Unknown POV
♦ ♦ ♦
The sweet smell of his cologne permeated the room, waking me more so than a hot cup of coffee would have. A small smile grew on my face as I moved toward him on the bed. I could feel the rhythmic beating of his heart as I wrapped an arm around his bare chest. Such rigidity and yet such charming poise.
His body shifted with the touch of mine, his sculpted person flexing and going stiff. His eyes opened to meet my own, one moment groggy and the next moment in some form of shock. I only smiled at him.
"Good morning, Handsome." I cooed.
"What time is it?" His deep, half-awake voice questioned.
I ran my hand along his chest, smiling all the while. "It's a little before ten, Sleepy. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so calm and peaceful, I thought...."
He did not let me finish my statement. In fact, he pushed himself from me and sat up firmly. "You need to get going." Emotionless was his tone.
I frowned and sat up as well. "Going? But darling...."
"That was not a optional request." His response and cut-off were cold and blunt, shaking me and breaking my spirits. But what was I to suppose he would be like, honestly? It was not like I had been paid to work the night, but it had not been a marriage proposal either. Nonetheless, he could have been a little more fragile with his words.
Without further conversation, he removed himself from the bed and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. I took that as my cue to grab my things and leave. There would be no further need for me. I could tell he was one of those who said hello, bought you a drink, and took you home and played nice before forgetting about you the next morning.
Personally, I was use to things like that, but the way he had been the night prior made me think he was a different kind of guy. But so much for hopes and aspirations. So much for chivalry and gentlemanly charm.
I quickly slipped back into my dress I had worn the night before and grabbed my few things. I heard the shower turn on and took that as my farewell. As I walked toward the door of the bedroom, I noticed a set of pictures of the dresser I had not seen earlier. Slight shock overtook me as I found the man had a wife and a child too. A truly licentious man. But why should I have felt bad? I was just as unfaithful.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Ella's POV
♦ ♦ ♦
I was starting to become nervous about this new venture. Perhaps it was merely my paranoid nature which had been nurtured by my tyrannical husband's iron fist. A two faced monster he was, and I was his slave enchained int he dungeon that was supposed to be a home.
My paranoia was heightening, as I stated, for reasons I felt uncertain of. But my uncertainty was becoming more and more clear as I reviewed the situation hourly. That man. That ghostly figure that had cool, grey eyes that searched past your own glistening orbs and pulled at your soul for your deepest secrets and innermost thoughts.
A shiver ran across me as I wondered if this mystical figure, this unreadable man, was a friend of my husbands and a spy to carry me back to my prison. My husband knew many men like those, the kind who could pull anything from someone at the snap of a finger. My husband was a man like that himself. And at one time I thought such a man was a dream, but now it was more of a nightmare than anything else.
"Momma, can we go out?" Arthur's little voice pulled me back into the present.
I saw him sitting cross-legged on the bed, swaying back and forth in the little nature that is quite customary for small children who become antsy in their sitting.
"We can go out, darling." I said after a moment. Slowly, I walked over to the bed to his side. I ran a hand through his soft hair, relishing in his youthfulness. "Never grow up, my little darling. Never lose your innocents."
Arthur stood suddenly, bouncing playfully on the bed. "I won't ever grow up! I won't ever never!" He squealed delightedly before racing for the door and stopping promptly once he had reached it. "Out now to play!" His fist raised to turn the knob, and I know he would have ran out again had I not bolted the door shut.
"We will go out, Arthur. Let Momma grab her purse first." I insisted, making my way to the end table to grab my small purse with what little money I had in it. With a sort of hesitation I made my way to the door and unlocked the thing, taking hold of Arthur by the back of his trousers so he would not speed off.
Once the door opened, I had to use every bit of strength to keep the child from running off, and in the end I simply had to carry him along in an effort to keep him in my line of sight.
As Arthur and I made our way toward the elevator, I noticed a rather melodic stream of music pouring from the door just across the hall from our room. The melodies were rather loud as they continued to flow down the long hall, reaching nearly in their full strength to the elevator doors.
The notes caught within my soul and tore into me with such violence that I was not sure I was fond of them at first. The way they were played sent chills up my spine, although not chills of fear but such shuddering that often accompanied an involuntary spasm brought on by something one did not expect.
It was peculiar such a reaction as this. Music was naturally known to stir the soul of many emotions, but this stirring was far greater than I knew could exist.
For a moment, I seemed to be taken away to a different place as the music swirled along with the air, floating loftily through the halls and to my ears. The dimension I fell within was unexplainable, and I was only tore from my distracted state by Arthur's whining tone that swallowed the music and dissolved it into white noise.
"OUT, MOMMA! OUT!" He pleaded, squirming in my arms.
