I'm beginning to regret the idea of ever coming here when I see the smirk widening on her lips. Why in the world would she be happy to see me here? And then again, she isn't pleased. She has a mischievous smile on her lips that makes me immediately doubt her intentions when I'm the one that came here with particular intentions.
"Don't just stand there, little thing. Do come in." She elegantly invites me into her luxurious house with a swing of her arm that leaves her robe floating through the air a moment.
I'm immediately annoyed, and I remind myself of all the hate I have always felt towards her. Marcel had sort of tamed that fire when he informed me that the time he was spending with her was, in fact, to work on his story. I have always seen her as a threat to him and his sanity. But she has been working with him, so she has been helping him instead. But has she really helped him? That's what he seems to think, but I have never seen him change apart from him falling deeper into her nets. I know it's to accomplish his career, but is it really worth the price of his soul? She has her claws so deeply into him, I need to figure this out on my own. If I hadn't come here tonight, I would have always stayed in the dark, and since I want to spend more of my time with Marcel, I need to know his deepest and darkest secrets. And that starts by getting to know her and her relationship with him. What has it been like from her point of view?
I decided to abstain from responding to her like I would probably have done usually and get inside her house. The air is warm, and it's unsettling. It's voluntarily warmer than any other typical housing climate.
"Is something in the oven?" I ask her, getting alarmed at the high temperature.
"Oh no, darling. I just like it hot." She responds with the same smirk she has welcomed me with. "The hotter the temperature, less are the clothes I have to wear."
I roll my eyes and turn my head so she doesn't notice my attitude. I feel a bit awkward, but I have to remember I'm the one in control here, not her. I came here. I want something from her. And that is answers.
"Yes, well, I came here for a reason," I tell her directly, meaning business.
I think she gets it. She straightens herself and leans her head to the side to look at me and considers the situation. She seems to be very analytical, something I should have probably noticed before.
"Alright. You seem to have come here with a plan. Tell me what you had in mind."
She doesn't fight me, on the contrary, and that destabilises me a lot. I came here with a more combative spirit, which threw me out of my game. Maybe I should be more understanding of her being so open and sociable to little old me coming here with my head full of vengeance and an attitude full of arrogance.
"I've read Marcel's novel."
"Oh, he's told you about that."
"He tells me everything." I lie instantly, somewhat trying to show her the strength of Mace and I's bond.
"Oh, he does, doesn't he?!" She clearly mocks me with a laugh. It makes me absolutely livid.
I don't respond to anything. I simply look at her for a moment and reach inside my bag to show her the manuscript. I throw it on the coffee table in between our seats. It slides before her with a loud sound that echoes through the room.
She simply leans in and smiles before falling back into her seat, her legs crossed elegantly. Her poise is too confident for my taste. Even though I have always despised her, knowing she mainly met Marcel to work on his story, tamed that hatred towards her. But having her in front of me reminds me of everything that I loathe about her. She makes me feel like she wants and needs to feel superior to me. It makes me cringe. But it's precisely what she is doing right now.
"This isn't his original story." She smirks at me, something on her mind.
"I know."
"This isn't his original title either."
She gets up without another word and leaves the room. I feel proper uneasy being alone in her den. The lion's den. I take advantage of the situation to snoop around. The living room I am in is probably not their living room. It seems like a conference hall with large couches and a massive coffee table sitting in the middle of the room. There are big wooden bookcases displayed on two of the four walls. It immediately attracts me.
The first thing I notice is the number of books that are aligned in front of me. From new to ancient ones, they are all separated by genre and authors. Their collection is vibrant with classics and various new rising talents. But what strikes me the most is how dirty the shelves are. There's dust all over these books, and the more I look, the more I get outraged until I see three old books that aren't. I reach to touch them and frown because of how odd they feel. I don't think they are books at all, maybe decoys or something.
I look around and try to hear if Kate is near or coming back, but I hear nothing. So I lean in and look closer at those three books. Why are they the only ones without dust? I let curiosity take over me. I try to see the titles of each, but the old age of the leather cover is worn out. The more I pay attention, the more I realise that something is wrong.
Just as I try to take one of the three books out, all three lean forward simultaneously. I don't have the time to question myself. I hear a small crack and a squeal. I immediately run to my seat, expecting Kate to be coming back. But the noise didn't come from her. I don't know where she went. Instead, I find one of the bookcases opening.
A secret passage?!
