Butterfly by Nelle L’Amour
CHAPTER 23
Sofi
“We’re here,” says the cab driver, awakening me with a startle. I must have fallen asleep while the cab crawled back to the city in the Saturday night traffic. My eyes snap open and take in my surroundings. We’re parked in front of Roman’s formidable abode. The edifice is dark, not even lit by a streetlamp. It must be after midnight.
“How much?” I ask the driver. My eyes are so bleary I can’t make out the amount on the meter.
“One hundred dollars,” he says. “I’m giving you a break. I turned off my meter. I have a sweet spot for a damsel in distress.”
I search for my purse, then remember I left it in Roman’s rental car. Oh no!
“I’m sorry,” I splutter. “I left my purse at that wedding. I can mail you the money or send it by Venmo.”
Much to my surprise, the cabbie smiles and says, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You be careful. This city is full of big bad wolves.”
I thank him profusely and scoot out of the cab. He drives off as I stumble to the front door of Roman’s atelier, holding up my gown so I don’t trip. Suddenly, I remember. I don’t have a set of keys. My controlling asshole boss never gave me one.
Tears forming behind my eyes, I jab the buzzer. No answer. I hit it again. And again. Can this night get any worse? Finally, the door swings open. Madame DuBois is standing at the entrance in a white eyelet nightgown.
“My chérie, where is Roman?”
“I don’t know! And I don’t care!” The dam behind my eyelids gives. I burst into tears and run blindly through the pitch-black atelier up the stairs to my chamber. Yanking the door open and then locking it behind me, I fling myself onto the bed, not bothering to take off my gown or kick off my shoes. Sobs fill my ears as endless tears scald my face. The events of tonight whirl through my head like a cyclone. In the end only one lingers. The memory of being in Roman’s arms. Hearing his heartbeat in my ears. Feeling his heat. Dancing with him as if we were one. As if we belonged together. A throb between my legs, so great I can hear it, joins the sobs of my aching heart.
Somehow, under the yards and yards of fabric that shroud me, I bring myself relief.
And cry myself to sleep.