Chapter 73 - 72 Restless Dreams
ALISTAIR
I stare at the dark ceiling. I listen to the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing. The cold shower did absolutely nothing to erase the electric shock still burning against my knuckles.
Sleep is a luxury I rarely afford myself.
I lie flat on my back on the dark leather sofa. The air conditioning chills the spacious master bedroom. Emily shifts under the heavy down comforter on the mattress across the room. The quiet rustle of the expensive sheets fills the silence.
She murmurs something in her sleep.
I frown and sit up, looking closer at her so I can hear what she’s murmuring.
“I will star...”
Star? Star in what?
She goes quiet again but after a few seconds, the murmuring returns. Her voice is still muffled by the pillow, but the words are clearer this time.
"Alistair.”
Oh. Alistair. Not ‘I will star’.
Why is she calling my name in her sleep?
“Alistair,” she mutters again really slowly. “I will stand at the exact same height as you."
I tilt my head more toward the bed. I try to press my lips together to stop myself from smiling but instead, a quiet chuckle escapes my throat. She plans to match my level of influence. She intends to build an empire of her own. Her ambitions are certainly not small.
I reach into my trouser pocket. My fingers brush the cool glass of the small brown bottle she handed me earlier. I pull the custom essential oil out and unscrew the black cap.
A crisp, herbal scent immediately rises from the opening. Crushed valerian root and sharp cedarwood hit my nose. The aroma is earthy and deeply comforting. I hold the bottle close to my chest. I expect absolutely nothing to happen. Years of aggressive, stubborn insomnia do not simply vanish because of a pleasant smell.
I close my eyes. I take a slow, deep breath of the cedarwood and I don’t really remember what happens after.
** ** **
Bright, aggressive sunlight hits my eyelids and pulls me out of sleep. The sharp chirping of a finch sounds clearly through the glass balcony doors.
I open my eyes. I blink rapidly against the morning glare.
The first sight I see is of my wife.
Emily is standing at the edge of the mattress. She is wearing a fitted black athletic pair of leggings and a breathable white training shirt. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight, practical ponytail.
I don’t take my eyes off her as she grabs the thick white comforter and smooths the wrinkles from the sheets with quick, efficient movements.
I sit up. My muscles feel entirely rested. The familiar, heavy fog of sleep deprivation is completely gone. I reach for my phone resting on the glass coffee table.
The digital clock displays 8:47 AM.
I stare at the glowing white numbers. I never sleep past six in the morning. I trace the edge of the brown glass bottle sitting next to my phone. The custom essential oil actually worked. It bypassed my overactive mind and forced my body into genuine, restorative rest.
My movement seems to wake her up and she turns around.
"Good morning, Alistair." Her dark eyes are bright and alert. Her pale skin holds a healthy, energetic flush.
"Good morning," I reply. I run a hand through my messy hair. "You are not heading to the armory for marksmanship."
"Leo changed my schedule." She stretches her arms high over her head. Her spine pops quietly. "I do physical conditioning and equipment training for the first half of the day. Marksmanship takes up the entire second half."
She drops her arms to her sides.
I look at her hands. The sleek black lizard skin of Adolf’s custom gloves covers her palms. The dark leather contours flawlessly to her slender fingers. The thick padding protects her raw blisters exactly as I designed them to do.
A genuine smile touches the corners of my mouth. She accepted the gift.
"I need to start my conditioning." She waves a gloved hand at me. "Have a good day at the office."
She walks out the door. Her energetic footsteps fade quickly down the long carpeted hallway.
The smile deepens on my face. I stand up from the sofa and stretch my arms wide. A rare sense of complete ease settles deep into my bones.
** ** **
EMILY
The cellar armory smells of cold steel and stale sweat.
I stand in front of the perforated paper target. I raise the heavy training pistol. The black leather gloves grip the metal perfectly. The exotic lizard skin absorbs the harsh friction. My raw blisters do not sting at all. I pull the trigger. The loud crack rings in my ears. The recoil punches my shoulder, but I keep my wrists locked.
