In anticipation of the fictional romance, ‘Passions/Revelations’ upcoming release — an excerpt!

• Posted on 17th June 2013
• in Best Romance Novels, Fiction Romance Novels, Romance Drama, Romance Fiction, Romantic Fiction
• by admin

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An excerpt from Chapter 30 from the new fictional romance/drama, “Passions in Paris: Revelations of a Lost Diary”

 

 

 Chapter 30

                                          

Trivial Matters and Grave Misunderstandings

 

We rushed inside, the door slamming behind us but thankful to be out of ear-shot, not to mention vision of what we’d just left in the corridor.The room was dismal, almost dark, the only illumination being that of the streetlight’s glow from below as I nervously felt around for the light switch. Finding it, the lamps sprang to life but as they did we stood glued to the floor, gazing about in utter amazement for the once-elegant suite lay incomplete shambles.

“What’s happened here?” I asked in stunned surprise, an ominous feeling creeping up my spine.

Cullen walked freely around the room, but hesitated before inching toward the bedroom with caution. As he approached it, I couldn’t help noticing how much his right hand continuously quivered when he carefully reached toward the door frame.

“Your guess is as good as mine, darlin’. Fuck what a mess,” he said, glancing back my way. “Just wait there while I check in here,” he ordered, and disappeared inside.

“Is everything alright?” I inquired with concern for he wasn’t coming back.

“Yeah,” he answered, finally reappearing, “nothing seems out-a place in there – except the bed’s a hell of a mess. I don’t know why it’s only trashed out here. Do ya suppose someone was lookin’ for somethin’?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “I wouldn’t know what we’ve got that anybody would want, I mean, there’s not much money, and I’m sure Dean’s got all of the traveller’s checks with him, so I don’t know why it’s like this. But whoever was in here was sure doing their best to find something.”

Old habits die hard, especially when they’re the only ones you ever knew. It had always been that way for me and I didn’t look upon this situation any different, but when I bent over to pick up an overturned wastebasket Cullen inquired what I was doing.

Looking up, I replied, “What’s it look like, sweetheart? I mean, I can’t leave it like this.”

“Aren’t-cha gonna call the police?”

“Well no,” I answered rather bluntly, “I don’t want them getting involved again.” Suddenly a thought transpired, and I said, “Wonder if Mavis has somehow gotten in here. After-all it looks like something she’d stoop to.”

“Yeah,ya just might be right,” he swiftly replied, his quivering fingers rubbing his chin. “She’d be vindictive enough, but somehow I don’t think so. Anyway, darlin’, if you’re not gonna call the cops or the hotel’s security then at least ring for housekeepin’.”

“Why?” I replied, carrying on my quest for perfection. “I’m perfectly capable of straightening this mess.”

With amusement in his voice, Cullen stated, “I don’t doubt that for a second, but that’s why they have housekeepin’. Hey, ya don’t need ta do that. Here, if ya feel self-conscious about orderin’ it then I’ll do it.” The call took but a minute, then returning the receiver to its cradle, he said, “Someone will be right up, now, come here, darlin’. Let’s make the most of the time we’ve got left.”

He pulled me so close I could feel the wild anticipation in his heart, as well as his fullness as it lay throbbing against me, demanding to be noticed.

“Ooh, Cully, we haven’t got time for that now, especially if someone’s already on their way. Damn it! I want you too, there’s nothing I’d rather do, but if I’m going to get changed so we can get out of here I’d best go do it before they get here,” I said with reluctance, for I too wished we had more time.

I was just in the act of removing Finnegan’s top coat when a soft knock sounded at the door. “Wow that was fast!” I exclaimed with surprise.

“This hotel is known for their prompt service,” replied Cullen. “It’s one of the best. That’s why I chose it for you and your husband. I’ve stayed here too, and each time I was satisfied, so I was pretty sure ya would be also.” He opened the door to emptiness, for no one was in sight. “That’s funny, didn’t I hear a knock just now?” he asked inquisitively, looking around until his soulful eyes met mine.

