“Play for me.”
She starts playing.
The room fills with one of the most famous melodies in the world. The piece permeates the air with such clarity that there isn’t one part that feels rushed or mechanical. As it ebbs and flows seamlessly, it is almost surreal that I find myself likening it to the tides of water flowing downstream.
Chantel plays the piece with such passion that I can only sum it up as this: if the notion ofsublimenesswere to take musical form,thisis what you would hear.
Phillipe has been gone all afternoon. After Gemma left, he decided that he wanted some time to think.Things are not going as planned. Originally, he wanted Gemma to come to the chateau, read the journal, ask her questions, and write her story.
However, like the way everything else seems to be turning out for him as of late, it is not going according to plan. Instead, he’s finding Gemma extremely hard to resist, especially when she’s imitating or replicating Chantel. In his mind, it’s becoming more and more difficult to differentiate between the two. The two women seem to be merging into one, and it’s now almost impossible for him to stay away.
This evening, he makes the decision to go to her. He knows that Gemma has gone back down to study the paintings, and he has a feeling that he will find her there.
As he makes his way down the stairs, he can hear music playing.Air,he thinks immediately. Stopping two steps from the bottom, he leans against the wall and closes his eyes, remembering that day. He knows that, at the beginning of the recording, he capturedherfor a moment.
When she first left him, he sat down in the showroom with that piece playing on a continuous loop. But now? He remembers he hid it away, because it’s been months since he heard her play this.
Taking the last two steps, he expects to see Gemma standing in the empty space, but she’s nowhere to be found. Obviously, she left the music playing before moving to the showroom.
Deciding to leave it on, he makes his way across the room to the door leading to the dimly lit area. When he steps through, he sees Gemma standing directly in front of the painting titledSacred.
She has her hands behind her back, and he can see the journal between her fingers. He must have made some kind of noise, because she turns to face him.
“Gemma.” He nods.
She responds with a slight return nod and serious eyes. “Phillipe.”
“How was your afternoon?” he inquires as he moves closer.
“I spent it down in the arbor reading.”
His eyes move to the journal then back to hers. “Oh? What did you learn today?”
“So far, not much. She’s writing about the night she went to the gala with you.” Gemma hesitates. When he doesn’t respond, she foolishly continues. “Isn’t that the night the press first wrote about her?”
He nods again. “Yes, it was. Do you remember what they said?”
A frown forms as she thinks about that question for a moment. In stark detail, he witnesses as each emotion crosses her delicate features when they enter her mind.
“Yes.”
He narrows his eyes, knowing he just put her on guard. “You do, don’t you? What is it they said?” he asks.
His voice is deceptively calm, but his eyes are giving him away. There’s a storm brewing inside of him, and he knows that she can sense it.
Licking my lips nervously, I square my shoulders as though I am heading into battle. “They said that you broke the ambassador’s nose and ribs in a jealous fit of rage.”
He moves abruptly, looming directly in front of me. Gripping my shoulders tight, he hauls me up against him, and the journal falls from my hands.
“I was jealous, Gemma. I should have fucking killed him that night,” he growls.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t look away. He’s so magnificent in his rage that I can’t help but stare up at him as I see the truth of his words in his eyes.
“Do you know why I didn’t?” he asks quietly.
At this stage, I know my eyes have to be as wide as saucers. I stand mute, not having the ability to voice the question that I am dying to ask, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to tell me anyway.
“Because I was afraid I’d hurt her as well.” He pushes back from me and turns, pacing across the space. “She just fucking stood there, Gemma.”
