195
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
I think for several seconds before answering his question, and then I speak.
"That day, the day I came to the house, the person who entered wrote a message on the wall of our room."
"What message?"
"It said it was my fault and I would pay for it," I confess. "I didn't understand it well at that moment, but I think it referred to what happened to you..."
"That doesn't make sense; you know that nothing that happened was your fault."
"Apparently that person believes otherwise. Could they see his face in the recordings?"
"No. Although the police are working to find something that helps identify him, Juliette, you won't be anywhere without security."
"Gérard, this still seems excessive to me."
"It's not. There will be security throughout the house twenty-four hours a day, and you won't leave here without them. Four guards will always accompany you."
"Four? No way," I retort, firmly refusing.
Who does he think I am? The president?
"Things are not up for discussion," he warns me.
"Gérard."
"That's enough, I told you it's not up for discussion."
"As you wish," I reply, annoyed by all this exaggeration. "I hope they don't follow me to the bathroom, at least."
I walk towards the second floor heading to the bedroom, completely irritated.
Upon entering the room, I inevitably slam the door shut, a sound that I suppose echoes all the way down to the main floor. I understand that he's worried, that I kept too much from him, but I don't need four reckless men trailing behind me at all hours when I'm out.
I can tolerate them being around the house, but not around me. The last thing I want is to feel like my life is in danger all the time, and having those guards with me constantly makes me paranoid.
When I set down the bag I was carrying, I hear the door open and as I turn, I see Gérard entering. I quickly avert my gaze and avoid his attempt to touch me.
He sighs exasperatedly and then takes a seat at the foot of the bed, while I try to focus on brushing my hair so I don't have to look at him.
I love him, but sometimes I really can't stand him.
"I forgot to tell you that Paul is celebrating his birthday today. He's having a gathering at his house and he invited us," he says, breaking the silence. "Do you want to go?"
In response to his question, I just shrug without saying anything.
"Juliette," he calls my name insistently, not getting a response. "Fine, now you're going to ignore me. But you know what, do whatever you want."
He lies back on the bed, then takes out his phone and ignores the situation.
Rolling my eyes in frustration, I begin to remove the clothes I'm wearing to take a shower. I strip off each garment that covers me, and though I don't directly see it, I can sense that he doesn't take his eyes off me.
I confirm this when I turn towards him and remove the only garment left, my bra.
"What?"
"What 'what'? Can't I look at you now?"
"No."
"I struggle to understand why you get annoyed with me when I'm just trying to protect you," he says, recomposing himself.
"Don't talk about it anymore, Tiberius. You told me that things are not up for discussion," I say, heading towards the bathroom.
"How did you call me?" I hear him ask.
"Tiberius!" I shout his second name.
"Don't call me that again," he retorts, also entering the bathroom.
"That's your name," I shrug, closing the shower door so he won't come in with me.
I notice his intense and intimidating gaze on me, but I continue with my shower, letting out a deep sigh when he leaves. After several minutes under the water, I dry myself thoroughly and search for the clothes I'm going to wear for Paul's celebration.
As I head towards the closet, I see Gérard walking straight into the bathroom without saying anything. But just like before, I didn't pay any attention to it and put on the tight satin mini dress in a pearly gray shade. I also slip on white high-heeled sandals with ankle laces.
I dry and comb my hair, which now reaches my waist, leaving it straight. When I move on to applying makeup, I catch a glimpse of Gérard through the mirror as he approaches his closet, letting the towel he had wrapped around his hips fall.
I observe every step and movement he makes as he searches for his clothes while being naked. However, I quickly avert my gaze when he turns around, noticing how much I'm watching him.
I pretend to take a brush to apply some blush, but as I raise my eyes again, I see that he's now facing me, slowly pulling up the black Calvin Klein boxer briefs while looking in the mirror.
"What?" he snaps as his gaze meets mine.
"What 'what'?" I reply, seriously.
"Why are you staring at me so much?"
"I'm not staring at you, Tiberius," I retort falsely indignant, immediately causing him to scowl at how I've addressed him. He hates it.
A while later, we both leave the house to go to Paul's place, and I'm surprised to see Gérard getting into one of his cars instead of one of the SUVs.
"Aren't I supposed to have five hundred guards trailing behind me all the time?" I inquire with irony.
"They'll be following us in the SUV."
Looking towards the SUV, I indeed notice all the guards getting into it.
Resigned to all of this, I finished getting into "my sweetheart's" car, and we set off from the house with an escort heading to the celebration.
I can't ignore that this time, unlike others, he doesn't attempt to put his hand on my leg. He remains focused on the road and in a silence that I take it upon myself to break.