Nodding my head, I replied, “I’m sure I heard one too. Better look out in the hall.”

As he did he briefly lost his balance and fell against the door frame. In the plight to steady himself his tobacco pouch had fallen from his pocket, and as he stooped to pick it up his breath caught in his throat, as his voice meekly cried, “No … oh no more … Please, no more . . .”

I rushed to his side, immediately noticing the ghostly paleness of his face for the colour had been drained entirely away and his breath, when he could find any, came in short spurts and his eyes were drawn to the threshold. My eyes followed the same journey his had taken and stared in horror at what they saw,for at his feet lay another white, porcelain face oozing blood upon the jacquard carpet. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it just lay there, pulsating and I swore this time it had to be alive for the blood oozing from its opened lips was so red that it had to be. I stared in awe, as if stricken with the notion it was actually breathing, while time fleeted past.

Finally reality took hold, and I uttered the well-spoken phrase, “It isn’t real, baby. It’s just another, stupid, sick face, that’s all.”

“Au contraire, not this times, Madame Wychmere, this times it is very real. Bonsoir to you both, oh oui, Monsieur Malone, it is real, and I am real also! I haves come to pays you a very special visit indeeds. Why, Culleè, what could possibly be le matters with you, hmmm? You carry le look of a person who has just to experience le footsteps of someone walking over their grave, as I haves heard it said. You actually looks as if you haves just seens a ghost! Now lets moi see, hmmm, do you possibly think it could be your own? It just might be!Now turns around, both of you and goes quietly back in le salon,” ordered an extremely sullen Philippe Robealard, as he nervously held a gun in his right hand which motioned us forward.

I could not believe this, still I turned around, but from the corner of my eye I noticed Cullen did not, but he slowly stepped backward, his eyes never leaving the gun as he watched it sway in Philippe’s slender hand as if he were watching a cobra preparing to strike. The heavy door closed with a dull thud and we heard the lock turn, but I noticed the safety chain was forgotten as it freely dangled beside the lock.

“Did someone rings for housekeeping?” squeaked Philippe’s high voice. “I see you coulds definitely use some assistance here. What has to happen, another party perhaps, hmmm?” A look, resembling that of a child caught in a falsehood crossed his face, and he nervously squealed, “Oohh I cannot tells a lie—it was moi! I did this! Oui! I created this mess – I did! And it is amazing how much a well practiced lie can prove useful when required the most. The desk-clerk actually believed moi to be part of the housekeeping staff when I told him I was a new addition. Besides, madame, you hads to change your ridiculous attire sooner or later, and creative stalking – if properly executed – cans be quite beneficial. To be truthfully honest I was already here tonight – aw late this afternoon actually – to arrange things for my reappearance now, although comes to think of it I really do believes you two haves far too many parties for your own good, but that is all about to change.”

“Oh really!” exclaimed Cullen, stepping toward the thin Frenchman.

The gun was swiftly aimed at the actor’s head, as Philippe exclaimed, “Just goes ahead to tries something stupid, Culleé, I hopes you do, for there is not a thing in this world I would rather do than puts a bullet through that pretty head of yours, so do not tries anything with moi, for you will soon comes to know I means what I say!”

“Don’t be so fuckin’ stupid, Philippe! What the hell do ya think you’re doin’ anyway? It’s been you all along, hasn’t it?” Cullen questioned, his eyes transfixed upon his aggressor.

“What are you to speak about?” Philippe asked in an aggravated tone. Steadying his bead upon his mark, he continued his reply as his voice escalated to shrieks upon chosen words of essence. “And I will haves you knows that I am far from fuckin’ stupid, as you so crudely say, and as I holds le gun, I guess that would makes moi not so stupid after all, now-would-it?”