I hurry to the living room door, verifying nobody is coming and sneak to the secret entrance. All the lights turn on once the door is fully opened. It reveals a study with a massive wooden desk. Is it Kate's?
I quickly make my way inside, ensuring the door/bookcase won't close behind me and locks me inside. I take a book and put it on the floor against the door frame. Knowing fully well my time here is undetermined, I hurry. I know I am trespassing, but my curiosity sees this as a gold mine. I have to find out who's study this is.
I see a mess of paper on the desk. I don't even bother sitting down in the oversized rolling leather chair. My heart is pumping with adrenaline and stress. I feel my body getting a little bit chilly from the nerves. I run my fingers through the documents on the desk and stop myself when I see a signature. Kristofer Alexander.
Who the fuck is that?!
I decide to play it safe and return to the living room. I pick up the book I had put down and put it back in its place. I head to the couch and sit down. I immediately take out my phone and google the name. Since my research generates a lot of different men, I precise it with the title at the top of the letter he had signed. I was maybe expecting a LinkedIn profile or a Facebook profile, but I found a Wikipedia page.
"Kristofer Aron Alexander (born January 11th 1961) has been the CEO and founder of MATTER Industries since 1997. He was born in Iceland but moved to England when he was sixteen to study economics at Cambridge University.
In 2006, MATTER Industries expanded in the United States. Alexander moved part of his company to Manhattan, New York City, as an international branch. In 2010, his company also expanded in his hometown of Reykjavik, Iceland."
I stop reading when Kate pushes the door dramatically open. She has a manuscript in her hands and puts it in front of me, but I don't look at it. Something else catches my eye. I hear noises from the hall, and I see somebody sneaking out.
Blood freezes in my veins.
That's why the gate was open! She wasn't alone! But clearly, if he is leaving, she has better plans with me. What is she up to?
I give better attention to the man sneaking out, but I only recognise him when he looks inside the room we are in. I get relieved a second that it isn't Marcel, but the fuming arrogance on Paul's face disturbs me just as much as if it was Mace walking out of that house.
I was right! They are involved! But that realisation pains me instantly because that means Edith has been played with. It means Paul has probably been cheating on her... It makes me question if that's something I should tell her or not. Yes, I should, but will I? The door slams but not loud enough to distract Kate from what is happening between us.
"That's the real story. The first one he wrote, the better one, before he changed it when you started asking questions." She says as she takes a seat back where she initially was, arrogance still in her voice. What does she mean?
"Why would he do that?"
"That is a long story that you are too naive to understand."
"I am not naive."
"Oh, yes, you are, little thing. That's why it worked so perfectly."
"What worked?" I instantly ask her, panic getting over me to have been a part of her twisted game with him. What have I gotten myself into?!
Her smile widens, forming a smirk of pride and mischief. She looks so shockingly wicked and so elegant and sexy at the same time. It's sickening. Her composure is perfectly straight and calm as I feel troubled and I feel like a mess. I wasn't ready for what I was about to go through.
"You were the perfect pawn in my game." She says slowly, being so collected that it makes her words sound even eviler than they already are. "Marcel and I have been playing with each other for years now. I taught him everything he knows. How to act, how to talk, how to touch and how to fuck. He was so naive and gorgeous when he came to me after his father died."
"He was still a child. He was fifteen!" I yell back to her, remembering how young he was when he fell for her. He slept with her at sixteen on her wedding day. It revolts me that she has taken advantage of a minor that way and seems happy about it.
"Indeed he was, and that innocence is what I liked. Since then, he has been obsessed with me." She emphasises and ravishes the memories of what she is saying. "It got so intense, my husband had to call the police."
Since I met her, I knew I had to think through everything she said to me. I never trusted her, but that doesn't mean she is lying. What I do know, though, is that Marcel's record is clean from what my brother has told me this week. So even though it might have happened, nothing came of it. So I take everything with a grain of salt.
"Every time I tried to call it a day, he came back to me, begging me. He didn't care I was married. It excited him. Every time my husband was leaving the country, he was here. I've been everything to him, from a lover to his Dom, I was all that he could think about. That's what I wanted, and that's what I got."
"Why are you telling me all that?"
"Read the title of his story."
"Fallen?"
"The original one."
I don't have to read it out loud. I know what it means. Fallen Angel is the title of the book, and Fallen Angel is Kate's dungeon's name.
"All this bullshit his story has become was originally his love story to me, but in a very different way."
