"How''s today''s work?"
M lifted her veil.
Lounging in the soft chair, the woman was all but swathed in gold silk-her figure bathed in sunlight, shrouded in an aura of sanctity and mystery. No one could make out her features, but M saw right through her. It was the same as always: Felicity, all false affection and empty warmth.
If her love was real,
then why was she suffering?
M scraped a bit of ck and red paint onto her palette, blending them until she''d created a deep, haunting crimson. Dipping her brush, she painted a lifelike ck-red rose right onto the woman''s golden veil. Suddenly, the entire image- once so pure was tinged with something eerie.
A man''s low chuckle broke the silence.
"I knew you''d like those roses," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "I had theb working for ages to cultivate the perfect ck-red rose, just for you. I thought they''d make the perfect flowers for our wedding-what do you say?"
66
A wedding?
He was seriously still going on about that?
M was speechless. She wanted to p him, but... well, she didn''t dare. If she woke him from this delusion, she''d be the one to suffer.
Please let him just be talking nonsense-he couldn''t possibly be in his right mind. "My darling,"
He took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss onto her knuckles through the golden veil. "You still owe me a wedding. I''ve been waiting for so long."
M gritted her teeth.
Could he stop bringing that up? What did any of this have to do with her, anyway?
Total disaster.
After that, M had zero appetite for the rest of the pic. She trudged back to the old manor, barely touched her dinner, and spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
All night, she kept repeating to herself: Let this just be a passing whim. Please, don''t let him actually go through with it.
The next day, her hopes were dashed.
M stood there, face nk, arms outstretched as the seamstress took her measurements. Apparently, they were making her a wedding dress.
She was on the verge of losing it.
Why was this happening?
Could this lunatice to his senses for once? She wasn''t the one he wanted- couldn''t he use his brain?
She was going to lose her mind.
But here, in this manor, she had less say than anyone else. Refusing was out of the question.
From that day on, Cossio suddenly got busy. He was hardly ever around.
Normally, that would''ve been a blessing. But with the wedding looming, M could find no relief.
She was doomed.
After two more sleepless nights, M finally snapped. She decided she had to talk to Cossio-this marriage nonsense had to stop. No matter the reason, she could not agree to this. Absolutely not.
She ate a decent dinner, then waited in her room until it gotte. After rehearsing what she''d say a dozen times, she draped her veil over her face, crossed the hallway, and made her way to the master bedroom upstairs. She knocked on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again, and again-still nothing.
Maybe he was in the studio. She made her way there and rapped lightly on that door instead. Still no response, but this time the door was ajar, just a sliver of darkness inside. He had to be in there, either lost in his art or just ignoring her.
Hesitating only a moment, M pushed the door open, lifting her veil just enough to see inside.
And froze, eyes widening in shock.
What was she looking at?
In the studio,
Paintingsy scattered, most draped in white cloths-except now, the cloths had been pulled off, lying in heaps on the floor, exposing whaty beneath.
She saw one painting in particr:
A naked woman, beautiful and fragile, her pale skin bound tight with countless red threads. A man''s ghostly white hand gripped her slender, entangled neck, pulling her close, kissing her even as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.
There were more like it.
Some were even more lurid, some featuring only women, others showing men and women twisted together in every possible way-scenes of chaos and excess.
The man''s face was only visible in profile, but it was unmistakably Cossio.
And the woman?
Every single face was Felicity''s. Clear as day.
M stood rooted to the spot.
She didn''t snap out of it until she heard a faint sound from the master bedroom
next door. Panicking, she stumbled backward and fled.
She was genuinely rattled.
She''dpletely forgotten why she''de.
Back in her room, M opened a window and let the sea breeze wash over her, one hand pressed to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. The shock lingered.
She''d always suspected-
That Cossio and Felicity had been lovers, or at least entangled in some doomed romance. But she''d never imagined this.
He''d gone this far? Judging by the pain and resistance on the women''s faces in those paintings-by the tears-it was hard to believe any of it had been consensual. Yet Cossio had painted it all... The man was a monster.
M felt sick, and more than a little regretful. She smacked herself on the forehead a few times, trying to clear her head.
She wished she''d never tried to talk to Cossio.
She hadn''t managed to say a word, and instead, she''d stumbled across something she could never un-see-intimate scenes between people she''d thought of as authority figures, even if they were only paintings. It was still hard to process.
And soon,
she was supposed to marry this lunatic.
God help her.
M buried her face in her hands, crouching on the floor. What was she supposed
to do now?
She''d barely begun to despair when suddenly-wait. A wedding meant guests, didn''t it?
And maybe not here, in the manor.
Given how much Cossio cared about this wedding, there was no way he''d keep it quiet. He''d want the world to know.
If there were crowds of people, and the ceremony was held somewhere public... that would be her chance!
She could stir up trouble, create a distraction, and escape while everyone was distracted. It was the best opportunity she was ever likely to get.
If she could just seize that moment-she might actually make it out.