Félix's house was undoubtedly bigger than mine. It had two floors and, contrary to what I had thought, it was quite organized. Older investigators surely had privileges. I sighed, wondering when I might have all of this. Not that I wanted luxuries—I was content living comfortably without paying rent.
— I imagined it would be more disorganized. — I walked up the stairs beside Félix. He was taking me to the guest room, even though I had suggested in the carriage that we could sleep together in the master bedroom. The idea clearly didn't please him; he hadn't even dignified it with a response, only an annoyed grunt. I noticed that the guest room walls had been freshly painted; the green hue calmed me. There were heavy curtains on the window, a single bed, and a wardrobe—I could start organizing myself. I didn't expect we'd skip several stages of a relationship; who would've thought we were already living together.
— Lucy cleans for me. Four times a week. — the man commented.
The room was airy, the warmth from the fireplace heated the whole house, so there'd be no problem with cold in severe days—unlike my old room.
— Good night. — He left in a hurry, and I only heard the sound of the door closing. I stared at the spot where Eric had been moments earlier. There would be enough opportunities to try something; at that moment, I just wanted to rest after the whirlwind I'd been through. I threw myself onto the bed. That place made me feel safe, especially knowing that Félix was in the room across the hall. When would he change his mind about having me as his partner? Obviously, he still hesitated, but it wasn't worrying—I'd make him want to work by my side.
I slept a dreamless night, but the warm sensation on my lips returned. Yet when I opened my eyes, there was nothing. Seeing that room reminded me where I was. I changed clothes and went downstairs, only to find a beautiful breakfast. Eric was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, eating toast, and drinking his black coffee—a flavor I'd never particularly liked; I preferred tea.
— Good morning. —
The taller man didn't bother lowering the newspaper to respond. That irritated me, but I sat down and served myself. I couldn't understand Félix. Honestly, at one moment he was protective; the next, grumpy and cold.
— Don't take too long; we're going straight to Stan's mansion. —
The harsh tone confirmed his bad mood. Why wasn't he acting like in the previous days? I missed the kind Eric, even if I'd had less than five minutes of that version.
— Yes, sir. — I hoped he could feel all my sarcasm. I ate quickly as instructed, even though he remained at his slow, relaxed pace. However, when I finished, he set the newspaper aside and stood up. The carriage was ready to take us to Stan's mansion.
— Do you think we'll manage to find something? — I asked while looking at the crowded streets and the smoke rising from the factories and bakery ovens. Trains passed by full of workers crammed together, ready for their long shifts, often ending late at night. Besides the early dirt, the city was filthy, but that wasn't as bothersome when walking beside the person I was falling for.
— Just stress. — Félix muttered through clenched teeth.
That's what I thought—useless. "Yes, I'm guilty of smuggling illegal opium to China without the Queen's permission." Maybe we'd hear such a confession. Even if we didn't discover anything significant, we had to analyze Stan's behavior. I hoped he was the type who couldn't lie. Haha.
There was a huge wall that reminded me of the mansion where I used to live—vines sprawling across its entire length and an imposing iron-and-wood gate. We waited until we were allowed in; the carriage proceeded down the path. The garden was enviable, beautiful and always trimmed. The mansion was equally stunning. I wasn't surprised—living with someone possessing such wealth had made me accustomed to these luxuries, even if they no longer belonged to me—they never truly did.
Upon entering, we were guided by the mansion's butler to the lord's office. The room was filled with shelves containing a wide variety of books. Behind the desk, a large window showcased the beautiful garden. The desk itself was polished wood, possibly mahogany, and seated in the well-upholstered chair was a man dressed impeccably. He seemed around 50 years old, completely white hair, dull blue eyes, his posture elegant and pompous. There was nothing ugly about that man's image.
— Sit down. —
It wasn't a request; I recognized someone who commanded simply by tone. Stan seemed like the typical domineering man. We both sat; there was no reason to stand.
— Investigator Félix, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?
— You know very well, Mr. Stan. —
I was sure that being formal with someone undeserving irritated Eric deeply, but he seemed to make an effort.
— We captured Bartolomeu Crow, and he stated that he stole the drugs from your illegal shipments.
— Pardon me, Félix, but there's nothing illegal about my shipments. They're spices I export to China, along with various ceramics. —
Stan appeared calm as he sipped imported wine.
— You can't prove I'm involved just because an irresponsible subordinate decided to dedicate his life to illegal business.
— And where do you think that illegal business came from?! The damn false bottoms in your goods! —
I was sure a vein was pulsing on Eric's temple. I stared at him; I had never seen him so angry. I thought he'd explode, considering how hard he was trying to contain himself. He didn't seem like the type of man who could hold back for long. I gently held his arm, reminding him of where we were.
