Spellbound

17

SOLEIL

I patiently wait for a response from Brice. 

His hands which were in mine a few seconds ago are now firmly on the wheel. I guess I shouldn't be surprised but I'm no less hurt. He probably thinks I'm cooked - a total nutcase. And after receiving similar treatment from Mark, I'm semi-numb to rejection at this point.

Emotional damage my subconscious chides.

His knuckles turn white. The angry roar of the car's engine which was exciting a few minutes ago now just seems ominous. Is it just me or are we moving faster?

I look at him in quiet panic. He glares at me in turn.

"What did you say?"

"Uhm Brice" I look between him and the road. "Can you slow down?"

He gives me a bemused smile and revs the engine shifting up a gear. My heartbeat shifts along with it. I grip onto the door handle.

"Brice, I'm sorry!" This must be the dozenth apology I've given tonight but I don't know what else to say. He looks pissed and I don't know if he's trying to kill us or maybe just scare me. Either way, it's working.

"Not another word, Soleil. If you want us to arrive in one piece, pas un autre mot." Not another word.

I shut my mouth and we arrive at the manor in the next 10 minutes even though it feels like an hour sitting in the tense silence. Brice punches in the code and the black, wrought-iron gates swing open. Cars fill the front drive.

Brice picks a spot and just parks not caring that he's obstructing two other vehicles. He gets out of the car and starts walking. I scramble out and follow because I don't want to be left alone in the parking lot.

We take the stairs and enter through the heavy, wooden double doors which are held open by a male servant. 

I follow Brice in. He's a few paces ahead of me and turns right down a hallway with the impressive art I got a tour of the last time I was here. This time I'm not getting a tour. I expected to run into people. Surprisingly, it looks like there's no one. 

The mansion is eerily quiet. 

Where is everybody?

We climb a set of stairs and on the second floor, three doors down, we come to a stop and enter a bedroom.

Brice heads to the sound system and turns up the music. He enters the bathroom and slams the door behind him without sparing me a glance.

I just stand there like a dweeb. Did I make a mistake? Should I be in here alone with him? Technically we're not alone by the looks of things downstairs, but where are all the people who arrived in the cars parked downstairs?

I wanna call someone - Char, but I can't lay this on her especially after ditching her. She explicitly told me not to tell him about the wish, but I didn't listen. I couldn't violate my conscience any longer by pretending this was just another day in my life. 

I decide to take a look around at the steel pressed ceilings and large platform bed. The french nuances in the room are impressive. Everything is so authentic, from the murals to the fabrics of the bedding and curtains. I feel the heavy fabric and wonder if it was imported.

There's an oil painting on the wall opposite the bed and it looks like Brice, albeit a more regal version. I walk over to his bedside table and pick up a few pictures that show him standing between a striking dark haired couple who he shares features with. 

I briefly think about my parents. The last picture I have of us together is when I was 7.

I pick up another frame and another. There's one with the same man who I presume is his dad and one with about two dozen different men in black suits. He stands in the center next to a handsome, blonde. The only picture I see of his mom is in the family portrait. I don't know how to feel about his sister - Hailey's absence on this shelf.