I was terrified of what might happen, so much so my legs quivered so badly I was certain they would no longer support my weight, as I cried, “Cully, please don’t provoke him!”

Philippe executed a gaping smile then said, “You are a very wise woman indeeds, madame, for it would definitely not be a wise idea to do that.”

“What the fuck do ya want?” Cullen asked in a disgusted tone.

“My my, Monsieur Malone,” Philippe answered in a coy manner, “what a poor memory you really do haves, and to thinks my dear ami André believes you to be so very good-at-it — oh my, forgives moi s’il vous plaît! I mean to say of course in le memory work, for your films, where it is already to be written down for you.All that is required is that you reads it a louds, oui? Aw not too very difficult I would thinks … I mean they can even trains le doooog to act!”

Ignoring the snide remarks, Cullen repeated, “What the fuck do ya want?”

“Weeell, you cans be certain, Culleeeè, that it is not a fuck I wants from you!” exclaimed Philippe sidling closer, positioning the gun against his captive’ s head.

The polished steel quivered, and I knew that Philippe was far more nervous than he was letting on, but I also knew that in this state he was far more deadly, and could not be trusted. The grey barrel slid up and down the full length of Cullen’s hair as his captor watched with sheer amusement as the glossy stands fell over the gliding steel.

“What a pity,” sighed Philippe, “you should not lets this gorgeous length be cut away for your next film. It is so very fetching. It reminds moi of filming you as Paris Femme a few months back. Strangely, I think I could becomes attracted to it – even if it is you who wears it.”

“How sweet, ya twisted asshole,” Cullen replied in a surprisingly casual manner. “Now, what the hell do ya want from me?” Philippe’s agitation steadily grew and he shoved the gun ever harder against his prisoner’s head, while he screamed, “You just stops that! Just stops calling moi those horrid noms!”

My fear intensified, and I screamed, “He doesn’t mean them, Philippe!”

His icy stare bore down on me, instantly freezing me to the floor still I was determined to stop this madness before it got totally out of control. Taking a deep breath, I continued, “But I do think Cully has a right to know what you want. Is it supposed to be a secret that we’re to guess, you know, like figuring out the meaning of the faces?”

A strange look crossed his narrow face. I didn’t know how to read it, but I was saved the effort when he calmly replied, “It is no secret, madame. I do not ask for much here, only his life.”

The quivering gun continued to travel up and down the sleek hair while its prisoner stood as still as death, eyes closed, drawing his breath deeply, and evenly.

“I grows weary of this game I plays,” announced Philippe in a childlike voice. “Now I want you to goes into le bedchamber and lay upons le bed . . . Now!”

“Why?” Cullen asked, his eyes slowly opening as he spoke.

 “Why does everything haves to be so difficult with you!”  Philippe maniacally screeched. “Do as I say! Turns around and walks to le bedroom— you, madame, go with him s’il vous plaît!”

I watched nervously as Cullen slowly turned and reached for my hand. Caressing it within his own he began to lead me toward the bedroom, but I kept glancing behind me noticing that Philippe had stopped to switch on the stereo then continue forward as if he were a hungry panther stalking its intended prey.

Sounds of the beautiful Blue Danube filled the air as I looked around the room, and while my eyes made their journey Philippe’s ear-piercing voice was heard commenting as the beautiful melody played out.

 “Ooh, how I loves this piece! It has always to be a treasured favourite of mine. I often use this enchanting melody to inspire moi as I create my family’s beautiful faces . . . which are now gone — sacrificed!”

His voice momentarily fell silent, as if he were reminiscing. It was a welcomed relief to not have it stabbing our ears, but the reprieve didn’t last. “Là là là là là là là là là laaaaaaà!”  he squealed in what obviously was his rendition of the song. “Oh dear you must forgives moi, for I do not sings too well I’m afraid. It is not my fortè, but this music is simply stirring! How often my André and I would sit together and share a fine glass of le scarlet vin as we marveled to le melody. Oohhh, André … my poor amiii … his eloquent voice has been silenced—because of his foolish involvement with le likes of you, Monsieur Malone!”

