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.
As we walked on, all eyes turned to my cheek. Some were looks of surprise and some were of disgust, because God forbid you get injured in the face of aristocracy. They quickly turned around and spoke again, this time their voices turned to whispers as they talked about me. In front of me sat Harrison in Tom's seat. He sat up and bowed for the Vicomte, "My lord, a pleasure to see you once again." "The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Osterfield. You've met Miss Webber?" the Vicomte nudged me forward and I shook hands with Harrison. You bet your ass I've met this man, I thought, the stitches on my face remember him quite fondly. "Please," I smiled as fakely as he did, "Call me Reese. Miss Webber is my mother."
We broke the handshake and I was glad we did. Harrison gripped my hand tightly, as if he were about to break it. How many more injuries could I sustain from this man in a day? "Reese, then. How are you liking Thackeray so far?" I hated that he called me Reese. I hated that's what Tom chose as my alias, that was his name for me. It was our thing, and now it was passed around on the lips of liars and traitors. I looked in Harrison's eyes and saw the mischief behind them. I saw his intentions, his slyness, and I hated it. He didn't look like a sociopath to anybody else but me.
Giving him a brief smile and I nodded my head, "It's a gorgeous event. I wish I could be invited here more often." "And how were you invited to this?" Harrison asked and I wanted to punch the shit out of him. Of course he wanted me to blow my cover, he wanted me to falter. It was unfortunate that I've taken after the best liars in the world. "I have friends in high places, I guess you could say. My brother is well acquainted with a founding member of the gala," my smile became wider as his faltered. It was subtle, but noticeable enough for me. "Well then," he said, "I expect you'll be invited again with those connections. Have a lovely night, Miss Reese." He left Tom's seat and was supplanted with the man himself.
Tom gave a brief nod to the Vicomte and Gregory, calling them each by name. It was a sign of disrespect and respect at the same time. There was a fire lit behind each of the men's eyes, each burning a different color, but with the same motivations: murder. Tom's eyes met with mine and I felt a tug in my heart strings. Just hours ago he was yelling at me to get on the plane home and here I was, sitting across from him. "And what of the Lady de Toure?" Tom asked, "I don't recall her being this young." I faced the Vicomte, who turned pale, but he remained stoic. He gave a hearty laugh like the one from the night before and wrapped his arm around my waist, almost like I was bound to him now. "The Lady de Toure knows my infidelity is strictly business," the Vicomte said, "Unlike yours, Holland."
Tom chuckled and picked up a champagne flute and sipped from it. "You got me there, my Lord," he said, "Maybe that's why I don't have a beautiful lady like this one at my side." He pointed the glass at my and though I kept a straight face, I couldn't help but find immense jubilance from the sentence. The Vicomte and Tom ended their conversation and we all took our seats.
The Vicomte or Gregory didn't speak to me at all this time. Instead, they spoke to the people beside them and I was left to my own devices. I picked up my champagne flute and drank out of it multiple times as a fidgeting device. If I couldn't figure anything to do with myself, I would pick up the flute and sip from it, even if it was empty. My mind was roaming, mulling over the events from the past hour. I felt a hand grasp my thigh and I looked down and saw the Vicomte's hand.
He was still talking to the people beside him, but he gave my thigh a few squeezes and I swallowed the rising bile in my throat. I was letting this happen and for what? I could refuse him, take his hand off of me but would he do? He was a man of high power and with dangerous connections. If I refuse this small action, will I pay for it with something worse? So, I kept his hand on my thigh, hating the way his touch felt.
"Excuse me," Tom's voice broke my thoughts. Apparently, it also took many of the guests out of their conversations. Was he really that powerful? I looked at the Vicomte who was still talking to his peer when Tom spoke again. "I'm addressing you, Miss," he said and I faced him, confusion taking over me. I had no idea what this was about or what he would do, hell, I didn't even know what was going to happen tonight during the ball.
I faced him and waited for him to speak again, and he scoffed. "I assume you're not a mute, so please speak." I nodded and cleared my throat before speaking, "Yes, Mr. Holland?" "Mr. Holland. I quite like how you say that," he smirked, "Maybe I can take you away from the Vicomte for tonight." Giving another weak laugh, I shrugged, "I've yet to be impressed by you." Though it was my character saying it, I felt oddly free. They were words my past self could have never said. Tom clenched his fist as I said that and by then the Vicomte joined the conversation, laughing at my remark. "Your charms don't affect everyone, Holland," the Vicomte said, giving my thigh another squeeze, sending another fit of anxiety through my nervous system.
