This Dark Salvation

I.

It was the afternoon before another party, the publicity savoring each detail as to what was going to happen behind the doors of my estate and instead of attending to the preparations I was elsewhere. I normally don't hide when I'm scared, and I wasn't scared, I was only a bit panicky. I told my chauffeur to take me to a neighboring estate about an hour drive away. I paid him plenty to keep quiet, and almost always they do. So, instead of knocking on the front door, I snuck around the outside and scaled the wall.

We were slumped across from each other, Delilah bored, and I washed up. It was a boiling day, so the French windows were wide open allowing the thick breeze to trickle inside. I'd thrown off my jacket and unbuttoned my vest in an attempt to cool myself faster. The velvet couch did nothing to help me relax as its scratchy material burnt my neck and forearms. We both sipped our lemonade and watched each other's sweat drip from our necks.

"You're gonna have to take another bath," she stated.

I squinted at the glare on the windowpanes. "Yeah," I answered.

Delilah went across the room to refill her cup. Taking two chips of ice she pressed them to her protruding collar bone and again I was left breathless by her natural beauty. She kept her eyes closed and leaned against the table. "Manson, you know, you'll have to go. I have to get dressed and ready soon." She peeked at me. "And you can't be found here as I get dressed."

I laughed a little. "I suppose not then. It'll look bad on our reputations."

Delilah slumped over and laughed while pouring herself another drink. "But when have we had good reputations?"

I jutted a finger. "Good point."

Delilah huffed again then sat beside me. "In all seriousness, Manson, why don't you want to go? You love the attention. So, what's so different?"

"Nothing!" I protested. Delilah gave me a long look; she always did that.

"Then why did you come crawling here?"

I waved a hand. "Just for some company—"

"You came through my window. My room is on the second floor, Manson." Delilah kept a straight face; the cool one I'd seen on several magazine copies with her brows slightly raised and lips perfectly slacked.

"Well, you got me there."

"So, you just decided that today, precisely four hours before the party, to get some exercise by scaling the walls of my house?"

"That's right."

"You're outrageous!" Delilah said, hitting my arm.

The room stilled and silence filtered through. The breeze picked up making the thin curtains sweep the carpet and lift off the floor. Delilah undid her heels to rub her feet. Her shaped nails were painted pink that day, it complemented her new dress. She was one for fashion, as one would be if working in that business, which she was. Delilah got a weekly endorsement of clothing after her pictures. It would be shameful to see her wearing the same thing twice. Money was no issue either because if she wanted something from a collection, hand made by the designer, she got it full price: free. I'm not saying she was cheap, if a rumor got out saying she was that'd be the death of her. What I'm saying is that she had everything in her hands, even her boss, assistant, even her own family.

That was sadly the opposite of me. Frankly, I had no power over anything, or one, except my servants. I was just that good-looking child my family needed to keep our reign going. Thankfully, I was the first and only boy born by both of my parents, so I lived my life as an only child. Having no siblings to compete with had been marvelous. All the special attention was on me and I bathed in it. I lived in absolute luxury and I'm damn proud of it too. If anything would give me stress, struggle, or the slightest hand cramp, someone would take over and get the work done. It was difficult to balance the things I needed to do like making good impressions on young women, keeping up with interviews, and a fashion sense to aid the businesses in sales. All the simple paperwork just got in the way.