Keeping The Royal Treaty CHAPTER 8

“Francis, I will pick you at six,” Vince said. I frown and look at Dominique, waiting for him to ask the question.

Dominique sighs, his gaze stern. “Is there any special occasion? It’s unlikely of you to cancel your agenda,” Dominique asks, thankful he read my mind. 

Vince shakes his head in negation. “You can talk Francis,” he said. “You are completely capable of talking, are you not? Just tell me whatever you have in mind.”

“I- Is there any special occasion?” I ask, repeating the same question Dominique asked. 

“We are having dinner at my parent’s house. And no, there is none, unless you consider meeting my brother an occasion,” he replies. 

“Lucien?” Dominique asks. 

“You will see him after you entertain our guest. You will attend the celebration on my behalf,” Vince replies. “You better be on your best behavior.”

“Aren’t I always?” Dominique answers.

A dinner at his parent’s house? I never once set a foot in his parent’s manor, nor I ever intend to. I couldn’t get along with Vince, let alone the maids or the guards. How much more Vince’s parents?  

“Francis,” says Vince, as he sees me gawking at him. 

“Huh?” Vince opens his mouth to say something, but thankfully, another vexing noise erupts Vince’s phone.

“Let’s go, Dom. I still have one meeting to attend,” Vince said, answering his phone without further delays. He left the room leaving me and Dominique saying our goodbyes. 

“Off we go. Are you not saying goodbye to your husband? You haven’t seen him for three days,” Dominique tease. “But all jokes aside, I thought you were trampled after seeing those dead bodies. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not okay Francis.”

“What? I’m-“

“I’m not stupid, Francis. Have you looked yourself in the mirror? Hell, I can tell you haven’t been sleeping for days,” he retorts. 

“Yes, and I am fine. I don’t need-“

“Stop acting stubborn will you. Are you trying to act tough? Because if you are, you have to do better than that. You’re obviously not ‘fine’,” he argues.

I stare at him in disbelief. “You need to leave,” I murmur.

“Look, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I can always lend a helping hand if you need one. I’ve got your back,” he continues.

“Why would you want to help me? I don’t want your pity,” I bellow, wanting to hurt him for looking down on me.

“Pity you say. Yes, I do pity you, but I’m not doing this out of pity. You remind me of someone I know. Someone who wears masks to hide his feeling and authenticity. But tear off the mask, you will see how wounded he is,” he responds. “I better get going, I’ll see you around.”

My heart stings as Dominique’s words sink in. I know he is being sympathetic, trying to help, but why do I feel so angry? I never ask for his pity, or everyone else. Instinctively, I feel pathetic and weak every time I have this kind of discussions. I would swallow my retort, smile and move on. 

And here I am, standing all alone, admitting to myself that I am nothing but a failure. But at the moment, anger boils up within my system. There’s no doubt that Dominique was right. I’ve been swallowing my pride all this time, lying to myself that everything is ‘fine’. 

That said, I rush to the door to reach Dominique. “Wait! Dominique!” I shout. He was startled for a moment, a frown and confusion is written on his face. 

“Francis?”

“I’m- I’m not okay Dominique! I’m not! Every time I’m alone in this house, anxiety is consuming me- slowly. It kills me that every day I wake up I don’t see meaning in life,” I denounce. My eyes are clouded with tears. I could not control my emotions anymore, tired of acting tough.

“Francis-“

“No, you have to know. You were right! I haven’t had any sleep in three days. The only time I get to take a rest is when Adeline is tending the garden, because I know she is out there watching over—” I immediately stop when I see the look on Vince’s face. Why is he making that expression? He’s confused and bedazzled, but there is something else that masks his demeanor-guilt. I swallow hard, feeling a knot in my stomach.

Out of nowhere, I feel a heavy weight crash into my entire body. For a second, everything went black. 

“Francis!” Dominiques’ word is the last thing I heard before I let myself be swallowed by the darkness.

I open my eyes and Vince is nowhere to be found. I stretch my whole body, feeling warm and cozy, and again, sleep is calling me once more. 

But then it struck me, I’m all alone. I can’t see the whole room, except the light illuminating from the lampstand. It isn’t the same room I stayed the night James attacked me. 

I immediately scurry my way out of the covers. But little did I know, my foot tramples on the duvet, making me fall from the bed. There is a vehement thump against the floor. My knee and elbow are the first to feel the impact. A groan sleeps from my mouth. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Vince said. He is wearing nothing a but a towel wrap around his pelvis; water still dripping from his hair. 

