The drive back to the mansion felt eternal, each kilometer increasing the anxiety that nested in my chest. The image of my father's serious expression as he said goodbye in the morning replayed in my mind, amplifying the uncertainty about his decision. Had they already contacted my tutors? What would they have said? Would my grades be good enough to justify my request?
Upon arrival, the mansion seemed steeped in a tense calm. My mother was in the living room, leafing through a magazine with an indecipherable expression. My father was nowhere in sight, which only increased my nervousness.
"You're back, Josephine," my mother said without looking up from her reading. "Your father is waiting for you in his study." Her tone was neutral, giving me no clue about the outcome of her conversation with the tutors.
With my heart pounding, I headed to my father's study. The dark wooden door seemed more imposing than usual. I took a deep breath before knocking softly.
"Come in," his voice resonated from inside.
I entered the study, feeling the weight of his inquisitive gaze instantly. He was sitting behind his mahogany desk, with several papers scattered in front of him. His face was serious, without a trace of the warmth that he sometimes, very rarely, showed.
"Sit down, Josephine," he indicated with a gesture.
I obeyed silently, taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk, feeling my hands dampen slightly. The silence stretched for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, while my father observed me intently.
Finally, he cleared his throat and picked up one of the papers in front of him. "I spoke with your tutors this morning, Josephine. And I have also reviewed your grades from the last semester." His tone was grave, keeping my heart in suspense. The decision he would make in the next few minutes would have a significant impact on my life and, by extension, on my relationship with Brianna and, above all, with Louie.
My father continued, his voice measured and analytical. "Regarding music and singing classes," he began to enumerate, leafing through the document in his hand, "everything is more than perfect. Your tutors mentioned that there is no instrument you cannot play perfectly, nor intonation you cannot achieve. They highlighted your exceptional talent and constant dedication." He paused briefly, looking up at me. "In that aspect, you have exceeded our expectations." A pang of relief made its way through my anxiety. At least in that area, my efforts had paid off.
"We continue with sewing and dressmaking," my father continued in a serious voice, moving to another of the papers. "Everything is perfect here as well. Again, your tutors assured me that you could open a clothing design and tailoring shop and it would be a resounding success. They mentioned your creativity, your precision, and your impeccable technique. It seems you have mastered this art perfectly." His tone, although serious, was not without a slight hint of pride, something that was not usual for him. I felt another small weight lift from my shoulders. Two areas where my efforts were recognized.
"Arts," my father continued, breaking down the different aspects, "where we include dance, drawing, and crafts... you are doing perfectly well in the same way. Your instructors assure me that you know the technique perfectly for everything. In dance, your grace and discipline are remarkable; in drawing, your perspective and detail are commendable; and in crafts, your creativity and neatness are exceptional." His detailed account began to generate a sense of hope in me. It seemed that my efforts in these areas had not gone unnoticed.
My heart skipped a beat when I heard my father's next words. "In etiquette and manners classes, you couldn't be more perfect." He paused briefly, and then, something I hadn't heard in a long time, resonated in the study: "In short, daughter..." Emotion and a pang of nostalgia hit me instantly.
He continued, and his next words caused a wave of relief to wash over me. "All those extracurricular classes I just mentioned are eliminated from your schedule. You have already reached perfection in each of those areas."
Then, he added something I would never have expected. "Your private language tutors and the tutors for the subjects with which we reinforce the education you receive at the preparatory school also affirmed that you were more advanced than the average student and that you can easily have the coefficient and knowledge of university students. That is to say, those extra hours are also eliminated. You will only see them at the end of the year to continue reviewing your coefficient."
Finally, his gaze softened slightly, and a tone that I vaguely remembered from my childhood filtered into his voice. "Regarding your high school grades, you are the highest-scoring student, so you deserve my congratulations for achieving the perfection that we have been demanding of you since you were a child. I am very proud of you."
His words, although laden with the usual coldness, carried with them an approval that I secretly longed for. The freedom from those extra hours, the possibility of having time for Brianna and Louie, felt like a huge weight lifting from my shoulders. A small, involuntary smile touched my lips.
The wave of relief that had overwhelmed me suddenly cooled with my father's next words. "Starting today, you will have all your afternoons free." A small spark of joy tried to ignite within me, but it was quickly extinguished by the conditions he added. "I will give you more freedom, yes, but you will always have to be accompanied by one or two bodyguards and go everywhere with your driver." My brow furrowed slightly. Freedom, but under constant surveillance?
His tone hardened as he continued. "You are not allowed to lower your grades, and you are forbidden to have a boyfriend, much less if he is not of your social standing. Inevitably you will have to continue associating with that type of people, as long as they don't enter the mansion, everything is perfect." His gaze was piercing, making it clear that this "freedom" came with a series of unbreakable restrictions.
The last warning echoed in the silence of the study, chilling me to the bone. "I warn you, Josephine, if you break any of these conditions, I will make your routine worse than it was before this moment." His voice was cold and authoritarian, erasing any illusion of true freedom. The free afternoons were a poisoned gift, tied to constant supervision and the outright prohibition of my relationship with Louie. The initial joy had turned into a bitter resignation. Something was better than nothing, but true freedom remained a distant dream.
