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IT WAS NIGHTFALL BY THE TIME I'D GOTTEN MY SHIT TOGETHER. Not that I'd done a good job at it, but I was composed with the letter in my hand, prepared to accept my part in ruining my boss' marriage.
I did my best to not grip too hard on the envelope or my cardigan as I made my way through the clocktower. Despite my constant thoughts on what would happen once I did this and how he would react, I couldn't bring myself to move very fast down the corridors. 'Knowing Caius would want this' is just not enough to hasten my pace.
There were eyes on me when I walked, much like the eyes that Chrissy had complained about to me the nights before tonight. Eyes of predators, as she described them, but it didn't feel like that to me. Some were curious, some knew something I didn't. I wasn't aware of what business the Volturi were into, I could chalk it up to that right now.
The curious ones, that desperation for knowledge as they stared, lingered on my sleeves and my cheeks when I finally knocked on Caius' office door. I didn't fully know if he would open it for me at this hour, but I wanted him to. No matter how much he angered Chrissy or upset me, I still wanted him to let me inside his office.
Caius was awake, his head popping out of the door before giving me an oddly comforting look.
"Why are you up at this hour?" Caius asked. Before I could answer, he pressured me to come inside, checking around to see if anyone was outside. I complied, walking into his large office.
"What is it that you have in your hand?" The letter was slightly crumpled, no doubt, inside of its white envelope. "Do you not know who it is from?"
I looked down at the ground, at the rug and the marble flooring, almost ashamed. He was being uncharacteristically kind. I didn't want to look him in the eyes, to do anything other than show the letter and bolt. Blowing the whistle on an affair is not what I expected I'd be doing in Volterra. Despite it being the right thing to do... this would surely damage familial relationships.
Still, I suppose it wasn't me having the affair. Second-hand shame would do me no good.
I handed over the letter, still not looking at him.
"I opened up the letter to see whose it was this afternoon, as I sometimes do if the person who addressed the letter has bad enough handwriting. When I did, it took me until the end of the first paragraph to figure out who it was addressed to," I tried to begin my explanation without the full details.
"Why would I be interested in my family's exchanges with others?" He questioned with the least malice I'd ever heard from his lips. "I don't care much for gossip, River."
My head cocked up to see the opened letter between his fingertips.
"This isn't gossip," I defended as I prompted him to open up the letter, "I wish it was. Frankly, I wish I could have never seen this at all. Besides being erotica in a loose sense, it was addressed to your wife."