"Don't be riled up, my Lord. I'm only trying to make conversation," Tom tilted his head to the left and gave a smug smile, "Now tell me, how did you receive that nasty injury?" "She fell," the Vicomte snapped before I could open my mouth, "She's not yours, Holland, fuck off." With that came a collective silence. I didn't know if it was from the Vicomte saying fuck or the tension between the two, but everyone now paid attention. "Last I recall, it's the twenty-first century, Vicomte. She's not anybody's," Tom sipped from the champagne flute and I noticed it was empty as well.
"Don't give me that bullshit!" the Vicomte's voice was raising and his grip on my thigh grew tighter, "You are a monster when it comes to women. They die before they reach twenty-five." Tom's expression changed then, from playful to dark. The Vicomte hit a chord, a fatal mistake. "You better choose your next words kindly, de Toure," he said through gritted teeth, "Or I'll show you that my respect for royalty has limits."
The Vicomte's nails dug in my leg and I couldn't help but cry out. I became the center of attention once again and Tom cocked his head to the side. "It seems now that you're the one to treat women horribly, Vicomte." The Vicomte was silent before he looked at Gregory and nodded. My legs went numb. Oh shit, I began to panic, this was it. Gregory then shouted an order in a different language and there was a gunshot. The aristocrats from the table jumped up and screamed, running around, crying for help. In front of me, Tom and Harrison slumped over and once again the bile rose in my throat. This time, I couldn't contain the tears from falling. They stung my cheek, but I was apathetic towards my own pain. Were we too late? Was it all so simple, to have Tom and Harrison die?
Beside me, the Vicomte breathed a sigh of relief before starting to eat his dinner. He took his hand from my thigh to grab a knife to cut the steak. "Thank you, Gregory," he said and Gregory nodded. The Vicomte eyed me suspiciously, watching as I sat stark still and not running like everyone else. "You're used to violence," he said, stroking my face once again. This time I garnered the courage to slap his hand away, breaking into sobs. It wasn't me reacting however, it was my body. I couldn't control it. I should've left, I should've went home.
"Don't weep for him," he continued to chew his steak, "Cry about something that holds more meaning." I looked at Tom's body and wiped my eyes, makeup staining my hands. I stared at his closed eyes and then at Harrison's open ones. I saw the blood trickle from Harrison's mouth, but no such thing from Tom. His mouth wasn't even open. It was then I saw his chest rise and fall slightly. There was nothing more that I wanted to do except laugh. I wanted to smile and laugh like a madman, but I still had a character to play. "I'm," I started, sniffling my nose and wiping my eyes one final time, "I'm not weeping for him."
The Vicomte was only able to nod before another gunshot rang through the building and he was shot in the back of the head. My dress now turned red and blood soaked my face. I couldn't even register my surprise when another shot rang out and Gregory slumped over too, giving me a second coating of blood. "Jesus fuck," I said to myself, grabbing a clean napkin and wiping the blood from my cheek, hoping to God I didn't infect myself.
The dinner table was now a graveyard. I stood up from my chair and turned around, looking for the shooter. On the balcony of the dining hall, I saw the barrel of a sniper rifle and behind the weapon was a man clad in black. However, it didn't take a genius to know that it was Jacob behind the trigger. Despite the threat of my stitches ripping, I beamed. I felt psychotic that I could find happiness in the violence and madness. I felt horrible knowing that people died for my safety. But all I could do was smile, my job was done. I could go home.
I felt two arms wrap around my waist and pull me to their chest. "Bravo, Reese," Tom whispered in my ear, "Bravo." I turned around and faced him, melting internally at his warming smile. Whether it was from the satisfaction of the job well done or because he truly felt something for me, I didn't care. I embraced him tightly, not caring about the blood I would get on his suit and I began to cry. My emotions were wired for chaos, I couldn't choose between panicking and laughing. Tom shushed me and pet my hair, swaying me slightly as if we were dancing. "It's alright now," he said quietly, "You're alright." It was a questionable statement, but I let myself believe it for the time being.
Hooray, 1K!!! I usually don't hit 1K until a month after the story's finished but here we are, so thank you to those who have found this story and continue to read, vote, and comment. I check my notifs almost every day and I love seeing your comments and interactions with my stories so thank you!
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~Not edited~