I couldn’t help but wonder at the state of Philippe’s mental stability, as my stare carried about the exquisite room which lay in perfect order, save for the bed, which Cullen had earlier commented upon that actually did look as if a major battle had been fought upon it, for the black satin sheets which did remain were soiled and stained, while the sensuous burgundy spread lay disheveled upon the floor, and the assorted pillows discarded to new locations of discovery in colourful heaps carelessly strewn about the room. Used condoms,accompanied with multiple wades of soil-hardened tissues lay inserted among the sheets, and upon this filthy playground Philippe ordered Cullen to remove his clothing and lay down, then boldly turning to me, ordered the exact same.

“Just hold on, Philippe,” remarked Cullen with disgust, glaring at his deranged captor. “What the hell do ya think’s gonna go on here? I’m sure as hell not layin’ down for you, neither is my lady.”

“You, monsieur, will do as you are told for once, or you will be sorry if you do not!” snapped the tightly-wound Frenchman, securing his sweaty grip upon the gun.

The worn riding boots hit the floor with a dull thud as Cullen kicked them off, then nervously unzipped his jeans, and pushed them down his legs but in the course of it all he never once removed his eyes from his aggressor. As time ticked away he continued to study Philippe’s every move, while dutifully removing his shirt.

“You too, madame, do not just stands there ogling him! If you do not minds, may I address you as Joy?” Philippe inquired in his high-pitched tone as if we had suddenly me tat a social.

“No, you may not!” I vehemently snapped, not believing what I was hearing.

“I do hopes you realize that I really did not means you any harm, madame. It is so unfortunate that you haves become so involved with thaaat!” Philippe sarcastically remarked, pointing toward Cullen. “And unfortunately because of that ridiculous mistake you will now suffer le same fate as him. I only wanted to makes you feels more comfortable by addressing you by your pretty nom. But haves it your way, while you still cans.”

 “Shut your fuckin’ mouth, you crazy son-of-a- bitch!” hollered Cullen as he hurriedly stepped toward the sinister Frenchman, only to be met by the impregnable gun.

 “Stops right there, Monsieur Malone, or I will pulls this trigger! I will! I promise!” screeched Philippe, his index finger dusting the trigger.

 “No!”  I screamed, convinced the gun was going off. “Please don’t! Oh God, don’t! Cully, do as he asks, pleeeease, baby, it’s okay I’ll do whatever he wants, just don’t push him!”

The deadly weapon was somewhat lowered as Philippe stood in amusement, nodding his head, as he said, “You should listens to her a little more thans you appears to, monsieur, for she has more sense than you do! Now finish removing your clothes — such as they are, ha-ha! What do you calls this ridiculous look you haves to going here anyway, le best of Paris tramps?! Oui! It suits you so well!” the calculating Frenchman exclaimed, sneering at the actor as he did. I began discarding my remaining clothes to the sounds of The Christmas Song, but as I did, I noticed a video camera mounted upon a metal tripod in the corner by the window, and as the music blared, more articles of clothing fell to the floor.

Realizing my discovery, Philippe proudly said, “Well, Culleé, it is again times to haves a film shot by a professional such as moi.I understands you haves already hads le pleasure to view my magnificent work of art that I did with Mon ami André. It was such a pleasure to helps him shoot it and you, monsieur, though you were not awares of it or my creative ability, were a rather stimulating participant, for I knows how much you appreciate fine visual and artistry. It was such a pity you were so far out of it, for just looks at all you missed,” and as he completed his speech he reached up, and started the film running.

“You are totally out of control!” snapped Cullen.

“You shuts le fuck up, Culleè! I will haves you know that I am very much in controls here! Now you finish disrobing then lie upon le bed – you hurrys up also, madame, then lays besides him!”

