Entertainment | Marquis De Gramont

The Office

The next day, I woke up at 8, my new normal. Under The Director, it was 5 for training so we had the rest of the day cleared for either ballet, a mission, or may be free time, which was scarce. Now, I always have plenty of time to myself. I was under the impression this place was going to be more of a prison than The Ruska Roma, I was dead wrong.

I go to the kitchen for breakfast, greeting anyone I pass by as usual. The chef pushes me towards the smaller dining room, stating my breakfast was not ready yet. I sat down at the table where a few of the horse riders were sitting and talking. A few minutes later, the chef brings me my food. I thank him and he nods at my plate. I look at it and am acutely aware of the flower and note on my plate, as well as the attention it gains from the other girls.

"From the boss, miss." He says before going back to the kitchen. I'm unaware of the type of flower it is, but it is beautiful. He's only ever given me notes, which usually consist of him telling me I will be performing, as well as the songs he chose. Today, it is a small note, accompanied by a flower, which he's never given me.

Je't adore

-Vincent

Wonderful. Adore is the only part I bother to decipher. But who's Jet?

Who am I kidding? That could mean "you're dead" for all I know. I never bothered to learn a syllable of French. Why did he only put his first name on there? I eat my food in silence but keep wondering about the note and flower, which I pick up and glance at every so often, planning to ask for a small cup or vase for it from one of the guards.

~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~

"This way, please, miss." I'm led to The Marquis' office on the top floor of the building, which I realize isn't far from the center of Paris.

"Remember, do not question him in front of others, do as he says, and be prepared for anything to happen." I nod numbly, this is only the fifth time I've been reminded of these three things. He isn't in his office when I arrive, but I'm instructed to get comfortable and start painting anyway.

I put on my large denim button down over my shirt, not caring for my leggings, but I take my shoes off. Setting them to the side, I move things around until I'm familiar with the setup. I put my paints and brushes a few feet opposite my eye level canvas, so I'll have to move to get more or new colors. I grab my palette and some colors I want to begin with, and begin.

A few minutes go by, and I hear a loud voice outside the door before it opens aggressively. I jump at the sound, but continue painting. Continue what you are doing, and I will do the same. His heavy footsteps lead him to his desk, which my paints and brushes are right next to, and I need more black. I remember when I interrupted The Director during a rampage. Is this a similar situation? I shake my head at myself and turn to my paints, walking toward them. I make eye contact with The Marquis, and smile nervously.

"Did you like the flower?" He asks after I turn back to the canvas.

"Yes. I'll admit, I don't know French, sir, or flowers, but the flower is gorgeous, I think it's my favorite now, thank you."

"The note was unimportant." He says simply.

"If you say so." I say. He furrows his brows.

"What does that mean?" He asks. I shrug.

"I don't know who Jet is, but I know the word adore when I see it. If it was about my dancing, thank you, I take much pride in what I do. I guess that's why I'm here, yes?" He hums and humor appears on his face at my comment.

We sit in silence as I continue to paint and he flips through paperwork. Taking quick glances every so often, I revel in the opportunity to appreciate his handsome features. Am I lucky or what? I remember when I was salty about being brought here, oh if three weeks ago I'd known I'd be working for the man of my dreams.

"Nova." He calls, a bit louder than I would have expected with us being the only people in the room I look over to him with wide eyes at the unexpected nickname.

"I have a meeting now." Is all he says before the door opens. I see his desk is completely bare all of a sudden. I turn back to my painting as he greets the three guests in a tone a lot different than I'm used to hearing from him. Not that I've had many conversations with him.

His hostile and intimidating demeanor and 'I'm better than everyone' act is on full display, and I realize why he's as feared as he is. He has more power in his left hand than the Ruska Roma does in its entirety. The men he speaks to wouldn't dare disrespect him, as that would be disrespectful to The High Table. No one lives through that.

"Lovely painting." I jump a little, the strange man's voice a lot closer than I expected him to be. I continue to paint as instructed.

"It is, isn't it?" The Marquis agrees, and I smile at his comment.

"And an even more lovely painter." The room goes silent at the stranger's comment. I take a glance at The Marquis, to see him staring blankly at the man. What does that look mean? I walk towards the desk to grab more colors, but the Marquis stops me with his hand.

"Put down your palette." He tells me. I placed the palette on his desk.

"Sir?" The man's once calm expression morphs into fear, and now I'm confused. The Marquis isn't mad at his comment, is he? Why would he be? He just called me lovely, is that an insult to him or something?

"Look out of the window." He gives me more orders, and I do as he says in utter confusion. This is a strange situation, is it not?

Suddenly, a gunshot is heard. I jump and look at The Marquis, who is holding a gun. The man is dead with a bullet in between his eyes. I know I shouldn't be surprised, his reputation precedes him.

"He was going to die, anyways, his comment just helped it happen sooner than the meeting was over, oh well." His cold voice teases the other two men. They look in between me and The Marquis in terror.

"Leave." He tells the two men.

"Nova, come." He tells me. I nod and follow him to a separate exit the two men frantically run through. I speak since we are alone in the hallway he leads me through.

"I left my shoes, sir." He doesn't respond, only looking at my socks before continuing on.