Chapter 31

"Olivier? Are you listening, Olivier?"

"What?" I awoke from my reverie, embarrassed that I had been thinking about what had happened the day before.

"Are you all right? You're not your true self. I don't recognize you. Did your time away from university have an impact on you?" Ethan was looking at me with a worried expression on his face.

"No... No... No..." I frowned, blinking a few times to distract myself from what had happened between me and my husband the day before.

"Yes, I see it perfectly," Ethan said, his lips curled.

"Sorry about that, Ethan. I sincerely apologize. I was just listening to you..." I tried to think of an excuse.

"I think you should end your relationship," Ethan said, sipping the juice from the carton.

"W..? Why?" I frowned again, a pang of embarrassment deep within me.

"Take a look at yourself!" He remarked, resentfully shaking his head. "After spending some time together, you always have your head in the clouds. I'm confused; does he really have that much of an impact on you? What is it? His perfect skills in bed or something more? Wait! No way... Do you have feelings for him?!"

"Wha..?! NO!" I stood up, the heat on my cheeks rising as I recalled all the sex scenes in my head.

'Shit! When I try to remember anything from our latest night together, my stupid brain fails me! But it's always there when it's not needed!'

"Hi, guys," I heard a familiar voice say from behind me. "How are you?"

It was Nilan. He was tired and frustrated, and his face was drawn. I sat down sharply, feeling guilty about distracting myself with Jane and... Well, Ranold, during my heat and yesterday.

"How are you?" I asked quietly.

"OK," Nilan said.

Ethan could only roll his eyes. There was a deafening silence at the table.

"We need to talk about something," Nilan finally said. "Let's meet at four o'clock at the library."

He then abandoned us. Ethan followed him. And I was left alone at the canteen table. Did this imply that something bad had occurred? I had no idea. But I was convinced that Ranold Hamilton could devastate not only my personal life, but also my social life. And, in some ways, those of my friends. I convinced myself that nothing bad had occurred. And I went to the library, my heart heavy. Going there and knowing that my friends might turn their backs on me was truly unbearable.

When I entered our section, there was only Nilan. He was engrossed in a book. The library was unusually quiet. It's much quieter than usual. I sat across from Nilan on the chair and looked around.

"Hi," he said quietly to me.

"Hi," I said, nodding slightly.

It was a promising start. After a few moments, Ethan approached us, sitting at the round table between me and Nilan.

"That day," Nilan began. "During the Halloween party. Do you remember what happened?"

"No," I said quietly.

I couldn't believe I was deceiving my friends.

"The wanted dealer was killed. And not just as an ordinary jerk somewhere outside, but in the midst of a dancing crowd. Do you know anything about it?" Nilan gave me a look.

"No," I said flatly, looking him in the eyes, despite the fact that my entire being was screaming at me to tell the truth.

"OK," Nilan said, nodding. "Then I suppose we don't have a choice. What were you doing on October 31st evening?"

"Is this an interrogation? I don't get it, "I turned to face Ethan.

"Just answer, Olivier," Ethan said quietly as he looked at me.

"I had a heat that evening and don't remember much. I only remember dancing in the crowd and then returning home," I replied, grabbing my head with my hands, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

"As I had thought," Nilan's tone softened.

"Olivier..." Ethan pity-patted my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable," Nilan apologized. "We only needed to state the obvious. We discovered a body on the floor as the crowd began to flee. We secured the scene and interviewed witnesses, but no one knew anything. According to the forensic medical examination, the dealer was killed with a large-caliber weapon. Hungarian Gepard, we believe, but we are not certain."

I suddenly remembered the Harley Davidson Gepard I saw on our first meeting with Anastasia.

"Ethan and I had no idea what was going on. We were too far away from the crime scene, and we hoped you had information. We knew Ranold Hamilton was there, so we assumed he either killed him himself or hired a professional killer."

"Who would have thought he'd turn out to be such a jerk?" Ethan stated thoughtfully. "But, Olivier, tell us honestly, your boyfriend is somehow connected to the mafia?"

"Ethan," Nilan said solemnly.

"What? If that's the case, he's in danger and we need to help him..." Ethan started, but I interrupted him with a short "yes".

I couldn't say much else, but I could tell them that.

"So he was there that night as well?" Nilan asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes," I nodded a few times, tears streaming down my cheeks and my hands covering my face. "I couldn't remember much. He took me home after I felt heat all over my body. I apologize. I'm truly sorry."

"Olivier," Ethan patted my shoulder before moving in closer to hug me by the shoulders.

