Chapter 4

LISA’S POV

The first week passed quickly, living in Andre's house.

Afterwards, Andre was never at home most of the time. I knew he had a job, but I wasn't sure what it was, and he seemed so unapproachable most of the time for me to ask some questions about him.

He’d leave after breakfast, sometimes with a simple “Make sure you rest well” and sometimes he won't say nothing at all.

Stanley, the butler, still remained polite but never interested in making conversation. Having him in the house with me, still made the house very silent. He was just always present for my needs, like a bodyguard that didn’t carry a gun. He rarely spoke unless it was necessary to speak, and he always kept staring at me weirdly. I took up watching movies and dramas to pass the time.

The first week, when I still had Andre's attention, I spent my first days in boutiques.

It was a very thoughtful, kind act on Andre's part to get me new clothes. The best thing was, Andre’s card had no limit, and the stylists treated me like I was some princess.

However, I didn't enjoy my shopping experience. Every time I saw something I liked, whether jeans, tees or simple shoes, Andre would refuse to let me get them.

“Not that.”

“But…”

“It’s not the look,” he’d say, waving toward a mannequin dressed in something tight or short

He chose mini dresses and backless gowns. I wonder why he liked them so much.

He'd pick a range of mini gowns, while staring at my figure to determine my size and say, “Here. Try these on.”

Most of them had very dipping necklines. He even picked out my lingerie for me, and I felt embarrassed just holding it.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable in these,” I mumbled, holding a blood red-colored slip between my two fingers. It was too slutty for my liking.

He gave me a firm look. “They will suit you. Trust me. These are the kinds of clothes you need if you want to blend into my world.”

I said nothing. It wasn’t like I had many options.

And the worst part?

Everything he chose fits perfectly. Like it had been made just for me before I even walked into the store.

He bought me perfume.

It had a luxurious name… Rivière Noire.

When I sprayed it on my wrist, it was too floral and feminine for my taste as well.

I sniffed again and again, trying to get used to it, but I couldn't.

One afternoon, while Andre was out, I started wandering around the house.

I had been to every inch of the house. Including the pull and the garden, but never to the wing where Andre’s room was. I moved slowly in the hallway, conscious that Stanley could pop out anywhere and disorient me as he always did.

At the end of the hall, I came across two doors.

I opened the first one and knew instantly that it was Andre's room. The scent of cider, musk and aftershave that followed him was emanating from the room. I immediately backed out, feeling strange for intruding into his private space.

After all, we were not that kind of couple.

I stepped out and stared at the second door at the end of the hall. I reached for the handle.

It was locked.

I tried again and I still couldn't open it.

Then I bent down and peeped through the keyhole.

Why was this the only room locked?

What could be inside?

That was when I heard a voice behind me.

“What are you doing?”

I turned. Andre stood behind me, as I still remained on my knees peeping through the hole. His eyes looked pissed, and I felt almost unsafe at that moment.

“I was just looking around. I didn’t know…”

“You shouldn’t be here. No one comes here,” he said quietly, stepping forward.

I stood up, feeling awkward as my heart pounded in my chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

He reached around me, and caged me in the middle, with his hand placed on the door. He stared into my eyes deeply. I gasped as my heart drummed louder that I swear I could hear it.

“Don’t do that again.”

And then he walked away and left me feeling some type of way.

That night, I found him drinking in the living room.

It was the first time I had seen him drink since I moved in.

He was sitting on the edge of the couch, with his shirt sleeves folded to the elbows, and his hair not in the usual bun.

The smell of the drink hit me before I got close enough... It was whiskey.

How did I remember that?

Did I used to be an alcoholic?

So many strange possibilities came to mind randomly all the time about my past life.

I came close enough to stare at him. He looked troubled. “Did something happen?” I asked.

“No.” He didn’t look up.

He took a sip of his drink.

I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before slowly sitting across from him. We hadn't talked so much since the first day, and I couldn't tell what was on his mind.

He began staring at me, until I had no choice but to look away. He sighed and stared into the glass. “You look so much like someone I used to know.”

I swallowed. “A lady?”

He nodded, smiling.

“Was she… was she your lover?”

He remained quiet, which only confirmed my suspicions.

“Did she used to stay in that room?”

He glanced at me, like he wasn’t expecting the question. I didn't know where that came from either.

He didn’t answer. He just drank the last of his drink and held the glass loosely.

I waited, hoping he’d say more. Hoping I’d get some clue as to what was bothering him. Maybe even know the real reason why he had brought me here. Or why Stanley stared at me weirdly all the time.

But he just leaned back and closed his eyes as he rested his head resting on the couch.

He’d fallen asleep.

I walked up to him, and removed the glass in his hand, and placed it on the table.