I barely slept reading the articles, the glowing screen of my phone casting an eerie blue light on my face. It was around ten in the morning when I finally drifted off, collapsing onto the hotel couch, still clad in my rumpled clothes from the fundraiser. I blinked awake, disoriented, and glanced around the suite. A neat stack of new clothes, expensive and perfectly folded, lay by the entrance door, accompanied by a note: "Co to next room, whenever you are available, regardless of your answer."
I took a good, cold shower, the icy spray a welco jolt to awaken from the fever dream of yesterday evening, preparing for the inevitable eting with him.
I knocked once, a hesitant rap on the heavy door. "It's , Raphael. Can I co in?"
His voice, even and asured, replied from within. “Please co inside.”
Our rooms mirrored each other’s opulence, draped in lavish golden accents and adorned with black-hued furnishings that felt like a twisted homage to excess and grandeur. He was sitting on the couch again, looking immaculate even in the early morning, with a vest buttoned over a white shirt. “Good morning, Mr. Everett. While I recognize it is early, I must address the matter at hand. Am I to understand that the presence of the contract in your possession signifies your acceptance?” he inquired, his gaze unwavering.
“Yeah! Yeah, I signed the damned thing! Happy now, you maniac?” I blurted out, the words laced with frustration and an undeniable exhaustion.
He let out a slow exhale. “I am content.”
He didn’t look like it though. He was the sa as yesterday, a picture of unflappable calm. His deadpan eyes, like twin pools of deep blue, sent familiar shivers down my spine.
“Shall we proceed to breakfast, Mr. Everett?” he suggested. His overly formal manners were, quite frankly, annoying the shit out of . But because I basically have no one treating with a respect like this, a faint, almost shaful thrill rippled through ; I was enjoying it.
The wait for the room service was filled with a thick, heavy silence. I didn’t like it.
“Levi.” I broke the quiet. He was busy typing sothing on his phone. He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Yes, Mr. Everett.”
“Why do you want this? If I’m being honest, I don’t think I can do what you want from ,” I confessed, the words tasting like ash. He turned his phone off, placing it on the cushion beside him, and gently extended his hand to . I took it with hesitation. He led us to the dining table. Just as he seated himself across from , the staff arrived, plates in hand, setting the table with a spread of delicate pastries, fresh fruit, and steaming tea.
He was sitting across from , patient and still, waiting for the hotel employees to leave us alone. I could tell, despite his composure, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the presence of others. After the last chi of the departing trolley faded, he stood up and got closer, his shadow falling over like a dark cloak. Without breaking his intense gaze, he poured tea, the stream silent and precise. He then sat back down to his seat, picking up where we left off.
“Mr. Everett, my objective is quite direct: I desire to be disowned. My lineage has endured for centuries, and my parents insist upon the continuation of our noble heritage through my progeny. This, I assure you, is an impossibility for .”
“Are you, like, sterile or sothing?”
“I find myself wishing that were the case, Mr. Everett.” He took a slow sip of his tea, his eyes fixed on over the rim of the cup. “My family maintains an anachronistic adherence to the concept of 'noble blood.' They envision that through a suitable union, I might procreate a successor who mirrors my genetic attributes, whom they could then manipulate for their purposes. I have no intention of perpetuating this cycle. I shall, however, confide a secret to you, Mr. Everett. A truth they endeavor to conceal.”
I stopped him with a raised hand, a sudden surge of sothing cold and real in my stomach.
“Hold on, wait. Before that, that’s not what I ant at all. I actually read up on you last night. They call you the ‘Saint of Ascaria,’ for crying out loud. How am I supposed to, like, possibly shatter that kind of insane hope?”
He looked at my face with a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Mr. Everett, should you so desire, at this very mont, as the publicly acknowledged spouse of Levi Blake, you could assassinate the monarch, and the citizens of Ascaria would, I daresay, declare: 'Mr. Blake undoubtedly possesses sound reasons for this action; let us follow him and initiate a revolt.'”
“Exactly! See, that’s what I’m trying to say. It’s absolutely terrifying,” I said and nodded vehently, the hair on my arms standing on end.
“This, Mr. Everett, represents a rare instance of my humility. You have likely discerned by now that I do not employ words without precise intent. My parents hold decidedly prejudiced views; they are racist and homophobic. And you, in contrast, are neither Ascarian, nor of noble lineage, and moreover, you are homosexual.”
“Seriously? That’s all?” I asked, genuinely baffled.
“Not entirely, but further revelations shall unfold in due course.”
“So, what exactly do you want to do?” I pressed, leaning forward slightly.
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“You are rely required to be yourself, Mr. Everett. I have observed so of your theatrical endeavors and perused various tabloid accounts concerning you. You are, it is widely known, prone to exhibitions of temper. I must concede, however, that your countenance possesses a certain angelic quality, Mr. Everett. Indeed, even your given na evokes such a connotation.”
Ah, this na of mine. The one my mother chose, thinking it would bestow so divine grace upon her difficult child.
“My parents were aggressively conservative. And for the record, I don’t think I have an angelic face. More like 'perpetually confused cherub'," I replied, a wry twist to my lips.
We both started eating.
