Destined to Play, Feel, Fly Trilogy (32 page)

Through all those hours when I was crunched up in that suitcase, I had honestly imagined that my destination would see me thrown into a skanky cell, locked behind bars, lying on damp, concrete floors with only a bucket for company. This just doesn’t make sense, dressed up in a cream ball gown and high heels, and two butler-cum-bouncers waiting to escort me to dinner with Madame, whoever the hell she is. Even though this situation proves to be more comfortable physically than I had imagined, it is the emotional consequences that seem to be creating my extreme discomfort. Stockholm syndrome penetrates my scattered thoughts and I give myself a harsh reminder of my commitment not to speak. It is with that conclusion that I am able to take my first step towards the door, bypassing the butler-bouncers, ignoring an outstretched elbow — I don’t want to touch them and certainly don’t want them touching any part of me.

As I stride towards the door, I sure hope I’m looking more confident than I feel, and I wonder what on earth could be waiting for me on the other side. Frederic stands back to let me pass which surprises me as I have no idea where to go. Louis whisks past me so fast my dress swishes around my legs as if I’m standing in a gentle breeze.

‘Please follow me, Dr Blake.’ He starts off at a rapid pace down a long, carpeted corridor. I turn to look at Frederic, who extends his arm to invite me to continue, confirming my options are limited to one way — forward. I glance back into the room to see the doctor repacking his equipment in his small black case. As he completes his task, he looks up towards me.

‘
Bonsoir
, Dr Blake.’

Once again, I have to catch myself from answering ‘
Bonsoir
’ back to this perplexing man.

‘Enjoy your dinner, I have no doubt you will feel better after some food.’

I quickly turn my head away, resigned to the fact the bouncer behind me is less than patiently waiting for me to be on my way. The vision before me mentally transforms into a horizontal version of Alice and the rabbit hole. As nerves get the better of me, all I can think is, ‘Oh fuck, here we go again!’ And I really don’t like to swear very often unless it’s absolutely necessary.

After walking along what feels like the longest corridor that I have ever experienced, we eventually turn into what seems like a great hall. I take a tentative step onto a parquet wooden floor that enables me to hear as well as feel my legs as my steps clatter nervously forward.

Louis is setting quite a pace, so I focus on the task of following close behind him as we pass beneath an enormous chandelier and subtle stained glass windows. Towards the end of the great hall are two enormous wooden doors, which when closed make an elaborate arch. I lift the front of my dress slightly so I don’t trip over it. As we stride across the superbly polished floor, the dress wafts behind me. There are two guards standing on either side of the massive doors and I am intrigued as to the history of their ornate uniforms.

As I continue to stare and stride, I almost smash straight into Louis and step back in the nick of time to avoid a collision. It takes a very concentrated effort on my part to not let out an, ‘Oh, sorry’. I gather myself quickly. They both stand either side of me, Louis only slightly taller than me, in my heels, and Fred (I decide the more Australian version of his name makes this whole situation less ominous in my mind) towering over me, the top of my head barely reaching his shoulder. We are standing rigid in front of the great doors before us. What am I walking into here? I wonder fleetingly if it would be easier to faint, but I look toward the guards and feel the presence of the butler-bouncers either side of me and decide that wouldn’t be such a good idea.

Louis nods toward one of the costumed guards, who then turns to a piece of technology I hadn’t noticed. He mumbles something into it I can’t hear and enters a code, which seems to take some time. My heart pounds frantically in my chest and my hands are twisting anxiously in front of me, as we stand waiting. I tentatively glance behind me, more to absorb my surrounds than anything else. Louis and Fred immediately close in on me and take a slight step backwards to block my view. Tension builds within my belly. Now the only thing I can see behind me is the black and white of their butler uniforms.

