Free The Key (Sanguinem Emere) by Carmen Taxer Page B

would not admit to be being shaken, rather she sneered and muttered a near-audible exclamation against our unwanted company. It seemed acceptable. None of us wanted her there anyway.
    We spoke for, what felt like, hours about everything, Dimitri, Melinda, and Levi. Whom they warned me about. They said I shouldn’t trust him. Apparently he has a way of getting to you at your worst.
    I’m just not sure what to think
    I remember receiving unnaturally acute glances from Delilah as Cecily made hot chocolate, brewed step-by-step in that irritatingly fastidious way she used to make it when we were little girls. My silence didn’t aid matters as the hopeful, patient expression gracing my friend’s artfully painted features became marred by the small frown which, in my eyes, is becoming a standard of her face as of the last few days. Since seeing her in this strange place.
    And then there was the bracelet Dimitri gave me. I couldn’t bear not to wear it. But the look I got from the girls really set me back. Like daggers in their eyes. Not just Melinda in the study, but Cess and Delilah gave me the same unhappy looks, perhaps not as vicious.
    It’s obvious to me the bracelet was hers.
    I couldn’t talk about it.
    About the depth of feeling that had begun to well up inside me for a man who had been a simple object of lust a night ago, and is now supposed to be the subject for a written piece. But seems to be so much more. Why am I lying to myself? He was more than that at Delilah’s party too. He has been for a while. My jealous response to the possibility of other women alone should be enough to tell me so.
    Nor could I talk about the fact that the thought of sharing him made me want to claw up Delilah’s pretty face. Nor about the incident involving my sister and Bram which now seemed that much more poignant bearing current circumstances in mind.
    It seemed staged. It still does, but now I have had time to mull things over, and a distinct calm has erased my fear and insecurity to a degree.
    Delilah is many things, but I had never believed her to be insightful until last night. She allowed me to sit still and quiet at the kitchen counter as she and Cecily took it in turns to babble away about how fortunate I am. They told me more stories about Levi and how he takes liberties with them when he can, but fears retribution from Dimitri, so neither are too directly concerned by his slithering advances. Delilah soon resembled the girl I knew (or at least I thought I did) as she threw herself back into the temptress role, flashing me evil little smiles as she attempted to pry into the details of my night alone with Dimitri.
    Cecily’s giggles of happiness soothed my shattered nerves, for the first time in six months, and at no point did I feel inclined to punch her nose into her brain.
    This chatter, with me a silent advocate, continued on until about eleven in the evening, when Delilah put a strict end to Cecily’s stream of talk and anecdotes, insisting that the next day would be far too crucial for any of us to afford exhaustion.
    I trudged up the staircase, dejected and swiftly reaching the end of my tether. I had stepped foot in this house – well actually I hadn’t – expecting certain normal events to follow. Instead I had been made privy to what felt like a massive secret and been practically drugged (granted, that part was of my own volition) and cruelly manipulated because of it. What I couldn’t understand as I walked towards the door at the end of the hallway, the one marked off as the entrance to my bedroom, was why the fact that Dimitri Kron kept a number of women as his companions was such a massive taboo. In my time as a celebrity reporter, I have encountered so many quirky stories that my sense of morality has become skewed to the point that nothing shocks me anymore. But something about this affair with Dimitri makes my skin crawl enough for me to keep my mouth shut on the matter. Of course, I would anyway.