— Can you prove it? If so, I'll accompany you to the police station. —
The last sip of wine marked the end of our friendly conversation. Félix stood and looked at Stan defiantly.
— I'll personally inspect all your ships, one by one, and we'll see about you accompanying me to the station. —
Eric left, intoxicated by hatred. He seemed ready to break Stan's arrogant nose, but the little common sense he had left stopped him from lunging at the man.
— Nathan Blauth. —
Before I could follow the investigator, the elder's voice caught my attention. I couldn't help but look at him, with that nerve-wracking smile.
— You are everything your master says you are... Charming and irresistible.
— I don't have a master. — I said firmly and confidently.
I knew exactly whom that man was referring to, but I'd never allow anyone to mold me, not even him.
— Oh, but you do... and you'll see him again soon. Enjoy your little investigator game while it lasts. It won't be long before he comes for you. Be prepared—a corset would suit the occasion better. —
Words meant to shake me emotionally—and they did. My face surely paled; I couldn't respond to such an affront. I had to leave and go to the garden to breathe.
Eric was already in the carriage waiting for me, his glare deadly, so I didn't delay and got in immediately. The whole way back was silent; there was no way to keep a conversation, especially with the sound of his teeth grinding, showing his fury through his gaze. I preferred to refrain from any more provocations.
In the days that followed, we inspected Stan's ships and their cargo, one by one, without any success. Félix's mood worsened by the day that week. I preferred not to make any advances when we returned home. There was no atmosphere for that, even if I desired it; that man seemed more distant and focused on the case. At least the best news was that his shoulder had almost completely healed.
It was close to 10 p.m. when we were returning home, two days before the event at the brothel. Dorothea had contacted us, saying our names were on the list—that softened Félix's frown that had lasted so long. Before we entered the house to rest, the investigator stopped, making me look at him curiously.
— I'm going out with some friends. I'll be back before dawn. Keep everything locked. —
I wanted to ask to go with him, but I thought Félix deserved this moment alone, so I did as he told me. Lucy had everything arranged, and dinner was ready on the table. I thought the maid would be old and unattractive, but she was the complete opposite—young, beautiful, red-haired, and mute. It was hard to communicate when you didn't understand sign language, though she seemed to understand Félix's requests perfectly, at least by reading his lips.
I threw myself onto the bed after a bath and noticed it was still raining. Would he be long? It was lonely being without his presence, but I couldn't stay awake much longer—I was exhausted and soon fell asleep, lulled by sleep.
In the middle of the night, I felt something warm and soft on my lips—it had become a recurring sensation, though this time it lingered. I slowly opened my eyes to see Eric above me. At first, I thought it was some vivid, erotic dream, but the taste of strong liquor on his lips said otherwise. I gently pushed him to breathe, raising my body slightly.
— What are you doing?! —
It wasn't the time to act like some naive virgin, but I didn't want advances from Eric altered by alcohol—I knew it gave him the courage he needed. As if he hadn't heard me, he began unbuttoning my shirt hastily, some buttons tearing with his rough movements. I started to get nervous and tried to push him again, but he'd always been the stronger of the two, and his shoulder wasn't hindering him anymore. He pinned my arms above my head, gripping my wrists tighter than necessary, my chest exposed and vulnerable.
— Isn't this what you wanted?! Why fight now? —
Félix leaned in and bit my neck hard, drawing a gasp from me.
— See, you like it. There's no reason to fight. —
The smell of alcohol and the determination in his eyes made me want to surrender... yet not like this.
— You're drunk, Félix... You'll regret what you're doing. — I said urgently, afraid he'd hate me and never look me in the eyes again. Besides, I wanted him sober for our first time—the real investigator. Us, enjoying each other's bodies and satisfaction, without alcohol interfering.
— Let me have you, Nathan. —
He whispered these words in my ear; my heart skipped, and I completely melted. I couldn't resist, especially with him saying my first name in such a seductive way.
— Good boy. —
He said this as I stopped struggling and let him kiss me. I returned it with the same ardor, all the desire I'd accumulated over the years, wanting only Félix.
The rest was a blur of touches, whispers, and mutual surrender. We allowed ourselves to be carried by the storm of emotions, the accumulated frustration, and long-held longing.
Afterward, Eric lay on top of me, kissing my lips once more. I couldn't forget the bitter taste of liquor in his mouth, marking the reckless nature of what had just happened. Object... I ignored that word and let myself be carried by exhaustion. We had finally done it, though it was nothing like I had imagined. But... I figured we'd have other opportunities to be together after this.