Wishing Well(57)
Perhaps it was that mysterious thought that helped me make the decision to stay. I needed to know why I felt what I did around Maurice. Not the fear. Not the sorrow. Not the understanding that there was something broken in him that may never be fixed.
No. I wanted to know why I felt so attached to him every time our eyes met.
I would go to Vincent in the morning and let him know I was keeping the job, and I would spend enough time with Maurice to unravel the mystery of why he was affecting me in such an indelible way.
. . .
The next morning found me standing in Vincent’s office, the new distance between us palpable.
“I’ll keep the job,” I informed him, careful to hide what I was feeling. I knew him well enough to know that he could pick apart a person’s thoughts through body language or the tone of their voice. He’d always seemed psychic to me at first, but it wasn’t that Vincent could hear what was screaming in a person’s head, it was simply that he studied the people around him and paid close attention.
The leather of his chair creaked as he relaxed back to stare at me. “It’s good to see you’ve calmed down. And here I was thinking we’d find your room empty this morning. Why the change of heart?”
“I need the money. And since you’ve made it perfectly clear where my job security stands, I’ve decided having a roof over my head is better than life on the streets.”
“You’ve grown since coming here. The girl I remember meeting on the streets would have left, despite shooting herself in the foot for doing so.” A grin stretched his full lips. “And what of our arrangement?”
“That’s off.”
The light streaming in through the window must have flared funny, because for a moment I could have sworn I saw regret flicker across his face. He didn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to let my statement linger much longer than it should. “We’ll discuss that decision later.”
Eyes darting to the screen of his computer, he tapped a few keys. “You should go, Penelope. Maurice will be expecting his breakfast. He gets moody if he’s kept waiting.”
Unable to contain my anger at his simple brush off, his arrogant response that my decision could be discussed, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I mean it, Vincent. If I take this new job, our other arrangement is off.”
He didn’t bother to look at me. “That’s funny, because just yesterday you were on your knees sucking my cock. Women are fickle creatures, but their hearts don’t change so easily.”
If I’d been in reach of him, I would have slapped his handsome face. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll talk to you at another time. For now, you have a job to do. I suggest you do it.”
Dismissed, I left his office, angry at him but not angry for having an excuse to leave. Vincent thought he was waving off an annoying fly without understanding that the fly wanted nothing to do with him. Any discussions he thought we might have were off limits to the fly.
For the first time since coming to Wishing Well, the fly had pulled out her pretty silver scissors and snipped herself free of his tangled web.
Damn, it felt good to be a fly.
After grabbing Maurice’s breakfast from the kitchen, I slipped the elevator key from my pocket, tapped in the code and was on my way down to the basement. The doors slid open revealing the small entry lobby I remembered from the day before, except instead of fire sconces lighting my way, the small crystal chandeliers above my head were casting brilliant light, the black on black texture of the walls coming into focus. Turning left, I returned to the room where I’d found Maurice, only to discover it empty.
Not knowing what to do, I set the covered dish on the table, a jagged pulse beneath my skin to remember what had occurred there. Shaking off the memory, I left the room calling Maurice’s name as I explored.
Except for that one room, the rest of the basement was dark: the walls, the floors, the furniture, even the flowers. Dracula’s tomb would have been considered more festive in comparison to this depressing place. But for unrelenting darkness, there was also an odd tranquility, a respite from the bright opulence of Wishing Well, a taste of truth hidden beneath the ground.
Passing the entryway and the elevators I continued down the hall, my fingertips dragging along the textured walls, my voice becoming softer to enter an area I hadn’t seen before.
“Maurice?”
“Derrière toi .”
My heart leapt into my throat as I spun toward the low voice, Maurice’s palm slamming against my chest, pinning me to the hallway wall. Remaining still, I didn’t dare breathe as he leaned down, the tip of his nose sliding up the side of my neck. While my pulse was frenetic beneath my skin, his beat slow and sure, the sound of it a whisper against my ear from where my head reached his chest. I let several seconds pass before swallowing down my surprise and fear to speak to him as calmly as possible.
“It’s me, Maurice. Penny. From yesterday.”
His voice was smooth and deep. “I know who you are.” Fingers curling, he clutched my shirt.
“I-“ Breathe, Penny...just breathe. “I brought you breakfast.”
Maurice didn’t answer, the slide of his teeth sharp against the line of my jaw. It was impossible not to tremble, not to part my lips in an attempt to breathe deeper, to calm my racing heart. “It’s in the other room,” I whispered, “on the table where you had me leave it yesterday.”