warning: lots of revelations of things previously hinted at...

[ c o n d u i t f o r e m o t i o n s ]

♥ talisa ♥

I'D TOLD PIERRE that he'd be dead before he could stutter if he told anyone about our coffee.

Fear was the best form of silence.

That was how things worked at Forteaux, where hot gossip was people's guilty pleasure. Unfortunately, it was pure poison for the subject and I refused to be openly associated with individuals apart from a select few.

Worth and adoration stemmed from privacy.

One thing I recognised was that people loved something rare. More important than that, they craved somebody to lament over and the less they knew about their subject, the better. Their imagination filled in the gap, very often a projection of what they so deeply wished for themselves.

The result?

A hierarchy where those at the bottom both loathed and loved those on top, who had a skewed perception of their most idolised self.

Strangely, it was a breath of fresh air to talk to Pierre. Almost cathartic. Everybody at Forteaux knew who I was and it felt good to listen to someone whose words weren't marred by my reputation.

I didn't know if it was because he was terrified or in awe of me but he didn't say too much. I was glad though. It gave me a chance to vent about random shit.

Apparently, he'd hardly made any friends at Forteaux and spent most of his lunchtime moping around and wandering the corridors. To his dismay, his family had recently arranged for him to stay at Forteaux until exams.

Only then did I realise Pierre had never answered my question on who his exchange scheme partner was at Forteaux.

I'd ask him the next time I saw him, which would be in a couple of days.

We'd bonded over our mutual interest in martial arts.

Whilst I enjoyed observing the techniques of the athletes, Pierre had shamelessly admitted he liked ogling at the physiques of the contestants. Frankly, I appreciated how openly he spoke of his desire. Too many people nowadays avoid speaking of lust and attraction when in fact, it was a very big and real part of life.

I had two tickets to London Fight Night on Wednesday and I'd told Pierre to join me. I'd made it clear that it was a black-tie event with strictly formal clothes. That probably wasn't gonna be an issue, given he was minted. He hadn't. been joking about his mother being headmistress of Espirits in Paris.

How long does it take to open a bloody gate?

I honked my car loudly in front of the intricately designed black gates, guarding the Kimberly Estate, before buzzing five more times on the metal box to my right.

A few moments later, a watchman came running out, apologising profusely.

"About time," I snapped, frustrated.

I'd been driving here at least once a week for two years minimum.

They knew my number plate well and let me in immediately.

When I was younger, I'd decided that someday, when I bought my own house, I would have similar black gates installed at the front. Instead of painting the house white, like the mansion in front of me, I would paint it midnight black. Arlo had always laughed at me saying you couldn't paint a house black, but I'd vehemently disagreed stating I could do whatever I wanted.

Parking my car in the driveway beside one of his family's many Rolls-Royce's, I rang the doorbell and was greeted by a middle-aged brunette housekeeper.

She must have recognised me for she escorted me towards the drawing room.

Before I entered the room, I waited for the housekeeper to leave expectantly. I could tell she was lingering around, pretending to dust the paintings in the corridor and god knows what else. Eventually, my patience ran thin. "You know, I'm fully capable of knocking on the door and entering. Some privacy please."

Intimidated by the venom in my voice, she dropped the duster and scurried off.

Arlo would become a nervous wreck if anyone besides his family and myself found out.

I thought back to the evening of the Spring Ball when Prince and Arlo were bickering like two bitches at a nail salon.

It was getting messy.

Prince shoved Arlo backwards in annoyance, sending him flying backwards. I watched in horror as the blonde-haired boy stumbled backwards, attempting to steady himself using the tablecloth.

Instead, he accidentally pulled it from the table, knocking the vase-like table centrepiece and dinner plates to the ground. They smashed into a thousand pieces.

Worry flashed through Arlo's eyes. A moment later bright red blood trickled from his nose. My chest was still heaving in anger at Louisa's surprise attendance at the ball and return to Forteaux, but that was no longer a priority.

Sharply, I glanced around the hall.

Nobody had seemed to pick up on the fact Arlo was bleeding.

God, I needed to keep it that way.

It was rare that somebody started bleeding that easily and I knew it wouldn't be long until people started asking questions.

Even more urgent than that, I needed to stop the douche by the name of Prince from causing any more damage. It should be manageable to handle a bleeding nose, but I knew any more cuts could lead to serious blood loss.

"You bastard," Arlo. "You wanted the truth and now you can't face it."

I didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about, but clearly, even he hadn't realised he was bleeding.

Oh, for fucks sake.

Think of something fast, Talisa.

"Oh really? We'll see about that."

