Stealing Cinderella(47)
Regardless, it would be selfish to confess such darkness to her now. It could only ever make her feel helpless in an already helpless situation. What I really want to say to her is that she’s given me the courage to do what I’ve always wanted. When she’s gone, I can go too.
“It’s nothing,” I assure her. “I just don’t like people to know about the therapy.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” She shakes her head. “But I won’t bring it up again. In fact, I’ll make a note of it, so I don’t forget. Now, could you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Go enjoy your night with Lavinia.”
I choke down all the reasons I can’t and nod. “I will.”
21
Ella
After waking up alone in Thorsen’s bed this morning, I wandered the house under the guise of exploring. But really, I wanted to see where he was and what he was doing. I only made it to the second level before Lisbet spotted me and firmly turned me around. She ushered me away from the closed door behind her, and it occurred to me that Thorsen must have been inside.
Had he told her to send me away, or was she just trying to look out for me? She seems so skittish, and I get the sense that she’s nervous around Thorsen. But now that I think about it, who isn’t? He comes off as cold and calloused, and I truly think that’s what he wants people to believe. But I know otherwise. I’ve seen glimpses of the man beneath. The man who ravaged me so passionately last night, the images will be forever burned into my mind.
There is a fire in Thorsen Lykken. He just wants everyone to believe it’s burned out.
As afternoon fades to evening, and Lisbet seems to disappear, I use the opportunity to resume my exploration. My goal is to find a computer or a phone, so I can contact Charlotte and do a google search for the name on Thorsen’s mysterious blue bottle. But as it turns out, there doesn’t seem to be a landline anywhere that I can see. Or a computer for that matter. At least not on the first level.
When I return to the second level, the house is so quiet it makes me a little nervous. If Thorsen catches me sneaking around like this, he’ll probably be furious. But he’s been gone for hours now, and I have to admit I’m a little curious about where he might be. Is it possible that he has someone else stashed away, and he visits her too?
I dismiss the notion as ridiculous and turn the doorknob that the housekeeper ushered me away from earlier. It isn’t locked, and when I step inside, I’m surprised to find an office. It’s darker, like his bedroom, and there’s a partially built model ship sitting on the wood desk. When I walk around and sit down in his chair, I can imagine him here, carefully examining the pieces as he puts them together. I lean back and take in the space, noting the details of Thor’s world. I have to admit that I’m hungry for this information. This intimate knowledge of a man who seems like such a mystery to so many.
His office has a few bookshelves, but most of the titles are in Norwegian, so I can’t be certain of what he likes to read. On the opposite wall, there are a couple of photos. One of him and his brother, and another of a woman who I know is his mother. She’s a beautiful woman, and I can see a lot of Calder in her. But Thorsen has darker features, which I presume he’s inherited from his father.
Apart from a plant and a filing cabinet, there’s nothing of much importance here. But I get the feeling he spends a lot of time in this room. This feels like his space.
To my disappointment, his desk drawers don’t seem to contain a lot other than the necessities. Pens, pencils, paperclips, staples. But in the middle drawer, I find a leather binder, and when I open it up, I think it’s a tablet, but it’s really just an electronic calendar. After fiddling with the buttons on the screen, I manage to translate the words into English. Suddenly, I find myself enrapt in the details, reading through a day in the life of a prince. Instead of starting with today, I click back a few pages, skimming through the meetings and tea appointments and sporting events he’s required to attend. There are so many, it’s difficult to keep track of, and I can’t even imagine how he goes from one thing to the next. But the thing that surprises me most is all the charitable endeavors he seems to participate in. Every week, there are at least three days dedicated to supporting his chosen charities. It’s so at odds with what the media says about him, and I have to wonder if they know this side, or if they simply choose to ignore it.
On the schedule for today, there’s a note that he has a meeting with Dr. Blom in the morning. And I recognize that name as one that appeared the week before too. Why would Thorsen need to see a doctor every week? It seems strange, but there aren’t any explanations typed in the boxes. Every week, it’s the same time. Nothing changes.
But it’s his agenda for this evening that has me really curious. It has the name Eugen Onegin typed out with Oslo Opera House below it. What would Thorsen be doing at the opera? And the more haunting question is… who is he with?
Absently, I click through the rest of the days in the coming weeks, looking for clues. But there aren’t any names, other than those of the public figures he meets with on a regular basis. Still, I keep clicking, all the way into next month until I see one square that stops me cold.
Return Ella.
That’s all it says. As if I’m just another item on his to-do list. But should I have expected anything else? This was the deal we made, right? So why does my throat feel so raw when I swallow? And why does it hurt worse than I ever could have imagined thinking of going back home to the only life I’ve ever known. Narcissa will probably turn me away before I can even step foot in the door.