The Mysterious Gilbert

Gilbert was entranced by the sight of the woman sleeping in his bed. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back, and her curves were perfectly accentuated by his white shirt. He couldn't resist the urge to run his hands over her body and feel her soft skin against his fingertips.

Despite the exhaustion that showed on her face, he found her even more alluring. The way her chest rose and fell with every breath made him ache with desire. But he frowned, looking at his belongings sad and humiliated was making him furious.

He leaned down, trailing his fingers along her collarbone and down her chest, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. Suddenly the woman woke up, her eyelashes fluttering. 

"What are you doing Gilbert, don't be too close to me, you reek of cigar," she said, but her eyes betrayed her words, filled with desire for him.

"Good morning, my love. I couldn't resist waking up next to you," Gilbert said, his voice husky with desire. He leaned in to kiss her eyes, his lips gentle and warm against her skin.

Beatrice's fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer, her lips seeking his. Gilbert positioned himself on top of her, their bodies pressing together in a heated embrace. His hands roamed over her curves, igniting her desire for him even more.

"Gilbert, I need you," she whispered, her voice laced with desire. "Take me, please." Gilbert grinned and kissed her again, deepening their embrace.

As they broke away from the kiss, Beatrice's eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and love for the man she couldn't resist.

Gilbert whispered in her ear, "I want you, my love. I need you," before kissing her neck and trailing down to her collarbone, igniting her passion once again.

Their bodies were entwined in a passionate embrace, and Beatrice felt as if nothing else in the world mattered. But then, suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the room, disrupting their intimate moment.

The door opened to reveal the butler, who looked aghast at the scene before him. "Mr. Gilbert," he said, clearing his throat. "I apologize for the intrusion, but you're running late for work."

Gilbert reluctantly untangled himself from Beatrice and sat up, smoothing out his disheveled hair and clothing. The butler averted his gaze, clearly embarrassed at having interrupted their intimate moment.

"I'll be there shortly," Gilbert said, his voice clipped with irritation. He gave Beatrice a quick, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry princess, you need to wait," she kissed her on the temple. 

He then stood up and followed the butler out of the room, leaving her alone and embarrassed. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Especially with the butler having seen her in such an intimate position! The embarrassment was almost unbearable, and she could feel her cheeks burning red with shame.

… 

As the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, Beatrice wandered through the dimly lit halls of Gilbert's mansion. Gilbert, the second son of Baron Boleyn, was not known to frequent noble social circles in the capital, and this made Beatrice all the more curious.

Despite the unassuming appearance of the mansion, it was evident that the family was well-off, with antique furnishings and paintings adorning the walls.

"Then why did he become a priest?" Beatrice asked herself, her footsteps echoing through the quiet halls. While being a priest was considered an honorable profession in society, it was still uncommon for descendants of noble families to become priests.

She found it weird, and she then decided to search for information about Gilbert and his family lineage in the library, hoping to find answers to her questions.

…

The library was a cozy and dimly lit room, with numerous bookshelves lining the walls and a warm fireplace crackling in the corner. Despite its small size, the library had a second floor to accommodate its vast collection of books. The second floor was open and provided a view of the entire room.

As Beatrice's eyes scanned the dusty shelves, her fingertips tracing the spines of old, forgotten books, she spotted a curious tome with a foreboding cover. It was a Solariel statue, but twisted and contorted, its once serene face now twisted in agony. 

The image sent a chill down her spine as if the cold fingers of death had just brushed against her skin. She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity won over her and she reached for the book.

As she held it in her hands, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The chains that encircled the statue seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy as if they were alive and yearning to break free. Her heart raced in her chest, as she struggled to comprehend the meaning of the eerie image before her.

"What kind of book is this? Why is it here?" she asked herself, confused and alarmed.

But before she could delve further into her thoughts, a hand patted her shoulder. She spun around her heart in her throat, only to see the head butler, Vincent, standing behind her. Her grip on the book tightened, as she tried to hide it from his prying eyes.