“I find myself unable to concur with your assessnt. The attribute of an angelic countenance does not exclusively necessitate a round visage complented by large, innocent eyes. Indeed, so individuals possess features that simply evoke a profound sense of comfort,” he said, his voice asured.
I let out a soft chuckle, a genuine one for once.
“So, you find my face comforting? Really?” I asked, a hint of playful incredulity in my tone. He paused for a while, his gaze unblinking.
“I find myself compelled to neither concur nor dispute that particular assertion.”
What a let down. The opportunity to tease him vanished. He has a facade on him, a perfect mask of indifference, and I wanted to see him flustered, to crack that composure. My disappointnt was clear on my face, a slight slump of my shoulders. He must have picked it up.
“I am prepared to address any inquiries concerning myself or your person, Mr. Everett.”
His extre manners, while he ticulously nibbled on a pancake, eating without making any sound, was utterly grating on my nerves.
“Seriously, just stop calling Mr. Everett. It’s getting old.”
“As you prefer. What designation would you like to employ when addressing you?” he asked, his head tilted slightly.
I wasn’t ready for that. My brain scrambled for a mont. “Just… Raphael. I an, I’m already calling you Levi, aren’t I?”
“Understood, Raphael.”
The na I had heard over and over again, in my twenty-five years of life, simply ca out of this man’s mouth without any hassle, it rolled… Beautifully. A man can’t believe how he can be turned on at the breakfast table with a literal stranger just by hearing his own na. I suddenly wanted to know everything about his sex life, about the enigmatic man across from . “Hey. So humor for a sec. Are you, like, a t-” I began, leaning forward conspiratorially.
Soone barged in the mont I was about to ask the most important question. It was the sly secretary, Holden. What kind of a secretary enters without a knock to his boss’ room, especially during what was clearly a private conversation? He saw , and greeted with a polite nod. “My apologies to both of you, but Mr. Blake is needed urgently.”
“Does he have to ditch us? We were kind of in the middle of sothing important here,” I said, a whine creeping into my voice. Levi looked at , then at Holden.
“Holden, ensure the relevant files are forwarded to Annie, and instruct her unequivocally not to compromise; it is they who are in need of our assistance. We possess the most extensive laboratory facilities on the entire continent; the modest scale of our operations does not preclude their unparalleled efficacy. Furthermore, I require the institute to exert its influence regarding the recruitnt of new personnel. Annually, their alumni consistently present challenges to our work environnt, and I frankly have no desire to personally intervene and admonish my staff. Lastly, as the clinical trials for our novel compounds remain in their nascent stages, procure additional test subjects. And, most critically, arrange a dinner with my parents for Saturday evening and prepare the marital docuntation.”
Holden, who had been writing everything on his tablet, paused and looked up at , a tiny smile. “Congratulations on your wedding,” he said, his voice flat.
I took a sip of my tea, eting his gaze with a defiant stare. “Yeah, yeah, go do your magic and then disappear, would you?” I said, waving a hand dismissively. He replied with the sa uninflected voice. “As you wish.” Then, as quietly as he had appeared, he left.
I was expecting Levi to be a little bitch about my whining, to perhaps scold for my rudeness to his secretary, but he didn’t react. He simply finished his breakfast, ticulously cleaning his mouth with his napkin.
“Look, I really don’t like that guy,” I said, watching him.
He gently folded his napkin and placed it precisely on the empty plate. “Should that be your desire, I can indeed terminate his employnt?” he asked, his voice even.
“What? Seriously? You’d actually fire him?” I asked, bewildered by his imdiate, emotionless offer.
He didn’t hesitate to answer, his eyes fixed on mine. “While he is a thoroughly competent and efficient employee, your preference carries greater import than his continued tenure.”
How can soone say these words without zero feelings?
“No, no, don’t fire him, that’s insane. He didn’t actually do anything wrong, he just… gives seriously bad vibes,” I said, trying to rationalize it. He was listening to , utterly focused, as he stood from his chair and slowly got closer. “Raphael, I appear to have miscalculated. I had initially surmised that you might find his presence more agreeable, and therefore intended for our communication during the duration of our marital arrangent to primarily occur through him. However, I am entirely capable of engaging a different liaison for our purposes.”
Okay, nothing he said made sense. Why would I be more comfortable with soone else acting as a middleman?
“Converse through him? What the hell does that even an? We have phones, don’t we?” I asked, utterly bewildered.
“I shall not, in actual fact, be frequently present at the residence, Raphael.”
Ah, don’t say my na with your cold and deep voice; it does things to .
“Why not?” I retorted.
"We may resu our discourse at our shared residence. I presu you may wish to retrieve your personal effects from your current apartnt. As an initial compensation, I will provide you with a credit card; your financial expenditures shall not be subject to my scrutiny.” He looked at my empty tea cup, a subtle shift in his gaze. “Raphael, while I am entirely capable of procuring any item you might require, I am inford that individuals often ascribe sentintal value to their personal possessions. As this marks a new chapter in your life, I will endeavor to accommodate your preferences to the utmost of my ability.”
“You are a seriously weird guy,” I said, a dry, incredulous chuckle escaping , the absurdity of the situation overwhelming.
“Indeed, Raphael. I bid you farewell for the day,” he said, turning, and then, with a final, unhurried movent, he left the room, leaving alone with the silence and the echoes of his unsettling pronouncents.
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