A Bedtime Story (25 page)

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he called out, his
voice cool.

She picked up her pace in response, and he could sense her
desperation to reach the door in her quick steps. He caught up to her in an instant,
pulled her arm, and turned her around.

With fury, she wrestled vainly out of his hold, keeping her head
down to hide her face. He pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand; with the
other, he lifted her chin, forcing her glistening eyes to meet his.

His eyes softened. This Laura, he couldn’t hurt. He exhaled deeply.
She still cared
.

“Why were you late?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes boring into
hers.

“Why were you fucking the help?” she snapped back bitterly.

A soft snort escaped his lips, sad and jaded at the same time.
“Answer me.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I was caught in traffic… Why do you
even care? You don’t care...”

“I don’t care… Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice
guarded, his expression indiscernible. “I married you. I killed for you. I risked
everything.
For
you
. I asked about you while I was away…
every
night
… Apparently, you were doing great. Shopping away, throwing parties…
Having a blast, it seems,” he threw bitterly. “Did you even once think about me? Or
were you too busy showing off your new wardrobe for other men to gawk at?”
Laura had felt her chest tighten at the beginning of his
confession, for a naïve moment thought this might be it. The moment they would let
it all drop, bitterness and pride, masks and old scars. That he would pave the way
for her terrified little heart to come clean as well. Today would not be the
day.

She chuckled just as bitterly. “I thought about you all right.
Should I have asked about you as well? And what should I have asked? Who you
interrogated? Had killed? Or been fucking?”

He let go of his grip, stung with the truth in her words. He looked
her up and down, his wife, his girl, and yet she would never be his. How he wished
she could have been more like Natasha, to understand his world, to accept it. But he
knew he wouldn’t have loved her any other way. The thought resonated within him,
coming as a revelation. He loved her.

“Laura…” He spoke her name softly.

His tone reached deep into her. She felt her heart tighten in her
chest, recognized the voice of her Kayne. She looked up at him, her eyes sad,
waiting.

The words choked in his throat. Even in love, or especially because
of it, Kayne Malkin wouldn’t expose his vulnerability. He had thought he wanted to
be her savior. Now he understood, even if he ever was, he would willingly want to
still be perceived as the villain.

Seeing he wouldn’t say anything else, she accepted his olive
branch. She smiled at him, a heavy, broken, and honest smile. In the silence that
followed, they continued to stare at each other, for the first time, with a
tenderness enveloping their gaze. The roles had been confused; they weren’t even
sure themselves who was executioner and who was victim anymore. The only truth that
now faced them was that they both suffered, that they both cared, knew it to be
hopeless, and hoped nonetheless.

G
enevieve lingered behind the door hoping
to eavesdrop on the aftermath of the interruption. She had expected the woman to
lose her cool the moment she faced her husband alone, to fall into a nervous heap of
tears and insecurity. For him to reassure her halfheartedly, apologize insincerely,
and give concessions begrudgingly. None of that had happened. It was not a
hysterical female voice that she overheard; it was an inflamed deep and manly one.
Why would the cheater lash out?
she wondered. She couldn’t understand
words through the closed doors but could still recognize the passion in his heated
arguments. It unnerved her further, only solidified her growing suspicion: Mrs.
Malkin was not your typical housewife or Mafia wife for that matter. She could tell
she was very young, barely a few years older than herself, she guessed. But there
was something about the way she carried herself, like she’d lived it all, knew it
all. There was some indiscernible quality, which made her look far beyond her years.
Genevieve hadn’t paid much attention to it before.

She was caught in her thoughts when Louis tugged her arm at night;
he urgently wanted to speak to her, seek her advice. She was in no mood, so much had
happened. She simply couldn’t focus her energy on anyone else. Louis knew of her
little selfish streak. She suspected it made him love her even more. Selfish people
were simply more desirable; it was a sad truth. One she understood at a young age,
ever since her estranged father rescheduled much-awaited getaways for last-minute
fishing trips, or whatever activity was better suited to his current mood. Her
mother was devoted, always available. She despised her, yet she adored her
father.

Kiev, whom she referred to mockingly as
Le Grognon
, came to
fetch her sometime in the late afternoon. “Boss wants to see you.” She felt a
tingle, quickly looked at herself in the mirror, and approved of the reflection
before following him out of her room.
He led her to the reception
hall. She smiled inwardly, recalling her session with her employer from the previous
night. She played with her hair, adding a little pop to her hips the moment they
stepped into the room. Her face immediately dropped at realizing it was not the boss
she had in mind.

Laura flashed Genevieve a radiant smile.

“Genevieve, come in. Please, have a seat.”

Unsure, and quite suspicious, Genevieve obeyed instructions. She
seated herself on the nearest chair, keeping her eyes fixed on the boss who had
summoned her.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“No… thank you,” she stammered.

“Tea, coffee, juice… water? Nothing at all?” Laura asked, a
suspicious kindness to her tone.

