CHAPTER 82: THE DEVIL’S FUN

The air in the lounge was thick with silence.

André and Vivienne were still there. Still on that same damn chaise, like their bodies had been glued to it by fate or some evil curse. Neither of them moved. Neither of them even breathed too loudly. It was so quiet that even the clock on the wall sounded like it was screaming at them to do something.

Their eyes were locked. Completely locked.

And for a minute, it felt like three entire months passed.

Vivienne’s mind started yelling first.

Why the fuck is he looking at me like that? What is wrong with his face? Stop staring at me like you’re in love, you idiot. You look like a starving puppy. Look away, Vivienne. Look away, you lovesick useless idiot.

But she couldn’t. Her eyes refused to obey. Her stupid body just sat there, frozen, staring at him.

Then André spoke softly. "Why are you looking at me like that, Vivienne?"

His voice was calm, deep, too gentle for her liking.

Before she could even answer, he leaned forward slightly. His lips brushed hers so lightly that it almost wasn’t a kiss at all. Then he whispered, "Do you want us to make love this morning too?"

Vivienne shot up from the chaise like someone had poured boiling water down her back. Her face twisted for a second with pure disgust, but she caught herself just in time. She forced a blush, even managed a shy giggle that sounded like death itself.

"You are so naughty, my lord," she said sweetly.

Inside, though, her mind was screaming.

Naughty? He’s a lunatic. A madman. An obsessed idiot. A stupid romantic goat. Why does he talk like that? I wish he’d fall into a pit of broken glass. I wish he’d drown in wine. Or get crushed by his own stupid chandelier. Or die in a stampede of rabbits. Anything. Just die beautifully and silently.

André chuckled quietly, amused. His eyes softened like she’d just said something lovely instead of hiding murder behind her smile.

He ran his fingers through his hair and said, "Let us get dressed. I already have some fun activities planned for today."

Vivienne smiled. Oh, it was a smile that could win medals in pretending.

"Really?" she said in the sweetest tone imaginable.

But in her head, she was screaming again.

Fun activities. Oh yes, here we go. Every time this bastard says the word fun, I end up naked, missing a corset, and probably hanging off some furniture. His idea of fun means my underwear disappears and his cock ends up somewhere it shouldn’t. This man is sick. He is evil. He is sex with legs and madness for a soul.

André stood and began dressing. His movements were calm, careful, infuriatingly elegant. He looked like a painting. His hair was messy but perfect. Even the way he buttoned his shirt annoyed her.

Vivienne sat there pretending to be shy, pretending to blush, pretending to be so in love she could barely move. Inside, she was thinking, I hate you. I hate you so much I could scream your name and break this mirror. But I can’t. Because you’re the key to that vault. You rich, deranged bastard.

André turned to her. "Come here," he said gently.

She smiled again, fake and lovely. "Oh, my lord, you spoil me."

Then she stood, slowly, pretending her knees were weak. In truth, she wanted to kick him in the shin.

He helped her get dressed, like a doting husband. He laced her petticoats, fastened the ribbons, and tugged her sleeves into place. Then he leaned down and kissed her neck. Slow. Soft. Too intimate. Vivienne’s entire body went stiff. Her heart didn’t even know what to do anymore—it just screamed.

Then he kissed her hand, his lips brushing over her fingers gently. He looked at her like she was something precious.

Inside, she wanted to die.

André smiled sweetly, clearly pleased. Then he turned away to finish dressing. Vivienne watched, her face blank but her brain cursing like a sailor.

Please, God, let his fun activity today be something normal. Like reading. Or napping. Or even self-immolation. Anything that does not involve me naked in the dining again. Please, God, not the stables too. If not I will end up half-naked on a horse saddle. I swear this man’s definition of fun belongs in hell.

She sighed quietly, keeping her fake smile alive as she adjusted her skirt. Endure, Vivienne. Just endure the madness. You have two more weeks before the month ends. Two more weeks to find that vault. Two more weeks to survive this man without stabbing him. You can do this.

André was already watching her again. His smile was calm, tender, and slightly mocking. His eyes dark, but his voice sweet. "You are quiet today," he said.

Vivienne turned her head and smiled sweetly. "Just tired, my lord."

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You are always tired after a night with me."

Her fake laugh burst out instantly. It was the most forced giggle in history.

"Haha. You are impossible," she said, pretending to blush again.

Inside, her thoughts were exploding.

Impossible? You are impossible, yes. Impossible to tolerate, impossible to kill, impossible to get rid of. I swear, if I don’t find that vault soon, I’ll stab you with your seal opener. Right in those stupid pretty eyes of yours. I hate that your eyes are that blue. Who the fuck gave you permission to look like that?

André smiled, clearly amused by her forced laughter. He stepped back, finishing the last button on his vest, and said, "We should eat breakfast soon. I want to show you something afterward."

Vivienne nodded sweetly. "Of course, my lord."

But in her head, she was still praying. Please don’t let it be another one of your little surprises. If he says ’I have a surprise for you,’ I’ll faint. I’ll drop dead. I’ll set this whole chateau on fire and blame it on the cat.

She looked at him again and forced another soft smile. He smiled back, all charm and perfection, but his mind was not peaceful either.

André watched her every little movement. The way she avoided his gaze. The way she smiled with too much sweetness. The way her hands fidgeted with her dress like she was holding something back. His lips curved slightly, and he thought, Your month is almost over, my little thief. Two more weeks. Two more weeks until you unravel completely in my hands.

Vivienne turned away, missing the way he looked at her. Her smile stayed on her face, but her chest burned. She didn’t know why. Maybe anger. Maybe disgust. Maybe something else she refused to name.

The silence between them returned, thick and heavy, but neither of them broke it. They just stood there, pretending to be lovers, pretending that morning meant nothing, pretending their thoughts weren’t a storm of madness and plans.

Outside, the sun shone through the tall windows, soft and golden, like the world itself was mocking them. The servants’ footsteps echoed faintly down the hall, calm and rhythmic, so opposite to the chaos inside the room.

Vivienne adjusted her gloves, her smile sharp and fake.

André slipped on his ring, his eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction.

Both of them knew the same truth—they were each other’s disease.

He was her cage. She was his obsession.

And yet, both of them smiled as if they were in love.

To be continued.