He helps me stand on my feet. It’s strange, I can feel the callus on his palm, and around his fingers, it wasn’t soft as I expected it to be. Did he get this from beating and torturing a defenseless man?

“You have few more hours to rest,” he murmurs. No matter how rough his hand is, I still find comfort, lulling me to sleep. 

Once again, I open my eyes, but this time, it was a nightmare that woke me. It was the same scenario that has been occupying my sleep. My breathing is slightly faster than normal; deeper than normal. I can feel a sheen sweat covers my back. I look around and I’m in the very same room, but this time, I am not alone.

Vince is sitting at the end of the mattress, slouched; elbows on his knees and his face is resting on his hands, covering his entire face. Looking at his figure, I’ve never seen him slouch before, most of the time, he is towering me with our differences of height.

“Vince,” I murmur. 

“You haven’t eaten the whole day. You have been skipping your meals. Instead, you spend most of your time sleeping in broad daylight,” he said. 

“Did Anabelle told you that?” I ask.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. You’re letting James into your head. He’s dead and— Why the hell are you crying?”

I gaze at him, meeting his piercing eyes. “It’s true,” I reply, truthfully. “I know his dead but… Vince, I’m- I’m not like you. I don’t belong here-“

“To this fucked up life?’ Are you going to throw another tantrum? Whine how unfair the world is treating you? How cruel am I?”

“No.”

“You need to stop acting like a child, you sound absurd. You knew this would happen the moment you agreed to this fucking marriage, so why did you?!”

“Please stop.”

“Did your father force you to do so?”

“No.”

“Really? Did he use your mother’s death to entice you to agree to this marriage? Or did he promise you for something in return?” he accuses. “You were perfectly hidden for years. You shouldn’t have left your hole.”

“So what if my father did force me into this marriage? You’re right, I did agree with this rubbish, but… you weren’t the only one with an ulterior motive. I too have intentions.” 

Lies. 

“And so the truth comes out,” he said, smirking as if he was a madman that discovers his enemy’s secret. “You have to get dress. You have half an hour to prepare yourself,” he orders. He stood up and run his hands over his short quiff hair. 

I watch him leave the room, leaving me with my train my thoughts. Tears are no longer spilling when the realization hits me.

I know I’ll regret the words that came out from my mouth. Just like Madeline said, some people assume that individuals who agreed to this treaty neither have motives or wanting to take the responsibility.  

But now I know, Vince claims that I have intentions. Is it the reason why he never trusted me? Why he resent me?

I walk straight to my room and to the washroom. The tub is filled with water, and a familiar scent of lavender emits from it. Vince must have ordered the maids to prepare a bath.

Did he stay the whole time I was asleep? The stress and lack of sleep must have gotten me. I must be in Vince’s room, I saw him nothing but a towel not long ago, he must have rushed out from the shower when he heard me fell from the mattress. 

I strip all my clothes and stare at myself in the mirror. ‘Have you look yourself in the mirror?’ Dominique words run through my mind. I’m only nineteen, but my reflection tells me otherwise. My lips are slightly chap, dark circles around my eyes; bags underneath. I can’t remember the last time I cut my hair either. 

I let myself sink into the water. The warmth embraces my whole body; relieving some of my muscle pain.

I know I only have half an hour, but leaving this comfort is impossible. But otherwise, I pull myself up and dry myself as fast as I can. I dress what I usually wear, nothing sumptuous, but good enough to look presentable. 

I rush my way downstairs and into the exit, but Anabelle is blocking the way. Vince is nowhere to be seen, neither are his men. The car parked outside is no longer there. He must have left me. I know it took me more than half an hour preparing, and I should have known better. 

“Sir Vince is waiting for you in the parking garage,” says Anabelle. 

As soon as I walk into the parking garage, there is nobody else but Vince himself. He is leaning on one of his majestic rides. I made my way to his direction as he opens the passenger’s door. 

The ride is quiet as usual. But there is one thing that’s been keeping my mind occupied. It’s the song- no, the sound playing on the stereo. There is nothing but instruments, guitar to be exact. It’s soothing and melodious. I am swayed by the rhythm, but what intrigued me the most is why a heartless man listen to this kind of melody? 

Ironic. 

When we arrive at Vince’s parent’s house, maids greets us from the entry. “Good evening Sir Vince, Sir Francis,” one of the maids said. 