Prince laughed sourly, looking at Arlo. "Get up then. If you can manage that."

Hearing Prince taunt him like that, given his condition, struck a nerve in me. Pissed off, I stepped forward and positioned myself in front of Arlo protectively.

Scowling intensely, I narrowed my eyes at him dangerously.

"Get the fuck away from him, Parvais."

I caught sight of the bottle of red that had somehow stayed on the table.

Well, wasn't that ideal? The perfect distraction.

Popping the cork, I didn't hesitate to ruthlessly empty the entire contents upon Prince's head, shaking it at the end for emphasis.

Oh, how I prayed that somebody took a picture of Prince right now.

He look of utter shock on his face as red liquid ran down his face and stained the white of his shirt.

What a surprise. One of the most arrogant people in the world was finally at a loss of words.

Served him sight.

A smirk grew on my face as I dropped the empty bottle on the floor, its shatter echoing across the hall.

"How's that for 'managing' as you say?"

Everyone was too busy processing what had just happened to see me briefly lock eyes with Arlo. I discreetly gestured to my nose and he took the hint.

Instantly, he grabbed a napkin from the table and cleaned up his nose before anyone else noticed, nodding subtly in thanks.

Diversion successful.

Good.

"Talisa, when will you realise that breaking bottles of expensive champagne doesn't do anything?" A whiney, nasal voice taunted me.

My eyes lit up in a menacing thrill as a slow smile grew on my face. Oh, so this bitch wanted to fight? Clearly, Lexi wanted to be publicly humiliated.

Her demise, not mine.

Boy, she didn't know what she had coming.

I stepped forward.

I almost laughed aloud at the memory and how easily I had pinned down Lexi when she'd lunged for me. These muscles weren't just for show. Wasn't that a tragic but unbelievably entertaining night?

Digging into my handbag, I glanced at the week's supply of BeneFix injections. I'd accidentally learnt about his severe haemophilia B at a party in the past and he'd made me swear to not tell anyone.

It had become a lot worse a couple of years ago but Arlo refused to tell and worry his family, despite my efforts to convince him. As a result, I offered to source extra strength BeneFix injections, given I had connections. They provided the chemicals that allowed blood to clot into a scar in the event of a wound.

Ever since that day, I checked on him regularly.

I wasn't stupid. I knew Arlo was the type to never say a word, even if he was going through the craziest shit.

Slowly, I opened the door to the drawing-room, the sound of rhythmic music hitting my ear. The walls were a soft gold, with ancestral portraits hung on the wal.

As usual, in the centre of the room was a grand piano, glinting in the light of the large chandelier that hung over it.

I recognised the piece he was playing immediately.

Fantaisie-Impromptu by Chopin.

The notes from the piano echoed beautifully around the room as he neared the end of the music. Every note Arlo played was perfect and yet everything sounded just so wrong.

He let out a breathy sigh at the end, platinum blonde hair dropping onto his forehead as his head fell forward. "Something's off, I know. I just can't work out what."

To me, it was rather simple.

"Everything is wrong," I frankly commented, smoothing my white mini skirt. It complemented the lace long sleeve top I was wearing.

"The entire piece is supposed to capture a whirlwind of passion and intensity and urgency and internal turmoil. It's supposed to be rough-around-the-edges and unpolished. Not prim and perfect, especially at the start. Think staccato and clipped notes. Sure, the middle section has a more reflective vibe but we're soon robbed of that. The tempo speeds up and the romantic longing is back, this time more frantic and tense than ever."

I was almost out of breath.

It was strange how defensive I was over a piece of music I hadn't played in years. Despite this, the words rolled out of my mouth. "It's like the composer has so much to say, but there isn't enough breath. Your note accuracy is perfect but the emotion just isn't there."

Arlo smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You don't hold back, do you?"

"Never."

He rested his head on his hand, elbow resting on the piano. "I always forget you're practically a pro pianist."

I laughed, bringing my finger to my lip and making a hush noise. "Shh, nobody else knows. It's funny to watch people try to impress me by pretending they're good at piano when they're actually shit. The best comedic pass time."

Arlo arched an eyebrow, pale skin pulling upwards. "Are you calling me a shit pianist?"

"Of course not. You're the second best," I retorted, giving him a daring look. "After me. That's what I meant. In case you didn't get it."

That got a laugh out of him as he rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. I know. I'm not intellectually inept. In case you didn't know," he mirrored my final sentence back to me making me narrow my eyes playfully.

"Can you show me?"

"What?"

"How to play the piece?"

