Infatuated (Unedited)

Chapter 9

"Do you like it?" The sweet sounding voice of the pale beauty still standing in the doorway sliced through the fog of my mind, luring my eyes to her. "Nicolas wanted to make sure that you'd be as comfortable as possible in this room so if you don't like something, please let me know so we can take care of it right away."

I scoffed and smiled bemusedly, "I suppose not liking the fact that I'm here isn't included in that, is it?" She smiled warmly clasping her hands together and shook her head. "Yeah, that's what I thought." I sat on the edge of the bed, not really wanting to put even the slightest wrinkle in the fancy looking comforter. Everything in this room looks fancy, much more expensive than anything I ever could have afforded. It's like being in a museum filled with history's greatest treasures and having that feeling that you absolutely can't touch a thing.

"Everything in here is yours Rayne. You don't have to sit with half of your butt on the bed!" She laughed, walking around the bed and literally moved me until my back was against the huge mountain of pillows leaning against the headboard. "See, you'll be much happier if you just relax."

I was always taught to be mindful of the things I say and the facial expressions I make but I'm sure all of that just went out the window when she said that. I felt the frown as it took it's place upon my lips and even my brow as it was raised above the other. "Happier? How can I--" I stopped myself, letting those words die in mid-air. I feel like a broken record pleading my case that it's impossible to be ok with something you have no say in. As a woman, I'd think she'd understand where I'm coming from more than the guys but then again she tried her best to make excuses why I couldn't leave earlier. It's weird. All of this is weird. One of the men here hates me, the other is unpredictably hot and cold, and the only woman that I've encountered seems to be treating me like I'm her new gal pal at sleepaway camp. Not that I'm complaining about the gentle approach she's taking with me. I appreciate it to be honest but what I really want is understanding...and a way out.

"Look," she sighed plopping down on the bed beside me, "I understand why you're having a hard time with this but please, just try. Everything will be so much better if you just try."

"That is easier said than done. Imagine being in a strange place with people you know nothing about when it's more than obvious that you're not wanted."

"But you are wanted Rayne!" She retorted as if she were already anticipating those words and I replied just the same.

"I'm not talking about Nicolas." To that she seemed to understand who I was talking about and what I meant. Her face fell slightly as a deep sigh rushed through her nose.

"Armand." She breathed, shoving her hand deep into the thick honey brown curls draped over her shoulder. "Truly the love of my life but his attitude..." she sighed again before scooting a little closer to me dropping her hand into her lap. "There is reasoning behind the way he acts and the way he speaks and the simplest answer I can give is mourning. It's been centuries but similar to Nicolas, he hasn't gotten over Simone's death."

"I don't get it." I shook my head allowing every bit of my confusion to seep through my words. "He hates me because he misses her." Fully intending for that to be a question it came out as a statement instead along with a small dose of the attitude beginning to build behind her response.

"No, he doesn't hate--Armand and Simone were close. Being five-years older than her, early on he was taught to always look after and protect her. From the time we were kids in France until we were budding adults here in this country, I watched the two of them carry on as best friends. They were always together and it probably would have stayed that way if it weren't for me." She paused for a moment pressing her lips into a very thin line. "I had this vision of us starting a family in France; close to my grandmother. She was such an important part of my life that I wanted her influence on my children. We'd just settled in and gotten into the swing of things when we got word that Simone died. Armand immediately shut down and from that day forward, blamed himself for leaving when in reality, it was my mine. He didn't want to move back to France but did so for me. He sacrificed being at his sister's--his best friend's side to make me happy. Like Nicolas, he turned into this very cold hard shell of who he used to be and for a while it put distance between us. It wasn't until nearly fifty-years later when Nicolas met yet another girl that he believed was the bearer of Simone's soul that Armand finally said what he was feeling. He was and til this very day is still mourning Simone's death. Each girl that Nicolas meets with those unique eyes and strange birthmark is a reminder to Armand that he was not there for his baby sister. We all know that even if he had been there, there would have been nothing he could do to save Simone but his guilt is much stronger than logic."