I hurried up to my room, eager to shed the school uniform that now felt like a prison. As I put on more comfortable clothes, my fingers typed a quick message on my phone: "See you at Brianna's. Louie, love, I'll come pick you up." The thought of seeing them soon, under these new and slightly more permissive conditions, filled a void in my chest. Although I knew the shadow of the bodyguards would follow us, the prospect of being together, even if watched, was a ray of hope. Now I just hoped Louie would receive my message and that we could coordinate our meeting without raising suspicion. The afternoon promised to be a new challenge, but at least, a challenge we would face together.
I informed the bodyguard, as naturally as possible, that we would first pick up Louie before heading to Brianna's house. He nodded without asking questions, communicating with the driver to adjust the route. As the car started, I took out my phone and quickly wrote a message to Louie: "Love, remember: no kisses, glances, touches, or romantic nicknames. I'm accompanied, any misstep and goodbye to our little freedom." I sent the message with a pang of anxiety. I hated having to be so cautious, but my father's threat was too real to risk. The small window of opportunity that had opened was fragile and depended on our discretion.
Louie's response came almost immediately, a simple "Understood, my life. I'll be a saint," accompanied by an angel emoji with a halo. Despite its brevity, the message reassured me a little. I knew he would understand the gravity of the situation and would do everything possible not to raise suspicion.
The drive to Louie's house was relatively short. I saw him waiting for us on the sidewalk, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a carefully neutral expression on his face. As he got into the car, he greeted the bodyguard with a polite "Good afternoon" before sitting next to me. I tried to maintain my composure, limiting myself to a discreet smile and a brief brush of my hand against his, a fleeting but comforting contact.
During the drive to Brianna's house, we maintained a casual conversation about school and classes, avoiding any personal topics or any display of affection that might alert our silent companion. I felt the bodyguard's gaze in the rearview mirror from time to time, a constant reminder that we were under surveillance.
Upon arriving at Brianna's house, she was already waiting for us at the door with a radiant smile. Before allowing us to enter, the bodyguard insisted on getting out of the car and preceding me into the house. I saw him briefly inspect the living room, taking a quick look at the other rooms accessible from the entrance. After a few moments, he nodded, apparently satisfied with what he had seen.
He left the house and headed back to the car, parking right in front. "Anything, let me know, Miss," he said in his usual formal tone before closing the door.
Brianna, who had observed the whole scene with a mixture of surprise and indignation, finally let us in, closing the door behind us with an exaggerated sigh. "What a way to ruin the mood! Do they really have to check everything as if we were going to set up a criminal hideout?" Her comment, although full of frustration, also had a touch of humor. At least we were inside, and for a moment, the feeling of surveillance lessened slightly.
"Yeah, Bri," I replied with a sigh, still feeling the tension of my bodyguard's inspection. "I have to tell you about the conversation I had with my father."
At that moment, Louie approached from behind and hugged me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. His closeness was a palpable comfort, a silent reminder that I wasn't alone in this. "We're here to listen, my love," he whispered in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
Brianna sat down on the sofa, her eyes full of curiosity and concern. "What happened? Did he let you out or lock you up in the gilded cage for life?" Her attempt to lighten the mood was welcome, although we knew the situation was delicate.
"Something in between," I replied, leaning slightly into Louie's embrace. "He gave me permission to have free afternoons... but with conditions."
"Conditions?" Brianna and Louie asked in unison, their voices full of expectation.
I took a deep breath before beginning to recount the conversation with my father, from the surprising news of the elimination of my extracurricular classes to the restrictive conditions of my newfound freedom: the constant presence of bodyguards and the outright prohibition of any relationship that was not of my social standing. As I spoke, I felt Louie's grip tighten slightly around me, and I saw the indignation grow on Brianna's face. The partial freedom I had obtained had a bitter taste, but at least we were together to try and figure out how to navigate this new landscape.
When I finished telling them all the details, the silence in Brianna's living room was palpable. Disbelief and frustration were reflected on their faces.
Brianna was the first to break the silence, her voice full of indignation. "Seriously? Bodyguards all the time? That's like having an invisible leash! And the 'social standing' part... please! Are we in the 21st century or in a Jane Austen novel?"
Louie, still hugging me from behind, squeezed my hands gently. "It's... complicated," he said, searching for the right words. "At least he let you have free afternoons. That's a small step forward, isn't it?" His tone tried to be optimistic, but I perceived the worry in his eyes.
"A watched step forward," I retorted with a sigh. "It means that every time I want to see you, Louie, there will be two people following us. And forget about any public displays of affection." The thought of having to constantly hide our love, even in these small stolen moments, was exasperating.
Brianna got up and began to pace back and forth, gesturing with her hands. "But how are they supposed to...? Are they going to follow you to every corner? Are they going to spy on every conversation?"
"My father said they will only verify that everything is in order at the places we visit and then monitor the entrances," I explained. "But even so... the feeling of being constantly watched is not exactly liberating."
Louie separated from me and stood in front of me, taking my hands in his. "We'll find a way, Josephine. We always do. This is just a new layer of difficulty. We'll be more discreet, smarter. This free time is valuable, and we won't let some nosy bodyguards take it away from us." His gaze was firm, full of determination.
