Free The Key (Sanguinem Emere) by Carmen Taxer

however, stands just to Dimitri’s right, his hand coiled around hers. On her face she wears a small covering of concern as her eyes follow my every move, hidden behind her mask of bliss. The same visage that made me want to punch her in the kitchen before it was decided that I be drugged.
    Behind Dimitri’s chair, in a corner of the library somewhat darker and more foreboding than the others stands a plump, stern-looking woman with auburn hair pulled back from her face in a severe bun, wearing a charcoal power-suit. She glares at me with the same startling dislike as I bestowed on Levi and I find myself instantly put off-balance. Her slightly pouting, plum-smeared lips smile eagerly upon seeing my discomfort. She must be a lawyer or a school mistress. Only two such people can succeed in conveying petty dislike and pity all at once.
    “Sit, Eva,” Dimitri asks me gently and I find my legs willingly bending at his words as I perch on the edge of a seat in front of him.
    He stands, much to the dismay of Cecily whose brow furrows unhappily as she lifts her head and cradles the edge of the armchair. Delilah seems poised to lift his fingers to her lips, but stops herself and settles back into a posture of comfort for her; one foot slightly elevated behind the other. I staunch the hiss of denial at her doting behaviour as it almost exits my lips.
    As he passes my seat I find myself leaning towards him marginally as well, as though waiting for a sign of his approval. When he passes by me with hardly a glance I fold my hands in my lap nervously, fearful of what this may entail.
    I have become one of those women.
    “I believe you have not met Melinda,” he motions with his hand to the angry woman who responds with a simple nod, “Miss Von Hagt is my legal advisor and a member of this household as are Cecily and Delilah, and now you. I take your still being here to mean you are accepting my hospitality, yes?”
    He turns to me and smiles again. Instantaneously I feel my fingers release each other from their treacherous knot, like a spring, as calm sinks into my belly. “Every girl in my house has a purpose. You see, Cecily and Delilah serve as my social butterflies,” He strokes Delilah’s cheek lovingly as he passes her by. “But you will be my social liaison. You will use your wiles with the media to uphold my relatively untarnished reputation. Melinda has been overworked of late, keeping my name clean in court and instilling fear into the hearts of publications who dare to run stories berating my actions.”
    Melinda seems keen to say something, but Dimitri cuts her off with a generous smile and she blushes fervently, “She may disagree, but I can see that her immaculate work has been in decline and I have only myself to blame for that.”
    Miss Von Hagt’s face blanches from the strawberries glow of a moment ago and Delilah and Cecily turn as one to throw baleful, sneering glances in her direction.
    “Melinda, you will continue working on the matter we discussed earlier. I wish to see a full report with active court dates tomorrow evening,” Melinda’s colour turns somewhat grey, but as she sees me staring, her eyes harden and that condescending hatred returns to her face, “Eva, I wish you to write me an article. I have a function in two days’ time to raise funds for those dying of hunger in Ethiopia; the article must be generous regarding my commitment to the betterment of social, living standards and a testament to my fight against poverty. That will undoubtedly repair the damage following the suicide fiasco. Of course, Reflections is just below the viewership we need, so you will be required to become somewhat of a freelancer for the next two days and increase the impact of the piece as much as possible. And I will, of course, compensate you for the piece and any other work you choose to do for me, over and above what your publication offers. Think you can manage it?”
    Not a hope in hell. “Yes, but what