiety that refused to dissolve. Macie was a smart girl. She'd drop this. She was gone forever as a friend, but... Feeling her breath hitch, Lauren gnawed on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to remain calm. Crying didn't do anything.
Tapping his baton, the conductor spoke. "We're opening auditions for the violin section, Macie Emerson emailed in her resignation today. Do let those who might be qualified know about our opening."
Chapter 22 – If I am All You Have, You Will Love Me
In which we find out whether Macie lives, or dies. Because it's like that in The Corporation. No matter who your best friend is.
The house was dark, but it didn't occur to Lauren to turn on any lights. Instead, she paced. Her cello was still sitting in the entry where Chuck had placed it for her, the man eyeing her carefully like she was about to detonate and send shrapnel of hysterical tears at him. "Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Lauren?" he'd asked, feeling as if he was somehow failing his duty by not "fixing" the shaking girl in front of him.
"Uh..." Lauren had tried to concentrate, "no, it's all good. Thanks, Chuck. Goodnight." Aside from flinching slightly when she called him 'Chuck,' the man remained impassive as he left, carefully shutting the door and waiting for the 'click' of the lock. Standing in the dark hall for a while, staring at nothing, Lauren's thoughts flew around her head like frightened birds.
Did Thomas kill Macie? Would he- could he be that fucking evil?
She couldn't think of anything else to do, so Lauren started pacing the living room. It was exactly ten steps to the big, leaded-glass windows. Seven steps to the fireplace. Twenty-one steps to the front entryway again. Absently counting out loud as she paced her erratic triangle, Lauren kept going over the options.
Was Macie appropriately terrified and chose to run?
Was her former best friend's flat was bugged? By Thomas or The Corporation? Did they have someone following Macie?
What if it's The Corporation? Lauren gave an ugly, convulsive sob and slapped her hand over her mouth, trying to not let the silent house hear her. If it's The Corporation, that sick fuck Number One, Macie was dead for sure.Jesus... they wouldn't... but they have a bordello,the girl thought wildly,do they get girls like that? Would they SELL Macie?
"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck!" Lauren keened. This was all her fault, all her fucking fault. Remembering Thomas's cold, indifferent face when he'd nodded to Chuck to shoot her dad- this was not a merciful organization. She was not married to a merciful man. It didn't matter how he treated her. He was a monster. But he wouldn'tkillMacie. "Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five... I bet Macie cut and run. That's it. Macie's somewhere safe." But she couldn't stop shaking.
Lauren was on the 3,075th step when she heard Thomas's key in the door and her trembling turned into a full-body shudder.Cut this shit out!she angrily ordered herself, gritting her teeth.
"Darling?" It was the Voice, Thomas's damnable, rich tones that made her melt, made her cave like a cheap souffle, every time. But not tonight. "Why are you standing in the dark?"
Blinking as the light suddenly switched on, Lauren rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand and wondered if she was next. Trying to drag out the plan she'd made from her exhausted brain, the girl tried to remember if she was going to fake ignorance for a while, lure him into a sense of false security with a nice dinner and a bottle of wine, and then: strike like a snake? Trick him into answering? Watching her husband calmly shed his cashmere topcoat and hang it in the entryway closet, Lauren knew that was ridiculous.
"Macie, she's... Macie's gone." she suddenly blurted, her heart pounding hard enough to choke her. Shuffling through the mail, that smooth bastard didn't even bother to look up, the same calm expression undisturbed on his beautiful, stupid, evil, stupid, stupid face.
"Oh?" asked Thomas indifferently, "Gone where?"
Watching his big hands flicking envelopes open, Lauren shuddered, picturing them around her neck. Were they around Macie's neck last night?Oh, right,she thought bitterly,Thomas never kills himself, too messy.Clearing her throat, she spoke up. "She's gone, Thomas. Did you- Is she dead?" An ugly sob broke through her hard-won demeanor, humiliating the girl.
Her husband looked up sharply, eyes cooling to a frost blue as he looked her over. "What did you just say to me, little girl?"
Voice rising, Lauren couldn't stop herself, still walking in her strange little triangle. "Is she dead, Thomas? Did you kill my best friend? Did you hurt her? I've been so careful to follow yourrules-" she spat the last and suddenly he was in front of her, his tall body blocking the way around him. To escape.
"You will need to stop talking. Right. Now." he snarled, leaning down to crowd her into the mantel of the fireplace. "Think very carefully about what you're blurting out like a little fool. Think about what's at stake before you open your mouth again."
Staring into the chillingly beautiful face of the demon she was bound to; Lauren could feel her heart hitch and miss a beat before reluctantly getting back into rhythm. Licking her lips, she ducked under his suited arm and began her pacing again. “Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen...” Brows furrowed, Thomas leaned against the fireplace and watched his distraught wife conduct her circuit of the great room. Two more paces of thirty each and Lauren was composed enough to speak again. "Macie's gone," she began lamely.
"So I hear," Thomas answered dryly, taking off his jacket and tie, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he found himself mentally counting off his bride's steps before irritably stopping himself.
"It's NOT FUNNY!" Lauren shouted before she could stop herself, trying to back up and nearly falling over the couch as her terrifying spouse stalked over to her, grabbing her upper arms and giving her a brisk shake.
"Lower your voice and calm yourself," he hissed, absently loosening his hands against her arms. Lauren bruised so easily, there were purple marks he very much enjoyed watching sprout the next day after an active session. But the bruises marring her pale skin like handcuffs would give him an unpleasant sensation, they had before. Hustling her into the kitchen, Thomas flipped on the light and started the kettle as he roughly seated her in a chair. The fight seemed to go out of the girl then, hands resting limply on her lap. He cracked his neck absently, remembering her blushing goodbye kiss that morning. The last one he'd be receiving (willingly) for a while, he supposed. "Before you speak another word, you will drink this and take a moment before you blurt out any more accusations." Pouring her a cup of tea, he was somehow irritable with himself for knowing she preferred peppermint when she was sad and upset and like a little drizzle of the honey she'd picked up from the farmer's market in the nearby park. She'd begged him to come with her last Thursday, darting between the booths like a dragonfly and showing him new items with an eager, happy face, looking up to him for his approval with a bright smile. Remembering the outing while he watched her numbly drink the scalding tea, Thomas stopped himself from groaning. When she'd had most of the tea and her hands had stopped shaking, he started again. "How was your 'girl's night' with Macie, darling?" his voice was cold, but composed, "Anything you left out from our chat?"
