Control

Chapter 5.

     "Yesterday." I gritted my teeth, remembering the tacky bouquet of pink roses sat on the edge of my desk the previous morning with a card attached from John about how worried he was when I had fainted at Ouránios. It was a nice gesture but I hated the notion of flowers at the office—in the end I hid them in the storeroom until I went home.

     "I forgot about them." She cringed. "Maybe this is from John too?"

     "It's not his style," I said, plucking the box from the desk and twisting it around to inspect it. It was solid with golden leaf designs clustered in the corners and a main design of an intricate tree in the middle of the lid. It was clearly an antique and, despite the slight wear and tear it was in beautiful condition. It had a golden key hole and the same leaf design surrounded it. I tried to pry it open, but the box was tightly locked.

     I glanced down at my desk again. No key. There was, however, a tiny envelope that had been hidden underneath the box. Flicking it open, I pulled the piece of card out, and stared at the words written on it.

     'For you, mikre mou tifona.'

     I began to feel the familiar prickle of anger coat my skin before I mentally swatted myself. It was from him! Breathe, Frances. Breathe. I could feel my blood beginning to blister with heat as I clutched the card in my hand.

     "What language is that? Do you know who it's from?" Avery asked as she looked over my shoulder.

     "I don't know and I don't care," I lied, ripping the card into four bits and shoving the box in my desk drawer.

     "Who gives someone a locked box with a message you can't even understand?" She sighed. "Hey wait, give me that and I'll Google Translate it for you!"

     I snatched the bits of card away before she could nab them, shoving them in my trouser pocket as I kept my calm. "I don't want to know what it means."

     "Why?" She cocked her head to the side. "Don't you want to know what the last part says?"

     "No. Can you please just let me work?"

     "Fine, but don't come to me when you regret your decision, because we both know you will." She huffed, throwing a paper clip at me before she resumed typing.

     My eyes rolled as I entered the title of my new article:

     Gifts at Work: Yay or Nay?

                                                                                                * * *

     Regardless of spending approximately twenty five minutes on my foundation and black smokey eye makeup, I was still compelled to carefully put on the 'elegant' black mask Charlotte had bought me for the dreaded masquerade. I originally refused to participate in the insipid dress code but my father was furious and insisted that I would be an embarrassment if I did not make the effort to participate. The worst part was I was being made to wear the white dress that Charlotte had also bought me.

     I could not complain—it was beautiful, a simple, fitting dress with lace sleeves that stretched down my thighs. I just would have preferred it in black; I looked best in black. I could almost hear my father scolding me in my mind: 'You get what you're given.'

     My hair was loose and spilled over my shoulders as usual, but I had made a minor effort to take two pieces from the front sides of my hair to braid them to form a loop around the back of my hair. I was happy enough with the way I looked, which was just enough to keep me from being too troublesome at the party—no—ball. I inwardly groaned.

     "You look beautiful," John complimented from behind me in the mirror.

     "I suppose I look even better since my face is half hidden by this?" I responded sarcastically, tapping the part of the mask that rested on the bridge of my nose.

     He laughed before realising what my comment meant. "No, of course not! You always look beautiful. Do you want a glass of wine?"

     Even though I appreciated a compliment every now and then sometimes it felt like I was dating a parrot. The word beautiful has many synonyms yet John never seemed to use them and every time he said it my value for the word decreased.

     "Thanks and yeah, sure," I said. He hugged me from behind, his arms around my waist and his face beside mine. The smell of his strong aftershave made me cough and I awkwardly pried myself away from him.

     "How much did you put on?" I asked, still sputtering. It was suffocating.

     "Sorry, I must have sprayed a bit too much," he said sheepishly, anxiously smelling himself and wincing, "Is it really that bad?"

     The honest truth was, no. I adored strong aftershave yet for some reason, the particular one that John always wore when we went out somewhere made me want to run outside to breathe in a few lungfuls of fresh air.

     "Maybe try putting on some deodorant to tame it down a bit?" I offered and he nodded, checking the time on his watch before he darted into the bathroom once more.

     The wooden box I had received from that bastard was sat on my vanity table, still locked. The girl had not came back to give me a key and I had not heard anything since. I would have forced it open but for some reason something told me not to. I kept telling myself it was just because I did not want to ruin such an antique, but the truth was... the truth was that I had no idea why.

     I had debated on visiting the Ouránios restaurant to return the bizarre gift but decided against risking a confrontation with the perverted Greek again. It was a risk I decided not to take and, if he turned up at the ball then I would have to do everything I could to avoid him.

     A shrill ring came from the bathroom and echoed into the bedroom. I heard John's muffled voice for a few seconds before he strode out, the smell of his deodorant wafting in.

     "So apparently Dimitri and Tobias will be passing by here on the way to the ball and they said it would be lovely to pick us up and have a chat on the way. They'll be here in about five minutes. I guess we'll have to miss out on that glass of wine, is that okay?"

     "What? I mean—okay, but I'm going to need that glass of wine." I forced out, my heart thrumming in my ears. I am going to kill that bastard!