Page 155 of Never Tell Lies

He led me up the staircase and took a sharp left down a corridor before taking another series of turns until we were in what I presumed was the back of the house. He picked a room, seemingly at random, and gestured for me to go inside. Theroom was halfway through renovation. Dust sheeting covered everything and the walls were plastered but unpainted.

I heard a small click and turned to find him locking us in. That trapped feeling returned but I tried to push it down.

I looked up at him, my arms folded and my defences well and truly up. His treatment of me this morning still stung like a bitch, and being in his presence reminded me that I’d put myself out there last night and he’d thrown it back in my face. Despite that, I squared my shoulders, ready to deal with whatever he threw at me. I wondered what method he’d use to win me over this time. Would he twist my mind or my body? Perhaps he would blackmail me somehow or throw some possessive bullshit into the mix.

I was surprised when he did none of those things and instead wandered past me to stand in front of the arch-shaped window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at a piece of his global empire and ignoring me entirely.

Is this a new kind of manipulation? Am I getting the silent treatment now?

I stood there, waiting for him to say or do something, but he didn’t, and as the seconds ticked by I got more and more frustrated.

“You know, if you wanted to stare out of a window like you’re in a damned music video you could have just left me at home.”

I expected a biting retort but he only chuckled softly.

“You know, you’re the only woman I have ever met who’s had the nerve to talk to me like that.” His words should have charmed me, but I was in no mood to be charmed.

“Yeah, I’m really special.”

“You have no idea,” he murmured, still staring out of the window, leaving me with no choice but to stare daggers into his back.

“Whatever. Why don’t you just let me out of here? Or is this another one of your mind fucks? You humiliate me, reject me, ignore me all day, then you send your fuckingbutlerto blackmail me into coming here, just so you can give me the silent treatment?” The vehemence in my voice finally seemed to catch his attention. He turned, his gaze curious.

“You’re angry with me.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “Oh, well done! Ten points to Slytherin!”

“I’m not used to a person being angry with me.” He looked at me as if I were a foreign beast, as if I’d never been angry with him before.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Mr Tell. I’m sure you piss people off all the time.” For the first time, he bristled. I saw his fists bunch in his pockets and the familiar tick in his jaw that told me that he was not amused.

“Let me rephrase. I am not used to a person displaying their anger. Nor am I used to explaining myself.” His voice was so cold it sent a shiver up my spine. “I am acutely aware that I am on thin ice with you and that if I crack it any further the damage would be irreparable. Sharing myself is not something I am used to doing. Unlike you I am not open or honest. The depth of ineptitude I feel when I am around you is staggering and I don’t care for it. Please allow me a moment to gather my thoughts so that I don’t make a damned fool of myself.” He finished his speech and I could see in his eyes the same self-conscious insecurity that I felt so often on my own face. We were in the land of his weaknesses now, and it was a peculiar feeling. Alfie was always the superior one, the one with more knowledge, more money, more everything. Yet when it came to this simplest of things, he was completely clueless.

Hope began to bloom inside me, hope that he might finally be letting me in a little. I took a step towards him, my naturalinstinct being to comfort him but his icy gaze stopped me in my tracks.

“Don’t touch me, O’Connell. The purpose of my silence is to gather my thoughts, not to have you blow them out of my head.” I froze, my jaw slack as he turned back to the window, resuming his stoic stare. Unsure what else to do, I followed his gaze and saw for the first time what had his attention. The arched window gave a perfect view of the place where our garden would be. It was hidden by trees, but the pathway was there and the first of the stone steps. The hopeful part of me wondered if he was imagining our Evergarden.

I decided to let him be. Despite my own turmoil and his treatment of me, I took a step back and waited until he was ready. Eventually, after many minutes, he began to speak.

“When I was twenty or so, I was in Florence with my Tellers,” he began and my breath caught in my throat. Alfie had never, of his own volition, divulged anything of his past. “The sun was just coming up. The streets were deserted and we were making our way back to our villa after having spent some days at an event.”An event?I was curious but decided it was probably better if I didn’t know. I could guess what kind of event it had been.