I nodded, pressing the elevator button and stepping inside once the object had arrived. The music still tarried, however.
♦ ♦ ♦
The day was chilly and damp, but not as rainy as it had been the past day or so. Truly, time had left me. Whenever I had arrived, whether it had been a day or many days ago, I was no longer aware of. But I knew I was away from Him, and that was all that mattered.
Arthur was enjoying himself nevertheless. He was a carefree child now, and forever more I so hoped. His little legs kept him actively three feet ahead of me, which seemed still within a cautious distance.
However the music still rang through my ears. The flowing melody that seemed unending, repeating. The notes floated around the skull as if it were some sick poison or torturing device, and yet the notes were still peaceful and lulling.
A shiver ran across me as I thought over it all again. That stranger who appeared twice was more than a stranger to me, or so I had determined. Although it most likely meant nothing, it meant nearly everything to me. And I walked down the damp sidewalks of that unknown French town, I began to worry that it would not be long before the dictator who had held me in chains once would soon have his hand around my throat again.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Rhett's POV
♦ ♦ ♦
I was enraged, to say the least, that my wife believed she could leave at some point as if it were a permanent fix. It was if she believed that she could slack of her responsibilities to the house. Ignorant she was. Childish she spoke. It was as if her head was constantly filled with fairy-tales and mystical nonsense. What rubbish it was.
As I stood in my home parlor, I reflected the silence that was taunting my ears as the house remained hollow of children and childish adults. At first I believed it to be a blessing; but as I lived in it, breathed within the void estate that my parents had once owned, I began to feel more disheveled both physically and mentally.
It was not that the woman had control over my manners, but without her continuous upkeep I was becoming disoriented in my own mess of life. She had kept things up, and I needed her for that. She had been there to attend to me, and I most assuredly needed her for that. There were, of course, other things which she provided for me, but most importantly was her ability to upkeep and manage the things I had no time or desire to maintain.
As I continued to think on it, drink in hand, frustration lining my face, I began my mental list of actions which must be brought about in order to retrieve my wife from whatever fanciful place she had fallen into.
I would call one of my close acquaintances, a rather burly man with a half-disconnected jaw and scars to prove his ferocity. He had been a Navy spy at one point, only to be thrown out by some fictitious documents conjured up by some inside divergent. Rubbish it all was, but the man was keen. That was most certainly unmistakable. He could track down Ella, I was sure of it. Perhaps even talk some sense into the inane woman.
Then I would have the man bring Ella back. Kicking and screaming if he must, but she would return to me and my household. It was petty of her to think that I would just let her run off and not have someone fetch her. Fetch her. Yes, fetch as a master fetches a dog. That was the best example I do believe.
The grandfather clock against the west wall of the parlor struck the next hour, and I realized my time was slipping to find Ella. Knowing her, she knew that I would have someone after her and be well on her guard. I would catch her off guard, however. I always did. The man I would hire would never be seen, never heard, only a vapor - a phantom. He would slip in and out with her without another soul even realizing he was there. That would be the grandest part of all as he would so gently pluck her from her position and so quietly do so that it would almost be as if she never existed there.
I swirled the drink in my hand once more before finishing it and musing to myself of the genius that was running through my mind. I walked toward the parlor desk and took a seat, laying down my glass and picking up the telephone. I dialed the contact number and waited.
One ring...two rings...three rings....
"Ello?" A raspy, rough voice pierced through from the other end of the line.
"Maynor, it's Rhett Brewer. I have a job for you."
He chuckled a little. "Brewer, what the hell could you need?"
I smirked and leaned back in my chair. "I need you to track down my wife and bring her back home."
"Ella? Why the devil would she not be at home with you? Ain't you got her under lock and key?" Maynor half joked.
I only laughed.
"No but seriously, Brewer, where is the dame? I could probably get a hold of her for you if you give me a general direction to head."
"All I know is that she headed north, Maynor. Knowing her she stayed in France because the girl can barely stand to walk out past the front lawn without shaking and headed back inside." I replied.
"North. Still in France. I'll see what I can find out then. It'll take me a while, you know." Maynor went over his mental list of to-dos aloud.
I ran my finger along the rim of my glass. "That is fair. Just as long as you find her."
"And when I finder her, bring her home? Yeah?"
"Well, what you do in between there and home...I'll leave up to you." I grinned.
A small chuckle came from Maynor's end of the line. "Certainly, Brewer. Consider this one...on the house."
"Much appreciated, Maynor. Much appreciated. Stay in touch."
"Certainly."
CLICK.
The line went dead and all I could do was smile. Maynor would find Ella, and what happened after that was entirely none of my business. All I knew is that she would learn her lesson - she would not run from me again.