"He's right," Brianna interjected, stopping her pacing. "We can plan things at home. Movies, video games... things that don't attract attention from outside. And for moments alone... we'll have to be creative." Her mind was already working on possible solutions.
Despite the restrictions, a small spark of hope began to ignite within me. They were right. We couldn't let fear and frustration paralyze us. This was a new challenge, yes, but together we would find a way to overcome it. The promise of having more time with them, even if watched, was a powerful incentive not to give up.
Louie looked at Brianna with a serious expression but a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Brianna, could you lend us your living room and leave us alone, please?"
Brianna looked at him with a knowing smile that said it all. "Mmm... interesting request, Romeo. Alright, I'm going to my room. I'll be out in ten minutes, no more, no less, for a game of truth or dare, right?" Her tone was playful, making it clear that she perfectly suspected Louie's true intentions. She winked at us before getting up from the sofa with surprising agility and disappearing down the hallway, leaving us alone in the living room. The silence that remained between us was charged with a palpable electricity.
"I missed you, love," Louie whispered, his voice barely audible as he took my hands in his. "I can't believe how dependent I became on you during that week we spent together in the mansion." His grip was firm but tender, conveying the same need I felt.
"I missed you too," I replied in a thread of voice, feeling my eyes moisten slightly. The reality of the separation, even with the promise of seeing each other, was painful.
Louie lifted my hands and kissed them softly, one on each palm. "I know, my life. It's like we tasted a little piece of our own world, away from everything else, and now having to return to this... watched reality... feels suffocating." His gaze was sincere, reflecting the frustration we both shared.
"But at least we have this," I said, referring to the moment alone, however fleeting. "We have these small moments to remind ourselves that we are still here, that we are still together."
Louie nodded, moving even closer until our bodies brushed. "And we will make the most of them, every second." His hand rose to caress my cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles on my skin. "No matter how many bodyguards they put on us, nor how many rules your father tries to impose on you, Josephine. I will find a way to be with you. I always will." His promise, spoken with such conviction, made my heart beat faster, filling me with a mixture of love and hope.
Louie took my hand and gently guided me to the sofa, sitting down and pulling me to settle on his lap, nestled against his chest. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking his closeness as if he were my only refuge. He began to leave soft kisses all over my face, from my forehead to my chin, each touch a caress that comforted me and reminded me of his love. I played with his dark, almost curly hair, feeling the soft and slightly wavy texture between my fingers, enjoying this moment of stolen intimacy.
Suddenly, he stopped near my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "I want to try something," he whispered in a voice charged with a soft boldness. Before I could respond, he began to leave small, moist kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck, just below my ear. Each contact was a small electric shock that ran through my body, awakening sensations that I struggled to suppress under the watchful eyes of the possible invisible spies. It was an intimate and vulnerable gesture, a way to reaffirm our connection in a space where words and full caresses had to be carefully dosed.
The tickling of his lips on my neck sent a wave of warmth through my body, my mind for a moment completely forgetting the outside world and the possible prying eyes. Each new kiss stole a slight sigh from me, accompanied by a barely perceptible tremor of my skin.
"Damn it, love..." Louie whispered against my skin, his breath warm and ragged, as his lips descended a little further. A soft sigh escaped my lips.
He continued his gentle torture, leaving a trail of moist kisses. "...how do you know so well..." he repeated, his voice barely a murmur, making my skin crawl. "Louie..." I managed to say in a choked whisper.
His lips returned to my neck, stopping just below my ear. "...how you smell so good..." he exhaled, deeply inhaling my scent. My body shuddered at his touch.
He continued to explore the sensitivity of my skin with slow, deliberate kisses. "...how your skin is so soft..." he murmured in an increasingly hoarse voice, making a new sigh tremble on my lips. "Louie..."
Finally, his mouth stopped near my ear, his breath hot and moist. "...you're driving me crazy, love." His confession, spoken with such intensity, sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes, surrendering completely to the sensation, at least for this brief and forbidden moment. The outside world had vanished, leaving only the whirlwind of emotions that Louie awakened in me.
The sound of footsteps approaching down the hallway and Brianna's sing-song voice broke the intensity of the moment like a cold shower. Louie pulled away from my neck almost instantly, although his hands remained firmly on my hips, clinging to me as if he feared I would disappear. I opened my eyes just as Brianna re-entered the living room, a mischievous smile adorning her face.
"Time's up!" she exclaimed, stopping in front of us with her arms crossed. "Exactly ten minutes. Ready for truth or dare?" Her tone was light and playful, but the shrewd look in her eyes made it clear that she perfectly suspected what had been happening in her absence.
Louie gave me a quick glance, a mixture of mischief and guilty affection. A small smile touched his lips before he let go of my hips and leaned back on the sofa, patting the space next to him for me to sit beside him. "Always ready for a good game," he replied with feigned calm, although the slight blush on his cheeks gave him away. The bubble of intimacy had vanished, but the echo of his whispers and the sensation of his kisses lingered, a shared secret we would treasure until our next meeting alone.