Choice And Consequence

CHAPTER 2

LISTEN TO:

My Oh My - Camila Cabello
Devil Eyes - Hippie Sabotage

***

In this heat, Madelaine was barely able to form a thought. There was no refreshing breeze to cool her over-heated face, or any clouds to block the high Autumn sun. 

Her mind was so much like the ocean watching for an incoming ship; calm on the surface with so many deep underwater currents. 

Madelaine curled her fingers around the thin fabric of her uniform shirt, waving it in and out to create just a little airflow, but it was no use. She chewed on her lip impatiently, eyes glued to the door as if she had the power to look inside. 

When she entered the room, the Reverend Mother smiled reassuringly at her. "Madelaine, my dear, let me introduce you to Monsieur Vladimir Bordeaux, who has come to collect you on behalf of your papa." 

As stubborn as she was, Madelaine refused to look in the direction of the man sitting beside her until the last moment, her eyes widening in stunned astonishment when she finally did so.

This man was not at all as she had imagined a friend of her father to be. For one thing, he was so much younger. Considerably older than Madelaine, but far, far younger than her father. 

He looked like a man who thought about something, and then thought about it more a few more million times. His hair was lazily ruffled, the brown tips haphazardly intertwined into beautiful chaos. He had a scruff that covered the smooth skin of his jaw, that made him look dark and dangerous. Madelaine then trailed her eyes further down, noticing how his tailored shirt strained against his toned muscles. 

The man was a virtual image of an ancient Greek fantasy.

The Reverend Mother loudly cleared her throat, causing Madelaine to abruptly revert her attention to the front. As details about her departure from the convent were discussed, Madelaine forced herself to risk a glance into the face of man already studying her.

Was it because she was used to seeing only softer female features than the harsh masculinity of sharp defined cheekbones, and a dark chiselled jaw that had such an impact on her?

Madelaine's eyes returned almost dazedly to the angles and planes of a face so totally male. She focused on his eyes, but it was like nothing was there to behold. An endless depth of ink, sorrow, and pain. She could not see the whites of his eyes nor the vessels that flowed through them. 

They were depths of Tartarus holding a thousand souls, yet there were none to be seen.

His predatory eyes, half-concealed by thick black lashes, studied her coolly for several achingly long seconds, holding her gaze deliberately until Madelaine felt she was drowning in the darkest seas.  

His lips curled sardonically as he straightened his posture against the back of the chair, aware of the girl's curious gaze. The monsieur kept glancing at his chained watch wrapped around his wrist, as if he had somewhere else to be. 

Taking the hint, the Reverend Mother gracefully stood up, kissing Madelaine gently on each cheek. "Remember, cara mia, we are always here if you want us." she spoke in Italian, and Madelaine responded in the same language.

Hearing the monsieur's voice for the first time, she felt startled when the tall, dark man at her side drawled cynically in perfect Italian, "We can hope that life treats her too kindly for her to need a refuge, Reverend Mother." 

Walking with utter grace and ease, he opened the door, one hand on Madelaine's shoulder, her soft skin feeling as though it was burning beneath his touch. The monsieur pushed her gently through the open door, and led her outside in the front courtyard.