Alfie was quiet again for a moment, his spine stiff, his shoulders like concrete. I approached him again and leaned against the window pane so I could look at him. He kept his gaze focused on the imaginary Evergarden. “I only remember a few things about that night; how difficult it was to walk on cobblestones as drunk as we were, how my Tellers sang Tu Vuo’ Fa’ L’Americano in butchered Italian as we walked through the city, and the girl playing the violin.” His eyes glazed over, lost in the memory of some girl I had never met. I couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy. “I play the violin, did I ever tell you that?” He glanced at me and I shivered.

“No, but it doesn’t surprise me,” I said softly, wondering how much I would give to see Alfie Tell play the violin. It would be a heady experience, to see him play an instrument as beautifully as he played me.

“No, I don’t suppose it should.” His steel greys landed on my lips and I saw that tick in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He forced himself to take a breath and drag his gaze away and back out to the garden. It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t need to tell me this story. He could push me up against the wall and I wouldn’t do anything to stop him, but he was choosing not to, he was choosing to let me in.

“I split off from my Tellers and eventually found her in a backstreet, hidden away as if she didn’t want to be seen, which I thought was strange for a street performer. She had thick, black hair tied back at the nape of her neck and she was dressed very plainly. Her violin was of very poor quality but she playedVivaldias if she were on stage at the Teatro La Fenice. I sat and watched her play in the shadows and when it ended, I approached her. I expected her to act as girls usually did and I remember how surprised I was when she gave me the cold shoulder. I told her she was talented and that made her prickle. I told her how beautiful she was and that only made her angry. I offered her money but she refused it and left, seeming to want to be away from me as quickly as possible. I followed her. I’m not ashamed of that. I was curious about her and her denial of me only piqued that curiosity. You know how persistent I can be when it comes to getting something I want.” A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I found out where she lived and several days later I returned to her home with a violin by Carlo Ferdinando Landolphi, not usually an easy piece to find but it took one of my Tellers only a few days to procure it for me.” He smiled a little at the memory, amemory that was so bizarre to me, a memory that sounded more like fiction than fact.

“Her father answered the door. He invited me inside and I met her mother, along with her siblings. None of them had any idea what the violin was, its history or its worth, but she knew and she refused to take it no matter how I tried to persuade her. I didn’t stay long but I stayed long enough to understand why she had played at dawn in deserted streets and why she refused the violin. Her family was not kind to her. I don’t know if they hit her or anything like that, but they bullied her, belittled her. Her father was the worst. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he said,‘You bought a violin for this stupid girl?’and then her mother joined in. ‘You had better hold onto him, Sofia, no one else would have you.’ They tag teamed her and her brother and sister enjoyed it.” The ache in my chest bloomed for him and I had to wrap my arms around myself to keep from comforting him. I was understanding, I was finally understanding, if only a little.

“I understood then why she had bitten at my compliments. She considered herself unworthy of them. She had been taught that she was unworthy for a very long time.” He finished and I stood there in a cold silence, unsure what to say.

“You’re not unworthy, Alfie,” I said eventually. “I don’t know who taught you that you were and I’m sorry that they did, but I won’t allow you to do the same thing to me.” His eyes flashed in surprise. I wondered that he hadn’t been able to draw the parallels between the story he’d just told and his treatment of me this morning.

“You bullied and manipulated me. You looked down your nose at me, at my simple life and my simple clothes, and insisted that I could only please you in a £3,000 dress. I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry for whatever badness someone put in your head, but that’s not a good enough reason to stomp all over me. Talk tome, or tell me you need space, but don’t ever treat me like that again.” My voice cracked, my hurt leaking through, and Alfie studied me closely, reading every inch of my face. I waited for his argument, for his clever words that would blow me out of the water.

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