Squeak

Horrible Influences

Jezebel

"The snow is so pretty, Mommy," Izabel whispered as I rocked her in front of the panoramic window in our sleeper car.

"It is," I confirmed, taking in the sights of the sleepy town with her. A knock at the door interrupted our serene mother-daughter moment, and Erik's body heat soon engulfed me.

"It looks like I came just in time to say goodnight," he chuckled.

"Yeah, she's beat. It's been a long day. It won't be long before I follow after her."

"Hold me, Daddy Erik," Izabel requested, making grabby hands at her father. We performed the exchange, and Erik took my place. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. We had an early breakfast together as a family. Somehow, Erik had convinced Izabel to refer to Elliot as Papa until we returned home. He probably offered her sweets or a brand-new stuffy. We boarded our train a few hours later, and I was impressed by its luxuriousness. The lavish interior offered soft blue furnishings, natural dark wood walls and floors, and panoramic windows. I was floored when we entered our sleeper car, or should I say, grand suite, that Erik managed to swing. The king-sized bed was to the rear of the suite and looked more inviting than it should with its cream duvet and cream and gold accent pillows. There was a sofa and two armchairs in a sitting area and a small dining set that had a fruit platter, caviar and crackers, and a bottle of champagne waiting for us to indulge. The bathroom was small but functional with its taste of opulence—marble and gold fixtures. After some time, the train stopped in Luxembourg City for several hours. We went on a city tour, visited the National Museum of Archaeology, History, and Arts, and finished the remainder of our trip on a wine tour that my snobbish brother-in-law made all about him. He essentially told the tour guide he didn't know jack shit about wine and took over the presentation.

I hate to admit it, but Elliot's presentation was livelier and more informative.

We had dinner in one of the dining car restaurants. I had the Charolais beef fillet with tarragon and sun-dried tomato sauce, mashed potatoes, and spring vegetables, and I finished the meal with an Amalfi lemon soft cake. After dinner, Helen and I enjoyed a robust red wine I picked up during our wine tasting while Erik and Elliot scurried off to do villain shit. Izabel sat beside me with her "wine" and swore up and down she felt funny. It was grape juice.

According to the itinerary, we'd travel throughout the night and wake up in Paris.

I think I'm more excited about Disney Land than Izabel, and I swear to God, if Erik mentions perverts in costumes, I'll punch him in his solar plexus.

My eyes flew open when I felt hands on me.

"Relax, Squeak. I'm not trying to molest you. I'm trying to get you tucked in. Plus, if I wanted to molest you, I'd want you to be an active participant."

I smiled. "What a lovely sentiment to share in front of our child."

"That girl is knocked the hell out," he informed, pointing to the center of the bed. Sure enough, Izabel was out, snoring softly with her mouth open. "Get in," he demanded, lifting the cover for me. I could tell from his face he left no room for argument.

"Make me," I whispered. He crashed his lips against mine, and I almost forgot our child was there when I wrapped my legs around him. He chuckled and pulled himself out of my grasp.

"As wonderful as that sounds, we don't have a babysitter for the evening. Elliot and my mother are preoccupied."

My brow wrinkled. "Preoccupied? Did your mom take a handful of pills again?"

"I wish. I passed by her sleeper car to tell her goodnight and...."

"Noooooo," I said in disbelief.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your mother-in-law is fucking your fiance."

"That dirty bitch," I laughed.

"Which one?"

"Elliot."

"Why him and not my mother?"

"Let's think like Helen for a moment. I bet you she's sleeping with "Adrian" to break us up so that you and I can be together after she proves he cheated on me. The poor thing doesn't even know she's sleeping with her stepson."

"That's tough," Erik laughed, climbing into bed opposite of Izabel.

"That's what she gets for being fast. I want to be a fly on that wall when she finds out," I said, shutting off the nightstand lamp. We would've been shrouded in darkness if it wasn't for the moonlight filtering through the windows. "Goodnight, King."

"Goodnight, Squeak."

I closed my eyes and was soothed by the sound of the train car swaying on the tracks and Izabel's snores. My eyes cracked open when Erik whispered my name in the darkness. "What do you want, Erik?"

"I've been thinking...."

"Jesus," I whispered.

"I've been giving our conversation at the sushi restaurant some more thought—"

"It's fine, Erik."

"Shut the fuck up and listen, Jezebel. I'm trying to be vulnerable here."

You're gonna be vulnerable and bleeding if you keep talking to me like that.

"I'm a hypocrite."

I wasn't expecting him to admit that, but go on, King.

"I told you the reason you shouldn't pursue bounty hunting because it could potentially put our family in danger, but I was fine with putting you and Izabel in danger by demanding you play house with a criminal. I was fine with a criminal living under our roof, taking our child to fencing practice, and tucking her in at night. And it's not even like Adrian has a mind of his own, you know? He's so far up Jacob's ass that I wonder if Jacob ordered him to take you two out if he would've done it. Adrian claims that he loves you and Izabel so much, but does his need for validation from Jacob outweigh his love? I could've put you two in a horrible situation because I was selfish and only thinking about myself."

"Wow...I never thought of it like that," I said softly.

"If you want...I'm not making any promises...but I'm open to looking into it and educating myself more on the profession."

"What brought on the change of heart?"

He grumbled and laced his fingers in mine.

"More like who. Elliot's not too bad once you get over the snobbish elitism."

"And the double murder," I added.

"Your hands aren't so squeaky clean," he reminded me.

"Prada is for peasants," Izabel whispered. We looked down at her before glancing at each other.

"He's a horrible influence on Izabel," Erik said.

"Agreed. I've been meaning to ask because Izabel has been asking me for it all day, but what the hell is spicy milk?"

"You should go to sleep, Squeak," he said, cupping my cheek. "We have a long day tomorrow of perverts gallivanting around in costumes." 

08/11/2024