“Coffee… Let me get it. It’s my job,” Genevieve replied somewhat
bitterly. “What would you like, Mrs. Malkin?”

Laura chuckled. “Nonsense. Kiev, please bring us two mugs of
coffee, milk and sugar on the side.”

She turned her attention back to Genevieve once they were alone.
She took a seat facing her, crossed her legs, and, placing her hands on her knees,
sighed in a pleasant mood.

“So, Genevieve. Do you know why I hired you?”

Genevieve hated that feeling of awkwardness, like she was the butt
of a joke everyone was in on. She was off her game but was slowly regaining her
ground.

“Because I’m so pretty?” She mockingly guessed, her face conveying
her immature, petulant temperament.

Laura chuckled, her expression haughty. “Actually… yes.”

“Okay…” Genevieve mumbled, thrown off.

“You like seducing men, don’t you?” Laura inquired, an amused smile
on her face.

“Is this about your husband? He came on to me…” she
lied, lifting an eyebrow defiantly.

“How awful…” Laura smirked wickedly at the naïve girl in front of
her. For a moment she felt bad for her but then remembered the look on her face as
she walked in on her and Kayne, the vulgar arrogance with which she met her eyes.
“And you seem like such a
sweet innocent
girl…” she mockingly added a tsk-ing
sound.

“What do you want, Mrs. Malkin?” Genevieve put an end to the jabs
and pleasantries, all too aware of the trap being set by the woman facing her. She
hadn’t realized Kiev had walked back in and stood idly in the corner until Laura
waved him in. She handed her a mug and instructed her to drink before she resumed
their conversation.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I want from you anymore, Genevieve.
You’ve served your purpose.” For the first time, her face grew severe.

“You hired me to fuck your husband?” Genevieve asked, disbelieving.
“I think you’re
firing
me because of it.”

“Oh no. You’re not fired.” Laura’s honeyed reply was instant. Her
eyes gleamed with the same wickedness endured, then learned, from the man who had
single-handedly changed her destiny, down to the very core of her being.

Laura considered her young rival. From the moment she had laid her
eyes on Genevieve at the interview, she knew she would be perfect. A young Tanya, a
Tanya she could control and use for her own benefit. She would dangle her in front
of Kayne, because she needed to know the extent he could hurt her, betray her. He
could fuck all his whores while he was away. Would he also disgrace her in her own
house? The answer came too fast, and yet she understood it as retaliation from him,
a reaction, as unhealthy as they come, to his perceived rejection. She was sick of
playing games. She didn’t need to test him anymore. She knew what he was capable of,
everything
. Understanding his twisted logic didn’t make it any easier to
tolerate.

Late at night, she had tossed and turned in her
bed. She hated herself for what she’d become, hated him for what he could still stir
in her. Was there no line he would cross that she wouldn’t forgive? As long as he
was alive, he would hold this power over her. She had a thought, too terrible to
formulate, that was dismissed just as quickly as it sprang. She could never kill
Kayne, not out of a basic sense of right and wrong; those had long gone with the
wind.

As much as he hurt her, she was too aware of just how easily she
could hurt him as well. The broken mirror and his bleeding hand were not lost on
her. Even as he fucked the maid, it was all about her, and she knew it. There was
something terrifying, repugnant, and yet exhilarating about it all,
to hold sway
over a monster
.

“Mrs. Malkin? So you’re
not
firing me?” Genevieve asked
tentatively, snapping Laura out of her haze.

Laura shook her head. Her acquired facade of pompous superiority
faltered, her eyes revealing the hostility kept at bay. She could see Genevieve’s
eyelids drooping.

“A wise woman once advised me to keep my friends close, my
husband’s whores
closer…”

“Je ne comprends pas…” Genevieve mumbled more to herself.

“I say six feet under is better.” Laura’s hard face matched her icy
tone. She stood up as Genevieve’s movements became sloppy, her words slurred.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe...” Genevieve managed to utter as she fell
to the ground.

Laura stared coolly at her as Kiev approached and picked up the
body.

“Have you decided, Boss?”

She nodded. She’d wanted to have her sold, put her seductive skills
to good use. In an infinitesimal redeeming compassion, she changed her mind. “Make
it quick, and painless.”

***

It was almost ten at night. Laura was in a backless
silk nightgown, brushing her hair at the vanity in her room when she heard a gentle
knock on her door. Without awaiting permission, Kayne entered her room.

She only turned her head to greet him. “Hello…” she murmured in a
deep voice, more from nerves than seduction.

He nodded, his expression hard to read.

“And to what do I owe the honor?” She turned her face back to the
mirror and continued to brush her hair.

“Laura… what have you done with Genevieve?”

His face was serious, his tone grave, and yet she could swear she
glimpsed an imperceptible smirk in his question. She took a deep breath and turned
her entire body to him this time. “Tell me, Kayne, what would
you
have done
if you had walked in on me fucking another man in your house?”

