At Your Service

Chapter 27- Falling

 Ashley was lounging across his leather sofa with a wine bottle in hand and wearing a plum purple robe. His white hair fell gently into his face; he pushed it back every once in a while just for it to return, so he gave up and let it happen. He was listening to Mozart on his vinyl record player, the opera ringing through the space. The angel's Parisian studio apartment had a general white, black, red, and purple colour scheme. The hardwood flooring was cherry, but the rest of the wood in the apartment was stained black oak. White, black, and red shag carpets were placed meticulously throughout. The black shag carpet in front of the sofa, which had a plush purple blanket draped over the back of it, was pinned to the floor by a glass coffee table. The entire theme of Ashley's residence in Paris was luxurious and pretentious.

Two sharp, violent knocks on the door made the angel spring up from the sofa with a start, nearly causing him to spill his wine. He placed the bottle on the coffee table and adjusted his robe to make sure nothing was exposed (although, he would not have been ashamed of anything was) before dashing over to the door to answer it. He was pleasantly surprised, upon opening the door, to see his ex-slave standing in the doorway, eyes narrowed, frown hard set, and arms crossed over his chest.

Ashley smiled. "I thought you were the police."

"Why, would they have reason to come here, to you?" the demon grumbled, unimpressed, his distaste for the angel only intensifying.

"Oh, you know," the angel chuckled dismissively but darkly, knowing the demon didn't want to know. He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "Come in." Carlisle entered, immediately scanning the apartment for weapons or traps; he could see none. "Wine?"

The demon shook his head, frowning deeper. "No."

Ashley shrugged indifferently. "Suit yourself." He walked back over to the sofa and returned to his previous position. Carlisle stood by the window, gloved hands clasped behind his back. "How have you been?"

"I'm not here to catch up," Carlisle stated darkly as he stared out at the city, spotting the Eiffel Tower looming a short distance away. It was a gloomy day in the City of Love; it appeared to mirror the gloomy occasion.

Ashley sat up, bottle resting on his thigh. "Oh, getting right to business, are we?" he purred with a wide grin and gleaming eyes.

"We're done."

The demon's words echoed hollowly in the angel's ears. "Beg pardon?" he muttered with wide eyes.

"I will never belong to you again." Carlisle pivoted to face the angel, his gaze like daggers piercing the angel's skull. "I will never be your slave again. I am not your property. You will never have a contract with me again. You came into my house uninvited," he began walking closer. Ashley failed to feel intimidated; he only felt satisfied. "You nearly killed my master in a poor attempt to break my existing contract and take me back, as if I would ever want to be with you again. My master has shown me how shamefully you treated me in the past, and I will never go back to that. I have grown, and you clearly have not. I have become better, kinder, more caring, and more loving than you will ever be."

The angel and demon stared at each other, the demon with rage and the angel with curiosity. Carlisle expected him to get angry, start trying to kill him, throwing things, or something else along those lines. Ashley suddenly set the wine bottle down and stood. "What time is it in London?" the angel wondered, not a drop of anger in his tone. It had just become 9:00 in France.

Carlisle scowled and frowned. Something didn't feel right about this situation suddenly. First of all, the angel should know the time zones of all countries. Secondly, why wasn't he reacting? "Eight o'clock," he muttered blankly.