I hesitated, glued to the marble floor a few meters from Arlo and the grand piano. Frankly, I couldn't remember the last time I'd played, let alone in front of someone. It brought back too many traumatic memories of my childhood, Babushka and Dedushka.

"No," I replied, curtly.

He turned his head towards me, eyes trained in focus on my face. Arlo's eyes weren't a bright blue like Lexi's. Instead, they were soft cornflower blue that worked with his fair skin, complementing his features.

"Please?" he insisted gently, before looking around the room. "It's just me. I want to improve."

I refrained from swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat.

I refuse to let those horrid people haunt me.

Sighing, I walked towards him and passed him my handbag. "Well, scoot over then."

His face lit up slightly as he stood up, gesturing for me to sit down.

My fingers hovered over the piano after I briefly glanced at the sheet music. I knew I didn't need it. I'd been forced to play this at least a hundred times as a child. Some things you couldn't forget, even if you wanted to.

Muscle memory kicking in, I surrendered to the piece and became lost in the music. My shoulders flowed forward and backwards, my long fingers dancing over keys in a familiar routine that I'd first learnt as a ten-year-old girl.

I didn't know when my eyes shut. The sensation of my straightened hair lingered on my back as it tumbled from in front of my shoulder to behind.

The piece was rushed, unsteady, a tornado waiting to erupt.

It was surprisingly easy to play. I didn't have to feign any of the emotion. It was as if I wasn't there. My body was simply a conduit for emotions to flow. They radiated from within my chest, passing through my arms and tingling in my fingertips, before flowing into the black and white of the piano.

Before I knew it, it was over.

I let the final notes ring, keeping my eyes closed and feeling something wet running down my cheeks.

Countless emotions I didn't know I was harbouring had just been released.

I opened my confused eyes, readjusting to my surroundings. They met Arlo's. His gaze searched mine with a knowing look as I blinked away any fresh tears.

"Talisa?"

"I'm okay. It's just- It's just been a while." My voice was hoarse and foreign.

He nodded and dropped the subject. I could tell he knew there was more to it but he didn't ask.

That's what I liked about Arlo. He didn't ask too many questions and he didn't push me in directions I didn't want to go. He just let me be.

Keen to change the topic, I grabbed my handbag from his and searched inside before pulling out the medication. "Special delivery!" I exclaimed, dumping it into his hands. "Guess what it is?"

"Cookies?" he sarcastically responded, pretending he didn't recognise his regular delivery.

"He's upped the price slightly," I started. "He tried to raise it by 30% but I convinced him to settle for 3%." I was quite proud of my negotiating skills.

Arlo obviously caught on and smiled softly, "Convinced him?"

Putting a hand on my hip, I stood up straight. "You know people are scared of me for a good reason."

"Hmm, I don't see why," he humoured, before questioning me earnestly. "why don't you let everyone see this side of you?"

I didn't hesitate before answering. "Because that would be incredibly stupid, Arlo Kimberly. And I'm not stupid."

He shook his head, thanking me for organising the BeneFix before curiously staring at me. "You're glowing, Talisa. Bordering on the edge of happy. And most noticeably, you're ever so slightly nicer than usual. What happened?"

My lips pulled upwards.

Gabriel happened.

Life was a lot less tense when you knew you were no longer desperately chasing someone.

He'd sent me a picture of flat keys earlier today, stating they were a duplicate of his keys and asking if I knew anything about them. I'd denied knowing anything about them, instead suggesting that some fan girls from Forteaux had probably cloned them and recommending he should change the lock.

Of course, I didn't tell him the truth.

The fact was I'd duplicated his keys a couple of months ago. When Gabriel was at his worst, rather ironically I began regretting hooking him up with my dealer. He didn't know but my dealer gave me regular records of everything that Gabriel was purchasing and it wasn't good.

That was a strong statement coming from me.

So every once in a while, I would go into his flat when he was away and swap some drugs for vitamins.

I wasn't completely heartless. I didn't want him to become as addicted as I was. I knew he couldn't handle that alongside his reliance on alcohol.

In the next message, Gabriel also mentioned that he had something important he wanted to speak to me about in regards to the flat.

A smile teased at my lips.

Here comes the typical flat rules lecture, I bet.

little does she know what Gabe's gonna say thanks to Nanna, lmao

also... is that character development i spy in talisa?

writing this felt like writing the funny, cynical, tough girl (but acc a big softie) talisa from 'the price of gold.' kinda missed her, not gonna lie! let's hope she's here to stay...

I LOVE ARLO. it was fun to reflect on the Spring Ball from another perspective - btw, go reread chapter 11 if you want a dose of drama.

kiwi x