His eyebrows shot up, his voice was soft as he uttered, “She was
just a kid…”

Her eyes shot him daggers. “Didn’t seem to have stopped
you
…” Her stare growing cold, she added, “Wouldn’t be worthy of calling
myself a
Malkin
had I spared her.”

The corner of his lips quirked up as he nodded a few times in
concession, and slight admiration. “Kiev?”

She nodded.

“Her friend, the blond one, he’s been badgering Olga all day. He
won’t believe she just quit and left without a word. She just came to see me about
it.”

Laura shrugged her shoulders, disinterested. “Have Kiev take care
of him too.”

Kayne furrowed his brows disapprovingly. “Laura!”

“Am I shocking you?
You
?” Her voice went shrill. “YOU! Of
all people. You made me this way…” Her voice cracked. In that moment, it all hit
her. She brought her hand to her mouth, in horror at the reality of her actions, of
the path she had embarked
on. “Oh my god… . Kayne... what have I
done? What have I done?” She broke down.

He stepped closer to her, pulling her to him. “You did what a true
Malkin would have done.” He looked her in the eye and asserted his undying devotion
to his wife, the only Malkin queen he’d ever known, the only one he deemed worthy to
carry his name. Her breathing slowed, her twisted features eased. She had just
killed someone, over him, over the man she had bartered her own soul for. He might
never love her, but she knew he would stand by her side no matter what. It made it
all worth it. She would meet him at the gates of Hades and never look back.

“What about the boy?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

“I’ll handle him.”

“Will you hurt him?” An echo of her kind heart worried.

“I’ll handle him,” he reiterated, closing the discussion. He would
face the consequences of her actions. He’d led her down the path of darkness, but
unlike him, there was still hope for Laura. There was no price he wouldn’t pay to
wash the blood off her hands. He would slaughter lion and lamb alike, let their
blood rain down on him to keep her coat white as snow. From hell his laughter would
echo all the way to the heavens he would have secured for her.

She nodded, relieved of her burden.

“To think all this would have been so easily avoided if you would
have just shown up on time.” His expression turned wicked all of a sudden. He leaned
into her ear. “You do realize I still have to punish you for your disobedience…
.”

She literally jumped out of his embrace.

How he loved toying with her, how he loved the flames in her eyes
that made her look wild, that sweet surrender he would always extract from her. The
serenity he found in her eyes in this moment would quiet his own chaos. She could
bring him peace with one glance, could ground him with it, and bind him to her with
just a kiss.

As he approached her, she stepped back, her eyes
fixed on him. She walked around him, cautiously making her way to the door. It
amused him.

“Do you really think you can outrun me? That there’s anywhere in
this house, on this earth, where you can be safe from me?”

She didn’t respond, kept walking backward toward the door.

He chuckled loudly, looking forward to the hunt. His eyes devilish,
he added, “Fine. I’ll even give you a five-second head start. Don’t let me catch
you,” he warned seductively.

She hadn’t meant to run, did not want to lower herself and display
such fear, but the moment she heard him count up, her legs snapped of their own
accord. Before she even knew it, she was sprinting down the hall. She felt him
catching up too soon, turned into the kitchen, and stopped behind the island.

She panted out of breath as he stopped nonchalantly on the other
side and stood casually facing her. She could see from his posture, from his smile,
the sadistic mood he was in, how the chase only ignited it further.

“Kayne…” she pleaded. “Please don’t do this. I beg you.” It hurt
her to beg. But she couldn’t handle any punishment he had in mind for her, not with
the emotional mayhem she was in.

He smiled, entertained; it was part of the game for him.

“Please… Master… I’m begging you… I don’t think I can handle it.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, baby,” he replied, his tone sinister.

She broke down and in utter despair wailed her final plea, “Kayne…
I’m begging you! Please! Haven’t you tortured me enough?”

His expression changed, his smirk disappeared as his eyes studied
her. She thought she succeeded, found a way to reach into him, to bypass the sadist
to her Kayne. She exhaled with relief.

He was calm when he addressed her, his voice soft. “Laura… You know
this is who I am. Must you act horrified every time? This is it. This is what you’ll
get from me. Always.”

Her whole world came crashing down. There were no
two Kaynes, no Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. It was his voice,
her Kayne
, who had
put into words her worst fears. She felt like in those horror movies where the hero
thinks he has finally escaped the nightmare in the end only to realize that it was
just another trick and that he was back exactly where he started. Then the credits
roll, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, a sickly feeling turning your stomach,
having just lived for the past two hours with the protagonist still caught in the
hellish loop.

Slowly, he took a step to the right. She took a step left. He
smirked, taking another step.

Her heart raced, she pleaded again, “Please, Kayne, please.” She
was weeping.

He stared back at her, his eyes intense and yet kind. It made her
heart melt. She felt weak in the knees. She wondered if she
wanted
him to
catch her.