Page 5 of The Devil
The greenness that is practically radiating outside pulls me straight over to the glass doors so I can take a better look at the gardens behind Hasting’s Villa. An azure blue, large swimming pool sits just beyond the decking and is standing still with sunlight dancing on top of the surface. There are deck chairs and sunbeds dotted around the perimeter, each with matching cushions of navy and white stripes. Standing to the side, there is another bar area, fully stocked with enough booze to serve a post-prom party, and still have some left over for fun. I can only imagine the parties Lucius throws and feel instantly relieved to know I can lock it all out. My room will serve as a haven in which I can hide. If only it had the same collection of books I could find at home, then I could pretend I was still there.
Beyond the pool, there is a manicured lawn of perfectly green grass, mowed in neat, methodical straight lines. It’s so immaculate, I doubt anyone ever sets foot on it. To the left of the lawn, there are tennis courts and a wooden barn, a gym maybe. Behind the lawn, there is a garden area with colors gushing out from an array of plants, herbs, and flowers. Even further behind, there is a tall bush marking the boundary of the property.
The garden intrigues me the most, almost calling me to go and explore, but when I try the door handle, I find that it’s locked. Instinctively, I look around for a key but there doesn’t seem to be one.
“Looking for something?” a low, velvety voice asks from behind me, making me jump over the sudden intrusion.
I already know it’s him without looking, his voice is so distinctive, being that it usually sounds so unconcerned by anything. When I do finally turn to face Lucius, I bite the corner of my mouth to stop a nervous grin from spreading across my face. The last thing I want to do is let him know how much he intimidates me.
Smirking to himself, he saunters over to where I’m standing with his hands in his pockets, looking beyond confident in his own skin; I wonder how that feels. I wonder what it’s like to not worry about anything or anyone because you’ve learned to only satisfy yourself. No one else’s opinion matters, just your own. Howdoesthat feel?
Taking that information on board, I quickly conclude that Lucius can only be here to play with me for his own amusement, so I make an executive decision to say as little as possible. He pulls the small silver key from his jeans’ pocket and places it inside the lock of the bi-fold doors, unlocking it with virtually no effort whatsoever as soon as it hits the metal.
“Thank you,” I say as quietly as possible while still sounding polite. “Do you usually carry that key around in your pocket?”
What the hell, Helena? I thought we agreed to stay tight-lipped!
Lucius merely offers a shrug before about turning and wandering off into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“Ok,” I whisper to myself, feeling relieved to have gotten away with opening my mouth.
As quickly as I can, I open the door to get away from him. The moment the light breeze hits me, it feels as though I’ve reached the surface and can breathe again.
With my sights set on the garden ahead, I make my way over, the lawn taking longer to cross than I had first anticipated. As I approach the stunning colorful display before me, I instinctively take in the amazing scents that invade my nostrils. Whoever planted it all included fragrant herbs, roses, jasmine, lilac, and honeysuckle, plus many more I should imagine. It’s a bee’s personal heaven and I smile as they buzz around collecting their early evening nectar. Butterflies rest on nearby petals, and some early summer seeds are floating around in the breeze. I indulge myself by walking around touching, smelling, and looking; it has me feeling at home.
A clatter of buckets hit the gravel, causing me to jump around to face a tall man who is wearing gardening attire. Standing up straight, he sees me and looks equally surprised by my presence. He’s in his mid-forties, I would hazard a guess, and is very handsome. So much so, he could easily pass for a model or an actor. In fact, as I take in his tall, fair, and rough-around-the-edges appearance, he strikes me that he could easily pass for a Viking. Tattoos lace around his incredibly thick arms and he has a few piercings in his left ear. His smile is friendly but with a hint of deviousness behind it, the type that makes you want to spend the afternoon listening to him tell you all about how he got each and every one of those tattoos.
“Sorry to startle you,” he says in a friendly manner, his voice croaky and with a hint of what I believe to be an Irish accent. “I’m not used to seeing people out here. You lose your way?”
“No, I’m Merial’s cousin,” I explain, “just staying here for the summer. Did you do all this?” I ask, gesturing to the garden that hums and flourishes all around us. He nods with obvious pride over his little oasis. “Wow, it’s gorgeous,” I tell him with a genuine smile. “I love the way you’ve incorporated wildflowers too; great for the bees.”
“Thank you,” he says, looking almost shocked that I’d noticed. “I don’t usually have any of the inhabitants come and take note of this garden. I’m just left to do whatever I want with it. Kind of lucky, I guess.”
“I love being outside,” I mutter, almost to myself, “and it smells amazing out here.”
“Well, I started with the herbs, then slowly added different flowers. Get a lot of weeds though,” he says as he gestures to the full buckets. “You like to garden?”
“I’m ashamed to say I’ve never really done it. Must be quite therapeutic and rewarding,” I reply shyly. Talking to strangers, especially older, rugged, and attractive male ones, is usually about as appealing as a trip to the dentist, but this man surprisingly puts me at ease.
“I can give you your own little plot if you like?” he offers at the same time as peeling off his gardening gloves and chucking them into the bucket of weeds. He then wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his thick, inked arms, and I can’t help but stare with a sense of awe. “I’ll show you where the potting shed is and tell you which plants would be best to grow at this time of year,” he tells me, snapping me out of my ogling. I cannot remember having ever ogled anyone before; it’s a strange sensation. “Only if that appeals to you though?”
“I’d love that,” I answer rather too enthusiastically, so try to rein it in a little without being too obvious. “Got a whole summer to kill here. I don’t exactly fit in with the rest of them. Shocking, huh?”
I laugh softly with my cheeks beginning to burn through embarrassment.
“Me neither,” he says, returning my laughter with his own, “but I can’t fault them really. Paul and Lucius have been very good to me. Top blokes, both of them.” His words instantly cause me to frown, for I’ve never heard Lucius being described as anything other than wicked. He smiles at me, as though he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Come by here tomorrow, about ten, and I’ll show you everything.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I smile as I watch him pick up the buckets to take them behind a small wooden shed, feeling strangely pleased with myself for making a friend of sorts.
“Consorting with the help, I see?” Lucius’ voice surprises me yet again, but I don’t flinch this time. “We can get you your own employee benefits if you like.”
He takes a drag on what I can only assume is weed, given the smell which is now cutting through the beautiful fragrances of the garden and invading my senses.
“Can I help you with something, Lucius?” I ask with a sigh of frustration over his lurking around me like a dark shadow. “You seem to be following me about.”
He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly while puffing out some smoke into a thin stream that billows away until it can no longer be seen. I watch it evaporate into nothing while he stares at me without expression.