Noir (Tom Holland)

Eleven

As I expected, the topic of my newly injured face came up in multiple conversations. Gilda was the first to see it when she came in to do my makeup for the dinner. She gasped and swarmed me, "Oh dear, what happened?" "I took a nasty fall," I brushed it off and attempted a smile, "I can barely feel it." Gilda put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue, "I hope you're not lying to me, Andi. I'm not as naive as you think."

    I never thought of Gilda as naive. She raised Tom his whole life, I could only imagine the horrors she's seen. If I could, I would've told her everything, but I couldn't do that. Tom and I needed to work this out on our own and as quietly as possible.

    "Of course not!" I exclaimed, "It's just unfortunate that I was born into the world's clumsiest family. Most of our family reunions start off with comparing new scars." That part wasn't a lie. I remembered during Thanksgiving dinner a few years ago, Austin rolled up his sleeve and showed us a scar he got from playing ping pong with his friends. In fact, the pistol whip was probably one of the only injuries I received that wasn't from a stupid mistake of mine.

    Gilda examined my body language for a moment, trying to detect any falseness from me. Fortunately, I hid myself pretty well. She then nodded her head and set her bags down. "Alright then," she unzipped the bag and pulled out primer, "You look beautiful regardless." We didn't speak much while she did my makeup. There was a lot on my mind and she needed to concentrate on my face considering there was a new embellishment that she needed to avoid. When we did speak, we spoke of the gala and of my dresses. It was pleasant, having this sort of small talk after the events of the past few days.

    Once she finished my makeup and I looked like a goddess once again, I thanked her and rushed to the closet. I chose the light blue dress dinner, saving "Tom's" dress for last. I roamed the material, looking where there could be a microphone, but I couldn't place it. It was nowhere to be seen, a weapon in disguise. My heartbeat quickened, this was the last night of the gala. Harrison would be trying to kill Tom and vice versa, and I was in the middle of it all. Maybe I should've taken up the offer to go home. Maybe this wasn't my fight, maybe I've done all I can.

    There was a knock on the door and I rushed to open it, expecting anybody else but the Vicomte. "Greetings, Miss Webber," he bowed, "I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of finding where you reside." Still bewildered, I curtsied weakly and tried to contain my surprise. I plastered on a thin grin and shook my head, "No I don't mind at all." I held my arm out for him, "Would you do me the honor of escorting me to dinner?" He nodded his head and took my arm. I closed the door behind me and walked arm in arm with the Vicomte.

    Instead of taking the stairs, we took the elevator. It was an uncomfortable silence between the two of us, the tension was heavy. There was a cold unfamiliar feeling on my face and I turned to see the Vicomte stroking my cheek right under the stitches. "May I ask what happened?" he was close to me now, his breath warm against my neck. I was disgusted and anxious; what were his intentions? "Oh...um...I fell," I couldn't think straight due to the proximity. Your contact fucking pistol whipped me, I wanted to say and shove him away, but I knew my place in this game. I knew I had to let certain things happen to make way for bigger actions.

    "Must've been quite a fall, Miss Webber," his lips were ghosting my ear and I shut my eyes tightly, praying for the elevator to open. Despite being only on the fifth floor, time seemed to slow down in favor of the Vicomte. "It...it was," I inhaled sharply when he kissed my neck. Where the fuck was Tom when you needed him most, I thought to myself. I never wanted to be a turtle so bad in my life, nor had I considered even thinking that sentence, but now all I wanted to do was hide in a shell and throw up.

    There was a ding and the elevator door opened. Quickly, the Vicomte pulled away from me and I quietly let a sigh of relief out. The dining hall was filling up quickly as I saw all the people from the night previous in different outfits take their seats and resume their conversations. I was still seated next to Gregory and the Vicomte and I was afraid of what could happen under the table.