As I turn back towards the doors, they slowly swing inwards, allowing me to feast on the vision before my eyes. I’m overwhelmed by gold and crystal and paintings, enormous paintings that belong in museums and churches. Good god, what is this all about? The sheer opulence is astounding. I’m nudged along by the butler-bouncers until I eventually step unassisted into another great room — I have no idea what its proper name would be. There is too much to take in, I just stand in awe of this place. Why am I here? Who owns this? I fleetingly think of Jeremy and the consequences of me asking questions. I still remember the tantalising sting across my arse and the overwhelming pleasure that came after, over and over again. My head starts to spin with the memory. Oh no, I scold myself, please no, not again, not here. I feel warmth swell in my groin, steadily and determinedly heating my sexual parts. After all I have been through, how can I still have these sensations cascading through my body? Oh please, no.

Too late, the ambushing rhythm sets itself in motion as if it has finally been granted permission to release itself after being on hold for so long and I find myself leaning against an antique chair, holding myself up, desperately trying to maintain physical balance and mental perspective. Oh god! The rhythm continues to course through me as my body remembers the exquisite pain of the lashes and the delicious aftermath that followed. The feelings linked to the memory threaten to overwhelm me as I try to catch my breath and my knees begin to buckle. Heat and desire pool between my thighs and I feel as if my temperature is rising as it spreads to my nipples and my behind, perspiration beading on my forehead as I bow my head to accommodate the shallow breaths that escape me. How can this still happen so quickly, so automatically? My mind commences its descent into oblivion as my sensate body overrides everything else. I start to tremor as my body writhes in pleasure. The problem is I love this feeling, but it just can’t happen now — not here. Control yourself, you weak woman. Get your act together —
immediately
.

I inhale deeply, knowing that my brain needs oxygen to focus, and that finally helps to bring me some relief. I inhale again as I realise my head is bent between my arms and I’m clinging to the chair in front of me. I feel a light sheen on my face that I know from experience will be accompanied by a deep blush. Oh dear me! How could I? It takes a minute or two before I am composed enough to maintain a standing position, albeit with my hand still gripping the chair for balance. Deeply embarrassed, I quickly glance towards Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum who are staring at me unabashed, disbelieving of what they just saw. Oh shit!

‘Well, well, well, Dr Blake. Welcome! I must say, that was quite an entrance!’

I hear the female voice from the other side of the room. It’s unnerving to say the least. I focus my eyes towards the voice and the attached body comes into my line of sight.

‘Please, perhaps you should take a seat in order to fully recover from your, what shall we say, episode?’

I don’t know what to make of this woman nor her words as she gestures toward a set of ornate lounges to my left. She, too, is dressed in a full-length gown, of pale gold chiffon — no wonder I hadn’t noticed her in the room when I entered, as she blends in perfectly with the gold and crystal, enhancing the majesty of this room. She elegantly adjusts her gown to accommodate her now seated position. My breath is still weak from my ‘episode’ and I wish I had a tissue to wipe my forehead. At that precise moment, Louis offers me a handkerchief from his pocket. I take it ungraciously from his hands, pat my face quickly and hand it straight back to him. He accepts it with a bemused look on his face, placing it back in his coat pocket. He then places his hand on the small of my back and motions me forward towards Madame Goldy. I stare at both bouncers, before whisking up my dress and less than elegantly taking a seat on the lounge opposite her.

‘Dr Blake, shall we start over?’ She doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. ‘Once again, welcome to Chateau Vilamonte,’ she states proudly and warmly. Is she serious?

‘It is our sincere pleasure to have you here with us.’ Her voice is low and has a slight accent. It is as if she is welcoming an invited guest. I stare at her aghast. ‘I trust the rather unfortunate circumstances of your arrival are now behind you and you are feeling refreshed and revived?’ She raises an eyebrow. I notice the slightest of glint of amusement in her eye as I realise she is enjoying this charade. It takes all my energy to recommit to my vow of being mute. Am I making the right decision? I’m not sure but resolve that it can’t hurt in the short-term. At least until I understand what is going on and why I’m here.

‘My name is Madame Madeleine de Jurilique.’ She pauses as if this announcement should be of significance to me. I would dearly love to assure her it isn’t. ‘I am the European Managing Director of Xsade Pharmaceuticals.’

More like the Managing Director of Kidnap and Abduction, I think to myself viciously. I can only hope that she can’t read my thoughts on my face as I continue to maintain ‘nonchalant’ eye contact with Madame Goldy.