"This complicates things," Nilan pointed out. "I'm sure they have some sort of leverage over you. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I don't know the whole story, but trying to figure it out could be dangerous. Let's leave it at that for the time being. I believe we will soon be able to determine what to do with all of this."

Nilan went first. Then Ethan went home. And I was left in the library alone. My eyes were no longer dripping. And I was sitting in prostration, thinking about what I had done, when my phone rang.

"Yes?" I said, my voice trembling.

"Olivier?" It was Ranold. "Is everything fine?"

"Yes," I said as I wiped my eyes again.

"I'll meet you near the entrance. Come on in," he ended the call, and I had no choice but to leave because otherwise he would come to take me, and I didn't want anyone to know Ranold Hamilton was my husband.

I sat in the car, surprised that he had decided to pick me up by himself.

"Are you okay?" He asked, placing his hand on my knee.

"Yes," I replied, turning to face the window.

The car began to move. We did not return home. Instead, we went to a quiet residential neighborhood in New Orleans. I was surprised to see detached houses instead of large glass office buildings. We came to a halt near one of the houses. It had small windows, a garden, and a beautiful terrace. The design was simple, and the colors were brown in varying shades ranging from light to dark. It was a two-story house that I liked.

'I wish I could live there,' I thought as Ranold led me to the door. 'Perhaps we're here to see someone. I'm curious who it is.'

"This is our new home," my husband said, handing me a plastic card as we came to a halt right next to the front door. "It has an electronic door lock and facial recognition. When you insert the card into the lock, the system recognizes your face and grants you access to the inside. Like that."

He inserted the card into a metal lock on the door and peered through a peephole. The door opened with a peep.

"If you lose your card, you will be unable to approach the house."

I took the card and placed it in my jeans pocket. The air smelled like fresh plaster, primer, and paint. I got high by sucking air with my nose.

"There are still some unpacked items, so..." my husband instructed me to follow him. "That's where the kitchen is."

We entered a large room. I couldn't believe it was my new home. I couldn't believe I'd be living there. Everything was made of white marble stained with gray. It was all white. Unlike our previous residence. The kitchen was all shiny and had no handles. An oval oblong table covered in packaging board sat in the center of the room. Transparent film was used to cover the chairs. Ranold was speaking to me about the second floor, the bathroom, the bedroom, and the living room, but I couldn't hear him. I was admiring the light curtains fluttering in front of the large glass door leading to the garden. I touched the table.

'It should be white, too,' I thought as I moved around, following my husband.

"Olivier," I realized as I was trapped between him and the table, his hand on my lower back.

"M-mm?" I looked up at him, unconsciously hugging his shoulders, only to see the light and clench his shirt, attempting to take a step back.

But he only lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. I'm sure I bit my lower lip until the very end. I was hesitant to kiss him. But as soon as I felt the warmth of his kiss, I opened my mouth and let him kiss me. It was a short, gentle kiss. Too brief. I opened my eyes, surprised that he had stopped. Did I wish for more? No. I remember clenching his shirt as he kissed me again, this time with his tongue. I caught a whiff of something sweet and unintentionally followed him after he moved away.

"Olivier," he said near my ear as he sat me on the table and raised my leg to his chest, making me rest my elbows against the surface.

His fingers slid beneath my flared jeans, and his lips rested on my ankle. I shivered as his hands slid deeper beneath the fabric, exposing my bare skin. He kissed my sensitive skin and gently caressed my calf. I was baffled. I was embarrassed.

"Why..." I squeaked as I felt his hands go up my thigh, making me tremble. "Why is it always my legs?"

"What?" My husband only laughed briefly before slowly raising the fabric and exposing my skin. "Because they are stunning. The height, shape, and size. I adore them. That's why I want to reach out and touch them whenever I see you."

"What?!" When he leaned in to kiss me, I was bewildered, but we were unexpectedly interrupted.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mr Hamilton," I heard a woman's voice and jumped out of the table, fixing my jeans and planning to flee into the garden, when my husband grabbed my arm, pulling me to himself, and I had no choice but to turn around to see a beautiful woman.

She appeared to be strong. She had a pumped body and a very masculine appearance. She had two braids, broad shoulders, and huge legs. She was also dressed in a pink dress with a white apron and held a feather duster.

"This is our new maid," Ranold explained. "She will assist you in taking care of the house. Her name is Bethany. This is Olivier, my husband."

His hand slid down my waist and rested on my lower back. I crossed my hands across my chest. I didn't know why, but I wanted his hand to be there, even though it had just patted my leg.