Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel) (2 page)

BOOK: Innocently Evil (A Kitty Bloom Novel)
2.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

In an instant, Max dropped his almost predatory look and stalked around me to lean casually against the arm of the nearest lounge chair.
“And what, may I ask, has brought little Miss Kitty to my private room all on her own,” Max purred.

Raising the towel back to his hair, he
scrubbed at the dampness one final time, giving me a cheeky grin all the while. Then, he slung the towel over his shoulders, around his neck and waited for my answer.

“B-boredom,” I stuttered, still trying hard to avoid looking at how naked he was.

Max raised an eyebrow at me and crossed muscular arms over his chest. “I very much doubt that,” he smirked. “I think you play innocent too well, Kitty. You of all people must know the history of curiosity and cats.”

Now, it was my turn to raise an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. Wh
at the hell did he mean by that? And how was I playing innocent? I was starting to realize that Max’s gorgeous looks may have been a little deceiving.

I forced a small smile and answered through gritted teeth.
“Sorry Max, but I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. I was taking a walk because I was bored and that was it. It was a mistake to come in here, and now I think it’s time I go. Nice to meet you. See you round.”

I
turned to leave and was about to hit the button to open the connecting doors to the next carriage, when Max’s hand snatched mine away. “Hey,” I protested as he pulled me over to the daybed.

He spun me around and somehow got me to take a seat before
I could protest again. Max dropped my hand and remained standing in front of me. “I hadn’t meant to cause offence, Kitty,” he said softy. “I thought you knew I was on board and come looking for me. But, I can see now that I was wrong. You don’t remember me.”

Remember him? How could
I possibly remember him? His strange comments were playing mischief with my mind and I couldn’t seem to understand why someone I’d clearly never met was acting as though we had. I moved to stand up, hoping to make another go for the exit. I didn’t feel like hanging around in Max’s company any longer.

“No, please s
tay,” Max said almost with concern as he pushed me back down on the seat. “Let me fix this mess. This wasn’t exactly the way I would have liked us to meet again after all these years.”

“I don’t know wha
t you’re talking about,” I said. “We’ve never met before. I think I should go. Besides, shouldn’t you get dressed?” I said the last with a raised eyebrow as I looked him up and down.

Suddenly, he appeared changed by my comment, as though some of his ego had faded and he became almost self-
conscious of his appearance. With a somewhat disappointed frown, he looked down at me with serious, nearly desperate eyes. And I felt an overwhelming urge to stay with him.

“Please, Kitty. Let me go get changed and come back to talk to you properly. I will tell you everything, just please stay.”

I pouted as I considered my options, glancing around the room in thought, and then looked back up into Max’s eyes. “Okay,” I said, feeling a little like I’d just agreed to something much more important than a chat.

              Max’s eyes lit up, he grinned at me and then started striding backwards towards the bathroom. “I’ll be five minutes,” he said, then turned and ran for the bathroom door.

Once Max had disappeared, I had a strange feeling that
I shouldn’t have agreed to stay. The room was different without him and it was making me nervous. For some reason, I’d felt compelled to stay with him when he was in the room, but now my practical mind seemed to be screaming at me to make a run for it.

I was up and heading towards the connecting doors again just as Max, now fully dressed, ran back into the room.

“Wait,” he called to me.

I paused and glanced back at him, but my gut still told me to leave. I shook my head and went for the button.

“Please,” Max said again. “If I can say only one thing to you before you leave then let it be happy birthday. It is your eighteenth today, isn’t it?”

My finger stopped by the button and
I turned around again. “Yes,” I answered.

Max walked towards me with a hand slightly outstretched.
“Then, I have a gift for you.”

In his palm was a little, black box, the kind that
jewelers put your purchases in. He took the final steps towards me, until he was almost too close and had me cornered against the door. I caught a hint of his cologne and he smelled good. My body seemed to relax at his closeness and a little of my anxiety began to fade. I finally noticed his clothes. His elegant white button-up shirt and black tuxedo slacks were both done up in haste. He’d only managed to get a few shirt buttons buttoned with his time limit and his pants sat lower than they should have. I looked down at his bare feet and then back up at his face. His wide eyes and clenched jaw showed his worry. I thought it strange that he should ever worry about rejection. And who was I to reject a gift on my birthday.

“You shouldn’t have,” I said.
“How could you possibly have known?”

Max moved his hand closer to me and gave me a saddened smile.
“I have much to tell you, Kitty. If only you’d let me.”

Still confused by his words and finding it hard to focus on the intensity of his eyes, I pushed my gaze back down to the box. Taking it from his palm onto mine, I
lifted off the lid. Inside was a circular pendant on a long silver chain. I’d never seen anything like it before. In the centre of the pendant was a pearl collared circle, with several small lines neatly severing it into what appeared to be the phases of the moon. Then, along the circumference of the pearl, in silver, ran an intricately carved pack of wolves. It looked so expensive – an heirloom maybe – I knew I shouldn’t accept it.

“Thank you,” I said, never taking my eyes off the pendant
. “It’s magnificent.”

“If,” Max began slowly, “you would do me the
honor, I wish you to wear it.” Without my answer, Max’s fingers slipped into the box and he carefully lifted the pendant out by its chain. He undid the clasp and moved in close to me. His fingertips grazed my collarbone as he brought the ends of the chain together.

I arched my neck to the side when his cheek brushed past mine as he looked to do up
the clasp. Closing my eyes, I felt almost frozen. Half of me was screaming to escape and the other half would have gladly followed any orders given. I shook my head slightly in confusion, then licked my lips and opened my eyes. I straightened my head a little as I felt Max begin to move back.

