Page 41 of Honey, Honey
Christian was here. It was going to be a weird night. Even if he wasn’t allowed to harass me, or touch me.
“Connie said,” I told my reflection moving on to my eyelashes. The words had power in the Cairn, but here in the emptiness of my suite, where I stood alone, barefoot in a dress far too fine for me, and painting my lips crimson for armor, the words sounded painfully weak and paper thin.
What would it really do if Christian set his mind to something? He was obsessive. I knew that. It was one of the reasons I had fallen for him. The drama and intensity of his desire had been intoxicating, and I had grown up with mommy issues. I craved that sense of belonging and care from another person even if I did my hardest to ignore it. Christian had fed those needs until I was his and then he’d changed.
Everything had changed.
I shook my head. “We are not going there. Not now. Not tonight.” I put down my mascara wand with a snap of my hand and snatched up my perfume bottle, spritzing myself and then turned heel and left the bathroom with a slap of my fingers on the light switch. I pulled out the strappy gold heels I’d brought and went about putting them on, forcing my brain to focus on the straps of it, delicately and securely tying them up. When I was done, I gave myself a final once over in the gilded mirror propped up on the wall beside the bed.
The heels added just enough height to me that I became statuesque in the best of ways, the dress’s color accentuated the tan of my skin, my makeup the right blend of drama and simplicity that insisted I belonged anywhere I chose to go, my long dark hair fell in soft waves, spilling over my shoulders and back, a lovely contrast against my dress.
The woman staring back at me was beautiful. She was perfect and serene, or you’d think so, if not for her eyes. If you didn't look at her eyes you’d think she was a goddess returning home. I swallowed hard and looked at myself, looked right into my eyes and saw the fear in them.
Christian is here tonight.
I closed my eyes and took in a shuddering breath. The man still had a hold on me that sent a blast of fear straight through me, nearly rendering me immobile. I hated feeling like this. Hated knowing that a person was responsible for it. I opened my eyes and looked back into my reflection. Yes, I looked perfect and confident, except for my eyes.
“Fuck.”
Was it too late to tell Connie I needed to leave? Could I make a hasty exit, or maybe just not leave my room and-
There was a sharp rap at the door and I let out a yelp, jumping slightly at the noise. I stared at the door in silence, eyes wide and the only thought that came to me was ‘what if it’s him.’
“He doesn't know you’re here,” I insisted, and forced myself to start moving. “He can’t.” I said the words out loud because a long time ago I’d had a therapist teach me that anytime my thoughts got too loud, made me start to panic, that I needed to look at where the fear was really coming from. Was it being told to me by the outside world, or was it coming from me? From my own thoughts? If it was the latter, I had to remind myself the only fear I was responding to was from inside my head. If the only threat were the words I was repeating then the threat wasn’t truly there, was it?
Talking out loud was a way to break the loop of anxiety that had a tendency to spin out of control when I was stressed.
“He doesn't know you’re here,” I said again, forcing myself to say it louder. “It’s not him.” I moved then, crossing the room and making for the door. “He isn’t there. It’s not him,” I said, heart racing. I reached for the door and opened it quickly before I lost my nerve. A cart greeted me, not a person in sight. A nervous giggle escaped my lips. I’d been worried and there wasn’t even a staff member to be seen.
There was nothing on the cart save for a note with Connie’s familiar handwriting on it but I wheeled it into my room all the same. I shut the door and stared down at the letter with big scrawling black lines that simply saidHoney.
I reached out and picked up the crisply folded paper. It felt creamy and luxurious beneath my fingers, because of course it was just like everything else in this place—-the very best. I unfolded it and bit my lip, eyes scanning the paper.
Honey,it began, and seeing my name in Connie’s writing helped me relax slightly. She’d taken the time to do this herself.
I know you’re nervous but you have no reason to be. I’ve arranged company for you to enjoy yourself. Tonight will be utterly beautiful. Trust me.
Yours,
Connie
I re-read those last two words. Trust me. She knew I was nervous and she was assuring me that I had no reason to be because she had taken care of it. I wiggled my bottom lip between my teeth, not caring that I was probably ruining the lipstick I had just carefully applied. What did she mean by company, exactly?
PS- There’s champagne in the fridge. I insist you enjoy a glass before tonight.
I smiled seeing the postscript and dropped the letter onto the cart. I walked to the fridge and opened it taking a clearer inventory of what was in it. Earlier I’d grabbed the fruit platter and not paid much attention beside that. But now I saw that there was not just a single bottle of champagne, but there were several, alongside other food that I might want to try. “Is that a chocolate cake?” I whispered, leaning in to see that it was, indeed, a chocolate cake. I was going to eat at least half before I left. No doubt about it. I pulled a bottle of champagne from the fridge and took my time pulling the wrapping free and popping the cork. It made a satisfying popping sound and I dropped the cork onto the counter, snagging a champagne flute from the cabinet. Once I had poured my drink, I took a dainty sip and sighed. It was cool and sweet, bubbly in just the right way that woke up my senses and broke through the panic I’d been spiraling in.
I took another sip and then drained the glass, which I promptly refilled with more bubbly. I didn’t normally drink at all when I came to play, but this was different. My nerves were jangling so loud I could practically feel them trying to burst through my skin. Liquid courage was essential if I was going to make an appearance at all outside of this room.
I wandered back over to the cart, heels clicking lightly on the hardwood and stopped beside it. The paper was laying where I had dropped it and I touched it again, smoothing it out with two fingers.
Yours, Connie
I didn’t miss the yours she had included. Connie had never been overly sentimental with me and this was new. What if it was her that would be keeping me company tonight?
I flushed hot, skin going prickly with all the energy of a live wire. If it was her then tonight was going to be something all right. I took another hasty sip from my drink before I set it down and made a beeline back to the bathroom.
I needed to double check my makeup and get the hell out of my room before I drank the entire bottle and refused to come out. Or worse, actually, I could drink the bottle and show up ready to lay into Christian. I shook my head and carefully fixed my lipstick. I wanted neither of those to happen tonight.