‘I am assuming you understand why you are here?’ She tilts her head to one side in anticipation of my answer.

No, actually I don’t and I’m really, really trying not to let my mind explore this question further as I’m sure it would elicit questions from the mouth which I want to keep firmly shut. I continue my silence and attempt to assume a vague, blank mask on my face.

‘So this is how you want to play? Silence,
oui
?’ Ah, finally she understands. ‘
D’accord
. So be it. You can listen to my proposition over dinner and consider your options overnight.’

Her last comment sparks my interest — options, I have options? She catches my slight head movement in recognition of her words and I mentally kick myself that I’m not better at ensuring my feelings aren’t reflected in my facial movements. Damn.

She carefully rises from her seated position and slowly glides across to the head of the dining table, which could seat perhaps thirty people but has only been set for two. Excellent, I think sarcastically to myself. Two large hands grasp both my elbows as I am firmly guided to the dining table. The additional place setting is in the middle of the table where my two bodyguards stand either side of the chair, waiting patiently for me to be seated. This whole situation is becoming more insane by the minute.

Goldy looks more than comfortable in the silence of our elegant surrounds. There is a calm gracefulness about her demeanour that I find quite disconcerting. Our entrées arrive simultaneously and my stomach growls in anticipation of being fed. I thought I’d be feeling too emotionally overwrought to eat, but I surprise myself by polishing off every morsel of the smoked salmon salad in record time. Madame seems pleased with my appetite. I grimace at her smile and distract myself by dabbing the sides of my mouth lightly with my serviette. I haven’t touched the glass of champagne sitting before me as drinking it would just conjure too many of the memories that threaten to overwhelm me. I wait until I see the wine being poured from the same bottle Madame is drinking from and decide at least that it would be a safer, non-spiked option. It is fresh, dry and has a delicious bouquet, just as you would expect from good French wine. Its taste momentarily distracts me from my circumstance.

Main course is delivered — succulent duck à l’orange with assorted veggies — and still we continue to sit, chewing in silence. This is just too weird, but I’m thankful I can focus on eating dinner without interruption and it helps keep my anxiety in check. We finish our last bites at the same time. After swallowing another mouthful of wine, I look in Goldy’s direction to assess her body language in an attempt to ascertain what on earth she wants with me. She looks just as deliberately at me for a long moment before nodding briefly. This results in one of the guards disappearing momentarily and returning to the table with a document of some sort. With a quick flick of her finger she signals for the document to be placed just out of arm’s reach from where I am sitting.

‘I hope you enjoyed your meal, Dr Blake, it seems you haven’t lost your appetite, which is very encouraging.’

I stare toward my glass of wine as I absentmindedly fondle the smooth stem of the crystal glass, observing the changes in colour as it refracts the light.

‘The document beside you is a contract my company would like you to consider very carefully. We don’t mean you any harm, Dr Blake, and we hope we can anticipate your cooperation.’

Well, well, here we go…

‘I would like to present you with an extraordinary opportunity, related to your recent studies with Dr Quinn. You must have been exceptionally impressed with the results he presented, based on your case study, last week in Zurich.’

What the —? He presented findings in Zurich that I don’t even know about? How could he? He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to me without my knowledge. Would he? As I sit silently, attempting to quell the emotional ambush of his words, Madame Goldy doesn’t miss a trick.

‘It seems as though this is perhaps a shock to you, Dr Blake. You’re not telling me that the great Quinn neglected to copy you in on his results,
non
?’

Beads of sweat form on my forehead and my palms moisten at the insinuation. He would never do that to me, she’s goading me to speak. I straighten my shoulders, fasten my eyes on the almost naked Renaissance women featured on the artwork on the opposite side of the room and inhale deeply in an attempt to lock her out and maintain some form of composure. I’m not sure that it works but it’s worth a try.

‘Surely he would inform you of such a significant document?’

Control and composure, Alexa. I do remember he sent me an email about doing some presentations in Europe but not specifically about
what
he was presenting. Keep silent. She’s obviously desperate for a reaction and I desperately don’t want to give her one — which is becoming an increasingly impossible task.