The Fates (Book II)

9.10 - Twist of Fate

Let's see what some of the series' shadiest characters are up to...

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Scene 10: Twist of Fate

A.D. 2015

Fingers cradling the smooth bowl of a wineglass — its contents drained, the glass as empty as her soul had always been — she sat upon her secret lover's sofa, staring out the window and reflecting on her sins. Wished that the rain drumming against the pane could wash away the stain. Of course this fleeting wish, like most things in her life, was all in vain. With a few rapid blinks, Katherine brushed it away.

The wineglass in her grasp suddenly sank from added weight; she stirred from her brief daze with another blink, realizing then that Parker had taken the liberty of replenishing her drink.

"That's quite enough," she huffed once he had poured more than what civilized society permitted in one cup. "For the life of me I can't see why you'd want to get me drunk. You already have open access to my bed, and to all my secrets; plying me with alcohol seems truly useless."

A roguish smirk lifted his lip as he tilted the bottle further downward toward her glass, clearly of no mind to desist.

She scowled as the fine red wine swirled up to terribly unrefined heights. Seated on his sofa, her glass the only thing between the ceaseless stream of blood-dark liquid and the pale taupe fabric, she was appalled but helpless to resist. "Parker, stop — I'm serious—"

Naturally, he didn't. Not until he had tipped the bottle upside down and let its last drops drip into her cup, chuckling at her frown.

"Ugh, you are such a twit. I don't want this — here, take it," Katherine spat, shoving the brimming glass toward him as forcefully as she could without risking a spill. Which was not very forcefully at all.

And apparently her cautionary efforts were in vain, because to her immediate regret, the movement had been just violent enough to cause a splash of wine to slip over the rim and land right on his sand-colored carpet.

"Shit," she hissed. One of the few circumstances in which Katherine ever used curse words was with Parker; their dalliance was so thoroughly dirty that it made no sense to keep her language clean.

She instantly stood up, set the glass down on a side table, and hastened to the bathroom, returning promptly with a damp cloth.

Parker sat back in his armchair and watched, amused as he himself nursed a dark amber scotch. "You know you didn't have to..."

"What, so that your cleaning lady can come by and address it long after the stain has stubbornly set in?" Katherine scoffed as she knelt to the floor, stooping low to tend to the unwanted blossom of Merlot. "Why am I not surprised that your lazy ass knows nothing about cleaning."

"And why am I not surprised to see you so instinctively, even eagerly, drop to your knees..."

"Oh, don't go making a sex joke of this, please—"

"No innuendo intended. Not of the sexual variety, at least," Parker teased, taking a long sip of his single malt. "I just meant to allude to a time in your life when... you must have often been in this position..."

At that, Katherine threw down the washcloth and snapped up to her feet, icy blue eyes afire. "Here I was just being nicer than I ought to be, cleaning up after a mess which is really entirely your fault..."