“Where’s mother?” Vince asks. 

“I’m afraid she has an urgent meeting to attend to, but she said she won’t be long,” the maid answer. 

As I set foot in the living room, I question myself if my eyes are playing tricks on me. This isn’t a house! How can they afford to live in such a luxurious home?! 

“Stop ogling,” Vince drawls, my eyebrows twitch the way he prolongs the vowels. 

“I’m not ogling. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me,” I protest. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but your father would like to speak with you sir Vince, alone,” the maid announce. “I’ll take Mr. Francis into the minibar. I heard he is fond of wines and drinks,” she says, eyeing me warily.

“No, I don’t. But I would like some drink,” I reply. 

I followed her through the minibar. There is no one but myself and it reminds me of Vince’s house. They do live in a mansion, yet they are nothing but decorations.

“Please help yourself,” she says.

There are more than fifty bottles of wine to choose from. The bottles are arranged neatly, their colorful tops giving them the impression that they surely are extravagant.

I skim through the shelves and pick the bottle that picks my interest the most. The bottle is almost empty, so I took the liberty to finish the last shot. “Dom-Domaine de-“ 

“Domaine de la Romanee,” the voice said. “The most expensive wine in the house, well, the whole world. Good choice,” he adds. “Too bad, I didn’t get a taste of it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” I apologize. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m kidding. Besides, I prefer Egon Muller,” he interjects. I’ll assume it’s another expensive brand of wine. “What are you doing out here drinking alone? Are you perhaps one of my mother’s acquaintance? “

“No- I’m Vince’s…”

“Husband?” he says, a very captivating smile on his lips.

“Yeah, and you must be Lucien?”

“Aye! We finally meet. So, how is the world treating you so far? or my brother to be exact,” he asks. 

“Vince and I live a very peaceful life. Until we met,” I respond. “To be honest, I think he is playing hard to get.”

He laughs at my remarks. “You just made my day. Well, let me tell you a secret how to catch that bastard. The secret is… Anyways, why are you doing drinking by yourself? Where’s Vince?”

I tried not to roll my eyes at him instead, I cleared my throat to dismiss my annoyance. “The secret is?”

“Okay. The secret depends on how big is hidden behind your …trousers,” he says. Another burst of laughter escapes his mouth. “This is a great start! Now I know why Vince keeps you to himself. Where the hell is that jackass?”

“He is talking with your father right now.”

After hearing that, his humor instantly disappears. “Father? I thought he wasn’t here. Where are they?” 

“I don’t really know,” I reply. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Not too long. Ten minutes or so,” I reply, not exactly sure how long it has been. There is a concerning look on his face. “Is there something wrong?” I add.

“No, but I have to go. Oh! You don’t want to miss my mom’s ‘better-than-ever-meatloaf’, especially her famous old-fashioned buttermilk biscuit. The only thing that keeps me coming back to this shit hole,” he says.

Shit hole? What’s that suppose to mean? “Excuse me?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised when mother told me you and Vince are coming for dinner. I thought Vince would never set foot in this house ever again, so, here I am. I don’t want to miss any family drama -” he immediately stops when we heard a clattering sound of a shattered glass. 

Goosebumps covered my entire body. It is quiet for a second, but Lucien lays his hand on my shoulder, assuring that everything is fine. He immediately jaunts where the sound came from and I follow him. And there they are, Vince is sitting right across a man older than him. They seem calm and composed, even with the broken bottle of wine.

A maid excuse herself and made her way to clean the mess. 

“You’ve never changed Vince, adamant as ever. I don’t know why you keep disobeying my orders, but if you keep this attitude of yours, you will surely regret this in the future,” his father says. “I suppose you were right, nothing good will ever come out of this marriage. I should have let Lucien marry the boy,” he adds.

“Frankly, I never thought I would say this, but I am more than happy to have Francis as my wife,” Vince answers. 

“Give the boy his privilege. He will know everything, eventually,” his father responds, ignoring Lucien and I’s existence.  

“He does not need to worry about anything but his twentieth banquet,” Vince argues. He brakes the staring contest with his father and gazes at me, which I find very strange. “As promised to your father’s accord, I tried my best to ensure your safety and not engage myself from any of your activities until you turn twenty. But now, it’s about time I give you my full attention, sweetheart.”

________

There we are. 

I hope you guys liked it.