Amidst Crimson Kisses

Chapter Three: Blonde Gentrification

Margo's POV

I glance out the window, watching the rainfall as it pours on the bustling streets of Manhattan. I never lived under a horizon that wasn't hanging over vibrant roses rather than glistening skyscrapers. I've always watched water brew at the top of a cliff, and gush down jagged edged stones other than man made fountains. Even the uproar of the city was hushed compared to the clamor of the birds as they sung soulfully every morning, but in New York City nature is quiet. I have lived in Vermont as long as I can remember at least until my father declared I was too much of a liability.

The limousine halts in front of a golden gate pieced together from titanium and the shards of diamonds. Frank rolls down the window, signaling to a man behind the entrance dressed in a white suit as he nods in confirmation. I watch the gate unfold, revealing the entirety of the terrine as Frank peers over his shoulder with a smile. "Margo, I want to be the first to welcome you to Goulding Manor." He says, stretching his hand over the landscape before us.

The driveway sweeps on for miles as beautiful emerald green blades of grass become uniform. I snort loudly, ogling an array of carnations as they bloom through hedges. It isn't the flowers stabbing a dagger through my heart, but rather the sculpted fountain with the curves of a woman yet the beauty of an angel. I fawn madly over its resemblance to a woman's figure and the familiar detail of its design almost like I've seen her before. The estate expands before me as fiery lights ignite inside the pearly white mansion decked with gray shingles.

I step outside the charcoal black limousine, stretching my legs for the first time in over two hundred miles as Frank carries a garbage bag with my clothes inside the house. The sun bathes in my irises as I gander around the area. I take in the scenery as the forest encloses all around me. When I'm lost in the picturesque beauty, my attention wanders until it lands on the sculpted woman's rendering as she gazes out the window with bottomless eyes. I rush inside the house, taking several deep breaths as I cross the threshold of her home.

I walk into encrusted, eggshell-colored walls with gold trimming etched inside the paint. A crystal chandler suspends from the ceiling, draping down in midair as an imperial staircase adorned in Azaleas descends next to the entrance. My boots click on the floor as I stroll to the painting at the end of the living room. Swatches of royal blue and a quiff of platinum awaken tailored to a man immersed in ivory with the epitome of forlorn. His chiseled cheekbones abduct his smile as his piercing eyes contemplate morality through his raised brow.

He's everything I've ever fantasized in a man before, and I can't help but feel entangled in his many delicacies. Although, my heart skips a beat as I realize the enchantress reigning next to him. It's the same woman whose carved beauty graces every aspect of Goulding Manor. I analyze golden blonde ringlets, encompassing her waistline as her dandelion yellow dress drapes in his right hand. She's more gentle in his arms like the stillness of a sunrise, and it's a paradox to me because she's not wearing anyone's skin whenever she's in his mercy.

"Juliet always had that effect on people," a voice mourns in a whisper. "She never sought after attention; it only found her when she didn't want it."

I study the woman next to me as she stands tall in candy red stilettos in a black pantsuit. The way she alludes with candor antagonizes me but leisure masquerades in her poise, beckoning undivided attention whenever she speaks to someone. No doubt she's the infamous, Gwendolyn Goulding. The woman from the phone, who had lectured my father on his way to prison about apathy even when he wholeheartedly beseeched her about my mother's costly medical bills and our famine. I can't help but roll my eyes at her sudden empathy.

"Can you just show me where I can find my room?" I ask, turning my back to all my fantasies.

Gwendolyn cautiously smiles as she faces me, "Margo, I know everything is a little overwhelming." she says, pacing her words. "The crystal chandeliers, the lucid paintings, and even the seclusion of the world. But this place is only captivating if you allow it to be."