His Amour

Chapter 9.

Arnaud POV

I stare at the golden, rimmed door. The golden -in a way- piercing through my skin. Mocking me quietly. Staring so deep into my soul, that I'm frightened that the door can see how scared I am. Scared to see the women that had left me in the dark for so many years.

That didn't give a damn about whether or not I ate when meal times came around. That didn't care if I were to get shot up and killed by the people that she had been working with for quite some time. The thing about it is that I had no clue what she had been up to for the past decade or so. I didn't know and I didn't care.

But, now it all changed. It all changed the moment Alexandre brought his ass in here and let that damned women come into my Estate. Damn right! This is my estate. I'm the one that has missed out on sleep to make sure that the people that have stayed under my roof are equipped with food. I have used my shoulders to keep of the roof in this place.

And for that women to come in here like she, I don't know. Belongs here;  disrespect speaks so many fucking volumes. As far as motherly figure goes, she doesn't even have the respect that a mother should get from her children.

Anger pulsing through my veins and heating my face; and I'm sure that if I were to look at a reflection of myself my face would be beet red. My eyes would be black, a whole different shade from their usual blue.

Pulling my vest on, I straighten my slacks, and run a hand through my brown curly hair. The veins in my arms popping out from my skin. I walk towards the door and quickly open it, stepping out gracefully.

My men aligned against the parallel wall to my office. Their guns strapped tightly round their neck, their right hand placed firmly on the trigger and the other one hanging loosely behind their back.

As I walk past each set of them, i'm greeted with a firm nod and a "Yes, sir,". I say nothing in return and continue my way down the long corridor.

I walk down the one spiral stair and i come into contact with the head of the women that i despise so gratefully. I walk down the stair until her back is towards me; making sure that my steps aren't loud and heavy.

"Arnaud," She says, her voice holding power, but sounding so cold. Her anger pointed directly towards me. Her back still facing me.

My nerves are bunched together like a ball and if you were to stare at me long enough you would see the slight shake in my limbs. I press my fists to my sides, to stop the shaking.

"Isn't it a pleasure to see me, child," She says, whipping around so that she faces me. I take a good look at the women that had given me birth and was proud to give birth to her first born.

Her cheeks are thin, her brown hair is swept back into a high ponytail. Her blue eyes shine brightly at me and her beautifully pale skin is coated with makeup. Her shoulders are quite thin along with every other limb on her body.

Covering her is a body is a dark navy blue, silk dress that reaches the ground in ruffles. Her wrists are decorated with dark red jewelry and her earrings are the color of a chandeliers. All in all she looks beautiful. Breaktakingly beautiful.

What catches my attention: are the crinkles along her eyes.  Wrinkles from laughing so much. Laughing when I had to hold the power of a mafia leader at age 18. And she was laughing? What a sick, sick women she is.

"If only I could say that, Elizabeth," I say, my shoulders bulking; showing a sign of possessiveness. Showing that she's surrounded by the walls that I had built, without her help.

"Elizabeth?! I'm your mothe-" She begins, her voice rising slightly. And her arms shooting in the air in defense.

"Lets get two thing settled. One:  You are not my mother. A mother is someone that takes care of her child and doesn't abandoned them. Something you did, Elizabeth. Two. I am the damn boss of this estate and i be damned if i let you raise your voice at me," I say, my voice calm and collected. One leg slung across the other.