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1393 Words
"Where do we go..uhm madame?" The driver, Alec asked, his voice small and unsure. He couldn't believe his shitty luck that he just had to be the driver in duty and was assigned to chauffeur the once esteemed Madame Moretti, now cast out of her own home like a common vagabond.
The scandal had spread through the servants like wildfire the moment Henri Delarney brought home that woman, heavy with his illegitimate child. It wasn't a secret to the staff that the Master was involved in all sorts of affairs, but the Madame had been blind to her husband's infidelities, and none dared to be the ones to disclose it for fear of invoking her wrath. They hadn't ever thought the Master would bring one of his harlots home though, especially one very heavily pregnant with his seed.
Poor madame, he thought, sneaking a peek at her through the rearview mirror. Aria sat in the back seat still as a statue, her eyes red and swollen and an aghast look still frozen on her face. She was a ghost of her former self, her once regal countenance marred by tears and despair. She seemed to still be deep in shock, her hands clutching a small suitcase, everything she had managed to gather before leaving the house that was no longer her home.
Alec's heart ached for her slightly. It wasn't like she particularly went out of her way to be nice to the servants, but she was fair and respectful, and was meticulous in household affairs, which endeared her to many of the staff. And now, here she was, cast out like yesterday's refuse.
He was truly sad to see her go, but really he still wished he wasn't the one having to chauffeur her. It didn't concern him all that much who was the madame of the house, as long as he got his wages and bonuses, he would keep his head down and do his job. But seeing Aria in such a vulnerable and broken state, he couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy.
"Madame?" He prompted again when they went another round around the roundabout.
"Uhm?" Aria finally snapped out of her trance, and looked up at him still slow in reacting, her gaze vacant and hollow. Then as though she finally registered his question, she blinked back tears, "I-I don't know," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the engine. "Just... take me away from here. Anywhere."
There was nowhere for her to go. Sure she could also go back to the Moretti house, but the thought of facing her family, of confessing her shame and humiliation, was unbearable. She still hadn't come to terms with it herself, so how could she? And she had no trustworthy friends that wouldn't betray her by leaking her news to the gossip-hungry society.
And quite frankly, she didn't want to be around anyone right now. Didn't feel like being the object of anybody's sympathy. No, she didn't want to pacified or empathized with just yet. She wanted to be alone with her pain.
She wanted to remember this feeling. She wanted to revel in her anger, to let it consume her until she was nothing but a vessel of vengeance. She wanted to remember the shame and the embarrassment, the betrayal and the dishonor, She wanted to let it fester and boil within her, fueling the flames of her desire for revenge. Every tear shed, every sleepless night, every moment of despair would serve as a reminder of what Henri had done to her.
Alec took matters into his own hands and decided to drop her off at a hotel she usually frequented. And as they pulled up to the hotel, Aria wiped away her tears and composed herself as best as she could. She thanked him softly before stepping out of the car, her legs shaky beneath her. With a heavy heart, Alec watched her disappear into the lobby, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him.
Once inside, Aria approached the front desk with a forced smile, her hands trembling as she handed over her credit card. "Could you check me in, please?" she asked the receptionist, her voice barely above a whisper. The receptionist nodded sympathetically, her eyes lingering on Aria's tear-streaked face. Ahh, so even the rich could despair this much, she thought as she attended to her with a smile.
As Alec handled the check-in process, Aria's mind raced with thoughts of revenge. She wanted to hurt Henri as he had hurt her—to make him feel the same agony and despair that she was feeling. But beneath the anger and resentment, there was a part of her that longed for closure—for a way to move on from this nightmare. She ignored that part of course. The closure she needed was seeing everything Henri Delarney was and everything he stood for crumble to the ground, crumble to nothingness. Like the insignificant man he was before he met her.
But enough of that, all she could think about now, was drowning her sorrows in a stiff drink. With her room key in hand, Aria made her way to the hotel bar, her steps heavy with exhaustion and pain. She didn't care about the stares she received from the other patrons—didn't care about anything except the burning desire to numb the ache in her heart. She already knew before dawn tomorrow, high society would've gotten the news about what happened to her, and she would be the laughing stock of their gossip circles, and so she didn't care about the image she presented to them now. To hell with them.
Sliding onto a barstool, Aria ordered the strongest drink the bartender had to offer, her mind consumed by thoughts of Henri and the woman who had stolen him from her. That b***h, after she invited them to their home. She really wanted to forget—wanted to lose herself in the haze of alcohol and oblivion. But deep down, she knew that no amount of liquor could erase the pain of betrayal.
As the bartender poured her drink, Aria's thoughts spiraled deeper into despair. She drank and drank, the fiery liquid burning its way down her throat, yet failing to extinguish the flames of anger and humiliation that consumed her soul. With each sip, she felt herself slipping further into a haze of delirium, the world around her becoming blurry and indistinct. But she just couldn't forget. Their intimacy, their gestures, her mockery and his insults. Everything was just so fresh in her mind, that no amount of liquor could seem to erase it. But that didn't stop her from trying.
Leaning heavily against the bar, her words slurred and her mind clouded with pain, she looked up at the bartender. "I'll have another," she mumbled, gesturing vaguely to her empty glass. "And make it a double this time."
The bartender hesitated for a moment, concern flickering in his eyes, but he complied with her request, pouring her another generous measure of alcohol. He reached over to give her and just as she was about to collect the glass, it was swiftly snatched away from her grasp. Startled, Aria turned angrily to confront the intruder, but her vision blurred at the sudden movement. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the world seemed to spin around her.
Then, through the haze of alcohol-induced confusion, she heard a voice..a deep, husky voice that sent a shiver down her spine. "Whiskey? Who would've thought the elegant Aria Moretti was such a heavy drinker." the voice said, dripping with a mixture of amusement and mockery.
"And who the hell are you?" She slurred out, trying to make out the blurry image of the tall man in front of her.
"You wound me," he chuckled. "I at least thought we could be considered acquaintances."
As the man's words sank in, Aria felt a tinge of familiarity wash over her. But it couldn't be. Squeezed her eyes shut in a long slow blink, she reopened her eyes, relieved to find her eyesight back. And then, she finally looked up from the man's impeccable black suit, only for her breath to hitch when she locked eyes with the familiar striking face standing before her.
..Sebastian Beau Leclair
- Writer
