Three Means 1

Color White

    Dulce's eyes widened at the sound, her heart racing, but as she scanned Pierre's expression, seeking some indication of alarm, she found none.

"Fuck! We need to lock the door." She whispered urgently, frantically moving to get off  him. Before her feet could touch the floor, Pierre's voice stopped her.

"Stay here. I'll take care of this." He commanded with a calm authority that contradicted the situation.

    Dulce obeyed but her heart was filled with dread, especially once she saw Pierre stretching lazily, his arms extending above and behind his head, with an unnervingly composed demeanor. He dressed himself unhurriedly, pulling on his underwear, while Dulce watched in disbelief at his unhurried pace.

    "Do hurry and lock the door." She hissed, her frustration increasing at his apparent lack of concern.

"Why should he worry? He has no one else to concern himself with. It is you who has to worry about Arthur, not him." She thought, anxiety running through her.

    Pierre, however, had other plans in mind. Instead of securing the door, he opened it and stepped out, leaving Dulce lying there.

    Had Arthur arrived? Was it just Angelo? Could it be that Fleur had discovered their private romance? Or perhaps Arthur's parents were angered? What about the people at the party? Had they noticed the scandal Pierre had caused?

    These chilling thoughts paralyzed her, and after an eternity of silence, she finally got out of the bed, tiptoeing to the door to lock it. She considered running to her own room, just down the hall, but fear rooted her in place. Instead, she hurried back to the bed, covering herself in Pierre's bedsheets, as if a monster was after her.

Time stretched interminably as she waited, and then came a soft knock at the door. She remained still, indecisive about what to do next. Was it truly Pierre at the door?

Deciding to face whatever awaited, she approached the door once more, unlocking it. It was indeed Pierre. She exhaled the breath she had been holding, stepping aside to let him in and quickly securing the door behind him.

    "Who was it?" Dulce asked at last.

"It was as I suspected: Angelo." He replied, and Dulce sighed with relief. Pierre's expression, however, darkened.

    "You know, Arthur will stop by shortly as we..." Pierre began, but stopped at the sight of Dulce's panicked expression. Gently, he placed a hand on her cheek and another on her waist, bringing her closer. Though a gap remained between them, she could feel the warmth of his body.

"I was thinking perhaps you should end things with him. Perhaps at dinner. You're not officially a couple anyways." He suggested.

Something in his words sparked anger in her. Though she knew Pierre meant no harm, the implication made her feel as though she were concealing a secret. In her mind, she had not yet accepted that she was, in essence, betraying Arthur. Their relationship had not been formalized, but still, she felt tainted and disloyal.

With a sharp push, she shoved him away.

    "You fucking idiot. What do you mean by that, hmm? Because I certainly will not be saying anything about us. This" she gestured between them with her index finger "is not real. We are not together."

    Pierre remained silent with a relaxed posture, but something shifted in his gaze, a hard to interpret change that left Dulce unsettled.

The room began to choke her, and she stormed out, only to crash with a nosy Angelo, who had been leaning against the door.

    "Salut. You two did quite a spectacle over there." He smirked, knowing the sentence alone would make Dulce nervous.

    "What? Who else noticed?" She asked, panic taking over her.

    "Oh, just about everyone." He replied, nonchalantly.

    Dulce did not react immediately. She stood in silence for a few moments before trying to walk away, but Angelo grabbed her hand, stopping her from leaving.

    "I'm kidding! Nobody saw. I told Arthur that Pierre sometimes gets protective over you." He said, and Dulce's shoulders dropped, perhaps relieved from the burden she felt she was carrying.

    She turned to face him and grabbed both of his hands, locking eyes with him.

    "Angelo, thank you so much for that."

    Her gratitude was sincere, and in that moment, she made up her mind to leave Pierre behind. She wished for things to work out with Arthur. Her relationship with Pierre had never felt serious, and she always felt as if she were hiding something. With Arthur, she hoped for security and transparency.

    "Don't thank me too much. I don't know how you will explain this situation to Fleur. We saw the two of you coming out of the dressing room together this morning. Do you not remember?"

    Dulce's shoulders tensed once more, as only a few possible excuses came to mind. She needed to find one.

    "I will go ahead and get ready for this late night dinner." She said, but Angelo did not let go of her hands. She looked up at him, waiting for him to speak his mind.

    "Please don't hurt my brother. I know he cares very deeply for you, and I can tell you do not see that." He said, finally letting go of her hands and walking away.

~

    Dulce's chosen outfit made her feel like an impostor. Dressed in white, the color of purity, innocence, and cleanliness, she felt as if the antonyms of those words were the true description of her state.

    She sat waiting at the dining table, the smell of Pierre and Angelo's cooking making her stomach stir. But was it truly the food's aroma?

    When a knock finally came at the front door, she realized it wasn't the smell of the food that made her stomach turn.

(A/N: Again, I'm so sorry for the late update. I will continue this book, no matter how long it takes. Please bare with me. My studies take too much of my time. Thank you so much for the patience!)