The last article of clothing found its way to the floor, and for the first time since this horrid ordeal began I noticed André’s medical bag sitting upon the dresser, fully opened, while tissues rained upon the floor where Cullen’s hand had swept them.

Noticing this, Philippe abruptly screamed, “Why in hell are you to do that?! Leaves them right where they are, for it is what you should lay amongst! Both of you! You will pick them up at once and puts them right back where you found them, now!”

Disbelief engulfed Cullen’s face as he listened to this despicable request, but slowly began to carry out his orders, but as he replaced the fallen tissues he gazed with abhorrence toward Philippe, and said, “You’re fuckin’ nuts … you’re —”

The Frenchman immediately cut in, screaming, “Fermre la bouche! Now lays down, monsieur!”

We looked at each other, then at the unwelcome mess before us. Cullen took his time, as though he were searching for just the right spot, then with no further hesitance swept his arms beneath my legs and gently laid me upon the mattress then stretched out beside me. The drapes remained open, revealing a shower of white as snow fell quickly, some sticking to the window itself.

“Oh my, what a beautiful picture it will makes for le morning news. Le freshly fallen snow, and le two of you as you are discovered – together — in le nude,” Philippe said as a sadistic smile engulfed his narrow face.

“Cully, what’s he talking about?” I anxiously inquired.

“It’s gonna be okay, darlin’, nothing is gonna happen ta either of us,” he quickly replied, as he rubbed my arm with confidence.

“Au contraire agains, Culleè, once more you are sooo wrong, but you will not haves to worry abouts your mistake for much longer,” Philippe stated with a sigh, and strolled to the opened medical bag.

Something could be heard rattling about as he rummaged inside, and when he finally turned around he held a bottle of little white pills in his spindly fingers. As snow fell heavier he walked to a large commode, opened the top drawer and removed a half-empty bottle of dark rum, while sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance in between the stereo’s musical pieces.

“Oh oui, le sound of le nights in Pareeee, no doubts more preparations for le upcoming millénaire, but le noise will not bothers yooou for long, Monsieur Malone, I do not think ssooo, anyway,” Philippe said, gazing in an emphatic manner upon the pill bottle, then at Cullen.

“What makes ya say that?” Cullen asked, cautiously rising up.

With eyes upon the label, Philippe softly answered, “Oohh you need not be concerned. At least I haves chosen an easy way for you.”

Suddenly realizing what he meant, my heart began to pound as I quickly sat up beside my mate.

Picking up the gun, along with the rum Philippe nonchalantly strolled to the side of the bed where he looked upon his victim, and in a heartless manner, said, “Take these.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Cullen hissed, clenching his teeth in defiance.

The Frenchman’s eyes narrowed to slits, as he snapped, “You will take every last one of these pills and you will swallow them with this rum! It will make them work faster! Do it!”

“No way, ya sick son-of-a-bitch!” Cullen exclaimed, glaring at his enemy.

Transferring the gun to his left hand, Philippe reached into his pocket with his right and took out a circular piece of steel. With perplexed eyes we watched as he secured a silencing device to the gun’s nozzle, then with calculating intent,slowly aimed it straight at Cullen’s head while I screamed in terror, watching this horrifying act play out before my eyes.

 “You will be quiet, madame!” Philippe ordered in a crazed fashion then leveling his attention solely upon his victim, viciously snapped, “Do what I say or I will shoots you right where you sit!”

“Then you’ll have ta shoot me, ’cause I’m not takin’ those pills for you or anybody else,” Cullen replied with amazing calmness, but his eyes remained glued upon the quivering gun.

“Ooh, I thinks you will,” Philippe said with a strange air of confidence as he quickly aimed the gun at me, and pulled the trigger.

….

 

Tags: Canadian Indie author Rusty Blackwood, Passions in Paris: Revelations of a Lost Diary, romance, romance books, romance drama, romance fiction, romantic fiction, romantic fiction novel