Vincent arched an eyebrow, his gaze piercing Beatrice's. There was a subtle shift in his demeanor that sent a shiver down her spine. "Is there something you require, Lady?" he inquired in a cordial tone, yet there was an underlying menace in his voice that she couldn't quite a place.

"Oh, no, not at all," Beatrice murmured nervously, her eyes darting around the dimly lit library. "I was just perusing the family lineage of the Boleyn."

Vincent remained silent for a moment, studying her with an intensity that made her squirm. "I'm afraid you've stumbled upon the wrong section, lady," he said at last, still wearing that unsettling grin. "May I take a look at the book you were examining?"

Beatrice's hand trembled as she returned the book to its rightful place on the shelf. "What book?" she said, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Vincent's smile widened into a smirk, and he took a step closer to her. "You know, Miss Beatrice," he said. His voice is now a low growl. "Some books are better left unopened."

As he spoke, he reached out and traced his finger along the spines of the books on the shelf, making her shiver. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a nearby chair, as Vincent continued to study her with an unnerving gaze.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone laced with warning. "Be careful what you seek in the library, Lady. There are secrets hidden within these walls that are better left undiscovered." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Beatrice alone in the gloomy silence of the library.

Beatrice's heart raced with fear. What was he trying to imply? Was there something dangerous hidden in this library? She couldn't help but glance around nervously and decided to leave the library.

…

Beatrice sat in the parlor room, her fingers lightly tapping the ivory keys of the grand piano. The warm glow of the afternoon sun slowly faded into the dark night, casting eerie shadows across the room. 

Despite the cozy fireplace crackling nearby, a chill still ran through her spine, and her thoughts wandered to the ominous tome she had found in Gilbert's library.

The more she thought about it, the more her doubts about him grew. The butler's warning about the book only added to her unease. "What secrets was Gilbert hiding?" she asked herself. His past seemed shrouded in mystery, and his behavior toward her was both charming and unsettling.

She wondered if Gilbert knew about the book and what kind of power it held. It was clear that there was something sinister at play, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Her mind raced with questions, and she felt like she was on the edge of a dangerous precipice.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that there was more to Gilbert than meets the eye. Despite his status as an honored priest, his actions didn't seem to align with his supposed devotion. His affair with her was proof of that.

As she thought about his behavior, doubt crept in, like a sinister whisper in her ear. "Was he hiding something from me? Did he have ulterior motives for pursuing me? And what was the terrifying tome in his library? Did he have any connection to it?" she thought to herself.

It was not impossible, but what if he was the– 

Before Beatrice could continue deeper into her mind, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close into a warm embrace. She could feel his hot breath at the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. It was Gilbert.

Beatrice turned her head and their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. With a subtle movement of his hand, Gilbert traced the curve of her hip, sending a wave of desire through her. She leaned back into his chest, allowing herself to be consumed by the flames of their desire. 

"Gilbert, I was just thinking about you," Beatrice said with a small smile. She couldn't stop thinking about how suspicious he was.

"I know," Gilbert whispered into her ear, his lips grazing her skin, causing her to shudder. "I couldn't stay away from you any longer."

Beatrice was torn between her desire and her fear. She couldn't resist the lure of his voice, the way he whispered to her in the darkness. It was as if he could read her mind and knew all her deepest desires. 

Her body responded to his touch, her skin tingling with excitement. But at the same time, she couldn't shake off the feeling that he was dangerous, that he had a dark agenda that she couldn't comprehend.

As much as Beatrice was drawn to Gilbert's voice and desires, a sense of unease crept up on her. She couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more to him than he let on. She knew she had to be brave and ask him about his intentions.

But what if Gilbert turned out to be the man from her nightmares, the one who chased her down and filled her with terror?

"Gilbert," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I want to know more about you. What drives you, what makes you who you are." She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I feel like there's so much more to you than what meets the eye."

Gilbert turned around to face him. His eyes were dark. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Once you do, there will be no going back."