"How am I involved in all of this?!" I ask her, extremely annoyed with the situation I have put myself into. I don't want to hear all about their unhealthy relationship.
"You were a gift. You played a key part. When Edith had her medical leave, it was Marcel's opportunity to be the man of the company. He read every manuscript that was submitted, and when he found yours, I knew. You had such innocence in your writing. I convinced Marcel that you were going to be the subject of his book. He wasn't very keen on the idea. He thought you were an old lady reminiscing on her younger days. But I knew. I knew you were a young soul, ready to be corrupted. I wanted him to write a plot about how he charmed a random girl and made her wish things she couldn't even dream about, make her do things she couldn't even think about. It was so easy to fool you." She laughs, and all I want is to get the fuck out of here and cry.
But I stay because part of me is masochistic and wants to hear all of the stories. I want to know everything, even though it breaks my heart into pieces. Just when I had the utmost hope and belief in Marcel, it turns out our love was never real at all.
They played me like a fool.
I look down, fighting very hard to stay composed and calm, even though I am broken inside, holding back tears flooding my eyes. The pain is real. And that is the only thing I am sure is real right now. It turns out that my book was chosen not because Marcel believed in me but because Kate wanted a puppet.
"With your story, it was so easy for Marcel to be exactly what you wanted. You wanted a saviour, somebody to protect you. There he was. When he came to Manchester to help you move out of your flat, it was all planned. What wasn't planned was the kiss you gave him. He had to drive all the way back to London to see me because he didn't know what to do. I told him you had just made it so easy. You were already interested. I can't believe how easy it actually was. The trick was to make a scene. Even though he hated it, we knew nobody had ever given any fucks about you your whole life, and making a scene where you were the centre of attention would win you over. And it worked as well!"
She laughs as she tells her story as if I was the biggest tool of them all. She is amused by the pain she is making me feel right now. I feel so sick to my stomach, and I'm absolutely livid at the same time.
"I told him to do whatever it took to get you to bed. He is divine. I knew you wouldn't resist after that. And yet you did. But the closer he got to you, the farther he got from me. I guess now that you have broken up with him... I won." She smirks so devilishly, her hold on the arms of her chair is becoming firmer. She keeps her leg crossed over the other, her poise intact, revealing how wickedly evil she is.
She's a fucking psychopath! Or a psycho case, at the very least!
"And now that the book is done, it'll show Edith she has lost as well."
"And Paul? What was his part in all of this?"
"Paul? That's another I have wrapped around my fingers. We've known each other for years. We experimented a lot together in Uni. He had to get in Edith's head."
"And what's his motivation?"
"He had none. He had me. I'm enough of a motivation."
"And why would you do all of that? Why would you hurt and use people carelessly?" I ask her, my voice choking in my throat, tears breaking free from the hold I have forced throughout her speech.
"I'm not the careless one. Edith is!" She immediately reacts. I've poked the bear.
"Tell yourself what you want to sleep at night, but you are the wickedest woman I've ever met!"
"I'm wicked?! Oh please, little thing, Edith started it all! She fired me. She didn't see my talent or how much I worked. She was guided by her jealousy. She wasn't the only one grieving Andrew, and she threw me out like I was nothing in the company, like a worthless whore."
"That's exactly what you have become."
"That's what she made me become! I had nothing when she fired me. Paul was the only thing I had left. We started dreaming about leading our own publishing house. And I decided to play the vengeful game. I married the man pursuing me for years, but I'd always rejected because I was in love with Andrew. I used him for his money in hopes of someday coming back to her. Yes, I've used Marcel, and I've enjoyed every minute of it. And he did too, so there's nothing wrong with that. Because of me, he became an editor for your story, and he'll be managing the company. Then, I'll use my husband's money and buy the company from him because all it has done is bring Marcel hell. I have Paul to thank for that, putting thoughts of doubts into Edith's head. It has wonderfully worked. Until you came along."
I'm fuming with rage. I want to get up and jump on her to strangle her. I want to make her suffer the way she's made me suffer. Most of all, I'm stunned. I shouldn't have come here. And yet, now I know. I prefer the burn of the truth to the comfort of ignorance. Now, I see clearly. And without maybe even knowing, she has given me munition against her. I think she got caught in her pride and revealed it all to me. Perhaps Marcel is still too hung up on her to believe me, even if what he did disgusts me entirely, but Edith will. I think opening up to her in Edinburgh made her trust me more. I've definitely gained an ally out of her.
And I will tell her everything... tonight.