I spend the entire morning perfecting my stance. The afternoon is infinitely worse.
Leo runs me through brutal strength conditioning. I lift heavy iron kettlebells. I perform endless repetitions of core stabilization exercises on a thin rubber mat.
My lower back aches with a deep, throbbing intensity. Every muscle fiber in my arms burns like fire. I endure the pain. I push through the complete exhaustion. I want to build an impenetrable armor. I refuse to be weak ever again.
The training session finally ends. I drag my heavy legs up the steep concrete stairs.
I step into the massive marble bathroom and take a fast, scalding shower. The hot water eases some of the sharp tension knotting my back muscles. I change into clean gray sweatpants and a loose cotton t-shirt.
I walk into the bedroom and sit down at the mahogany desk. I open my heavy cardiovascular anatomy textbook. The dense medical jargon usually calms my mind.
A light knock sounds at the door. Lily peeks her head into the room. She wears a bright yellow sundress. She holds a stuffed white rabbit by its long, floppy ear.
"Can we play?" Lily asks. Her big round eyes look up at me with absolute hope.
I close the medical text immediately. I slide out of the desk chair and sit down on the plush carpet. We spend the next two hours building a massive fort out of decorative pillows. We host a serious tea party for the stuffed rabbit.
The sun sets. The sky outside the balcony doors turns pitch black. Lily finally returns to her own room for bedtime.
Complete exhaustion crashes over me the second she leaves. I walk slowly toward the massive bed. My arms feel like lead weights. I collapse face-first onto the mattress. I don’t bother pulling the heavy comforter over my shoulders. I simply close my eyes and fall straight into a dark, silent void.
ALISTAIR
The master bedroom is entirely silent. I walk through the doorway and loosen my silk tie.
Emily lies completely still on top of the mattress. She wears casual gray sweatpants and a wrinkled cotton t-shirt. Her dark hair spills wildly across the pristine white pillowcase. She sleeps entirely on top of the covers. The night air blowing through the air conditioning vents is decidedly cool.
I walk over to the edge of the bed. I reach down and gently nudge her left shoulder.
"Emily," I say. I keep my tone extremely soft. "Pull the covers up."
She groans quietly. Her eyelids flutter open. She looks up at me with a foggy, confused expression. She blinks slowly, registering her surroundings.
"I fell asleep," she whispers. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.
"You need a blanket," I reply. The usual sharp, commanding edge of my voice is completely absent.
She sits up slowly. She winces and grabs her lower back. Her sore muscles clearly protest the sudden movement. She rubs the tight knot near her spine, but she doesn’t complain. She grabs her folded dark blue silk pajamas from the foot of the bed. She walks sluggishly into the bathroom to change.
I walk over to the leather sofa. I sit down and pull my phone from my suit pocket. I scroll through pending corporate emails, but my focus remains on the closed bathroom door.
The door clicks open. Emily emerges wrapped in the dark blue silk. The smooth fabric glides over her figure. She walks back to the bed and crawls under the thick down comforter.
"Goodnight, Alistair," she says. Her voice is thick and heavy with exhaustion.
"Goodnight," I answer.
She falls asleep almost instantly. I set my phone face down on the glass coffee table. I lean back against the leather cushions. I watch her sleep.
She tosses her head to the side. A small, painful moan escapes her parted lips. The intense physical conditioning is taking a severe toll on her body. She hurts constantly. Her hands are raw. Her back is strained. Yet, she refuses to complain. She refuses to ask Leo for an easier routine.
I think about the words she muttered last night. I think about her fierce determination to master the firearm today despite her injuries. She desires a medical degree, corporate equity, and physical dominance. She wants to stand shoulder to shoulder with the most powerful men in this city.
I stare at her pale face illuminated by the moonlight. She possesses a staggering amount of ambition. She backs that ambition up with absolute, undeniable tenacity. She is a truly formidable force.