His face brushed past mine again and
I got goose bumps. When he was looking into my eyes once more, he felt so much closer. He looked down at the necklace and I could feel his hands slide from my neck, down the chain, and then stop at the pendant. “There,” Max said. “Very beautiful indeed.” His amber eyes came back to mine and I felt a little like a deer in headlights.

For some reason words weren’t forming sentences in my mind. Max smiled at me and seemed to move in closer again.

I jarred my head back and swallowed. “I should go,” I said, drawing on courage from screaming instinct.

Max leaned back and frowned.
“Will you promise me that we will continue our discussion sometime in Saint Jean? Or shall I make arrangements to come find you?”

I wasn’t certain which
suggestion was the lesser evil. Both sounded as though they would alter the course of the earth, or at least my place in it. “I promise to find you,” I said, feeling very tempted to cross my fingers behind my back.

Almost as though he sensed my caution, Max gave me a firmer stare. I smiled and hoped that I looked more innocent than scared.

“Then I shall see you soon, Kitty Bloom,” said Max. “And we shall discuss a little of our family history.” His seriousness seemed to turn light hearted at that and again he gave me a smile.

“Right,” I said slowly, worried
that it wasn’t the right answer. “Thanks again for the gift.” I began to turn to face the door and thankfully Max stepped back to let me. I pressed the button to open the connecting doors and gave him one last look.

He was still smiling, all seriousness gone.
“Pleasant days and peaceful nights until we meet again,” Max said.

The doors to the next carriage burst open and relief overwhelmed me at the thought of freedom.

“Yes,” I said. “Bye then.” I stepped out of Max’s train carriage without another thought and refused to let myself look back until I was safely in my own carriage.

All was well.
He hadn’t followed me. I found Mum still asleep in her chair and I sat down next to her. My mind raced wildly with one conflicting thought after another. I was so confused it was starting to give me a headache. I closed my eyes and before I knew it, I was drifting through the deepest of sleeps, seeing only amber eyes and full moon pendants spinning through my dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two: The Golden Haired Boy

 

I woke up to the sound of a train horn and a pat on the knee from my mum.
“We’re here,” she said, but here wasn’t Saint Jean.

The train had come to a stop at the main station in Cannes and was waiting, by the sound of the horn, impatiently for us to disembark and head aboard our connecting bus. I looked out the window at all the people scurrying off the carriages and onto the platform, hurrying to be the first to collect their baggage and continue their journey to
Hell only cares where.

“Come on
, Kitty cat,” said Mum. “Open those eyes wide and stretch those claws, it’s time to brush off your cat nap and prepare for a new adventure.”

“Ha ha,” I said, sarcastically.
Then, obediently, I snatched up my bag and jacket, and followed Mum to the exit.

After a quick glance at all our luggage dumped unhappily by the side of the train, we decided to kidnap a porter from the information desk for a little
extra muscle. Once all our things had been transferred from the platform into the bus’ insides, it was time to finish the final leg of the journey. Or so we thought.

 

“There’s more,” I said incredulously as I switched off my MP3 player and took out my earphones.

We’d just travelled uphill for the past hour and a bit, driving past million-dollar mansions and resorts in Cannes, and more recently little French country cottages and mysterious hill-side villages. But, apparently there was more, and it was all uphill.

“The buses can’t go up there, honey, the roads are too narrow,” said Mum, trying to be understanding and reasonable for the both of us. 

I looked out the bus window at the steep hill we had to climb before we could gain entry in
to Saint Jean. It was almost seven in the evening and everything was beginning to glow warm with the colors of sunset. Still, I couldn’t help but be happy that we weren’t lugging all our belongings up the hill in total darkness.

From what I could see of Saint Jean it looked like a fortress. A huge stone wall encased the city,
most likely built to keep medieval armies out, though my morbid imagination could also see their usefulness at keeping something in. At the centre of Saint Jean was a huge bell tower that rose high into the sky and seemed to me to peer ominously down at the city and its people. As my eyes examined the tall structure of the tower, I saw a dark, castle-like mansion looming up from the mountainside behind it. The building was built higher up into the mountain than the rest of the city and appeared menacing even in the pleasant pinks and oranges of the setting sun. A shiver blew gently across my body and goose bumps bubbled up over my arms. There was no denying that little, old Saint Jean was creepy. Only my Mum would ever be the kind of person to choose this as our new place of residence. Creepy, freaky places seemed to attract her.

“That’s the patron’s ho
me,” said Mum following my gaze up to the mansion. “You’ll get to meet him tomorrow if you come with me when I sign the last of the paperwork.”                                                                   

“Great,” I said, with all the
enthusiasm of a mouse about to see the cat. Meeting Max’s father was definitely one of the last things on my list of things to do while in Saint Jean. I’d have to come up with a believable excuse between now and then to avoid that unfortunate pleasure.

Mum and I made our way off the bus and over to the large pile of baggage that belonged to us. Thankfully the bus driver had been kind enough to take everything out of the lugga
ge compartment for us, but now Mum and I were stuck with the task of either finding someone to help us carry it or taking it all up the hill by ourselves.

Other books

Jane Vejjajiva by Unknown
The Laird's Forbidden Lady by Ann Lethbridge
Wanderlust by Ann Aguirre
Ruth by Elizabeth Gaskell
Filthy Wicked Games by Lili Valente
Nightpool by Murphy, Shirley Rousseau
Without Chase by Jo Frances
Madeleine by Stephen Rawlings
A Question of Murder by Jessica Fletcher
Horse Camp by Nicole Helget