tongue so hard that I tasted blood. Was that a gunshot ? "That didn't sound normal at all!"
"The staff is down there with him . I was down there earlier—before you woke, actually—but he tends to get out of control when I leave him."
"Then why didn't you stay down there with him?" I asked. It felt like I was just asking the obvious. All of this seemed somewhat strange to me, but aside from his larger, unintended crimes against humanity, Roland seemed to be all right. This uncle business was yet another secret he carried with him .
" I can't stay with the poor man forever. Happens every time. They have to sedate him sometimes. It's a pity. We used to be so close and now he's just...vacant," he said. His face looked so grave, his eyes sullen, his expression so empty. I swore he might start crying.
"I'm sorry," I said. I hugged him from the side and kissed his rough cheek. "Mental illness is hard to deal with."
"All the money in the world can't fix my dear old uncle," Roland said.
Although I was still finding the situation a little weird—it had sounded kind of like a gunshot after all—Roland's performance seemed to alleviate my suspicions. We sat there in silence for a short while, until Roland finally rose to his feet. He slowly opened the door and listened.
"It sounds like they've departed," he said. "I must be on my way then."
"Al l right," I said. "We'll be having dinner together, right?"
"Of course," he said. Roland seemed happier—too happier actually. His figure disappeared into the hall and the door closed behind him.
I thought about what he had said, about his uncle and all of that. Yes, he still had secrets, but I was surprised this was the first time I was finding out about this. Wouldn't he have mentioned it if his uncle was going to be here? I put my robe back into place and walked out into the hall, hoping that I'd hear some sound that would validate his story—but there was nothing. Just silence.
Really, it was easy for me to get lost in the mansion, lost in the idea of being sustained by Roland's genius and financial superiority. Although my goal was relaxation—and I'd certainly had plenty of it—I wished that I had a purpose in going somewhere else.
Roland would arrange for a driver to take me anywhere I wanted and he had a private jet to fly me any place on the planet that I cared to go. There was no inspiration, however. I felt dull and lifeless sometimes, and maybe that's why I thought I heard gunshots instead of a physical altercation with a man suffering from dementia. Maybe I was trying to invent excitement—and should just watch a movie instead of assuming Roland to be a murderer.
Dinner that night was quiet, our only guests the people that were serving us. I had taken a bath in the afternoon, spending half the day in that beautiful jacuzzi tub, allowing my mind to wander aimlessly. I was giddy and curious, but still restrained.
"Something seems to be on your mind, Melissa," Roland said. "I can see those gears cranking."
"It's nothing," I blurted out, immediately regretting how obvious I had just made it that I was hiding something.
"Hmm?" He eyed me cautiously.
"I've just been a little bored," I admitted. "You're always busy. I used to keep my time occupied with my job. Obviously I'm not doing that here. I didn't ever know it would be a problem because I've been working like a maniac for years. "
Roland laughed. "You're getting ahead of me, my pet."
"What?"
"I would like you to be involved in one of my businesses."
"Really?" I said. "I mean, you've got an opening or whatever?" Here I was, living the life of luxury yet excited about a job .
A smile broke out acro ss his face. "Yes, there is an opening , my pet. It's at one of my offices. Would you like to manage it?"
" Manage an office ?" I asked. "For what?" My heart pounded with excitement. Once again, he was reading my mind.
"It's just a subsidiary of StarChem," he said. "Strictly distribution. You wouldn't need to
"The staff is down there with him . I was down there earlier—before you woke, actually—but he tends to get out of control when I leave him."
"Then why didn't you stay down there with him?" I asked. It felt like I was just asking the obvious. All of this seemed somewhat strange to me, but aside from his larger, unintended crimes against humanity, Roland seemed to be all right. This uncle business was yet another secret he carried with him .
" I can't stay with the poor man forever. Happens every time. They have to sedate him sometimes. It's a pity. We used to be so close and now he's just...vacant," he said. His face looked so grave, his eyes sullen, his expression so empty. I swore he might start crying.
"I'm sorry," I said. I hugged him from the side and kissed his rough cheek. "Mental illness is hard to deal with."
"All the money in the world can't fix my dear old uncle," Roland said.
Although I was still finding the situation a little weird—it had sounded kind of like a gunshot after all—Roland's performance seemed to alleviate my suspicions. We sat there in silence for a short while, until Roland finally rose to his feet. He slowly opened the door and listened.
"It sounds like they've departed," he said. "I must be on my way then."
"Al l right," I said. "We'll be having dinner together, right?"
"Of course," he said. Roland seemed happier—too happier actually. His figure disappeared into the hall and the door closed behind him.
I thought about what he had said, about his uncle and all of that. Yes, he still had secrets, but I was surprised this was the first time I was finding out about this. Wouldn't he have mentioned it if his uncle was going to be here? I put my robe back into place and walked out into the hall, hoping that I'd hear some sound that would validate his story—but there was nothing. Just silence.
Really, it was easy for me to get lost in the mansion, lost in the idea of being sustained by Roland's genius and financial superiority. Although my goal was relaxation—and I'd certainly had plenty of it—I wished that I had a purpose in going somewhere else.
Roland would arrange for a driver to take me anywhere I wanted and he had a private jet to fly me any place on the planet that I cared to go. There was no inspiration, however. I felt dull and lifeless sometimes, and maybe that's why I thought I heard gunshots instead of a physical altercation with a man suffering from dementia. Maybe I was trying to invent excitement—and should just watch a movie instead of assuming Roland to be a murderer.
Dinner that night was quiet, our only guests the people that were serving us. I had taken a bath in the afternoon, spending half the day in that beautiful jacuzzi tub, allowing my mind to wander aimlessly. I was giddy and curious, but still restrained.
"Something seems to be on your mind, Melissa," Roland said. "I can see those gears cranking."
"It's nothing," I blurted out, immediately regretting how obvious I had just made it that I was hiding something.
"Hmm?" He eyed me cautiously.
"I've just been a little bored," I admitted. "You're always busy. I used to keep my time occupied with my job. Obviously I'm not doing that here. I didn't ever know it would be a problem because I've been working like a maniac for years. "
Roland laughed. "You're getting ahead of me, my pet."
"What?"
"I would like you to be involved in one of my businesses."
"Really?" I said. "I mean, you've got an opening or whatever?" Here I was, living the life of luxury yet excited about a job .
A smile broke out acro ss his face. "Yes, there is an opening , my pet. It's at one of my offices. Would you like to manage it?"
" Manage an office ?" I asked. "For what?" My heart pounded with excitement. Once again, he was reading my mind.
"It's just a subsidiary of StarChem," he said. "Strictly distribution. You wouldn't need to
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