Élisa's awakening from the feverish delirium, and the confirmation that Adrien had heard her moan his name, had shifted their dynamic. Awkwardness mingled with a strange daring. She belonged to him, that much was clear. But what would he do with this possession? Adrien's silence, after his unspoken confession, was heavier than any threat.
The next day, Élisa received a simple, concise message: "Come. Tonight." No address, just a precise meeting point in a neighborhood she knew only by name, near the old medina. She hesitated, her heart tight with apprehension. But curiosity, the overwhelming need to understand, and that dark attraction that inexorably pulled her towards him proved stronger.
She found him where he had indicated, leaning against an old wooden door adorned with intricate patterns, typical of Casablanca's architecture. Without a word, he opened the door and led her into a narrow, dark hallway. The air was heavy, scented with incense and secrets. He guided her through a maze of passages and stairs to a room at the back of a riad.
This was no ordinary room. It was the red room. The walls were draped with crimson fabrics, dark and thick, absorbing the light. Plush cushions were scattered on the floor. Soft, hypnotic music, with oriental sounds, floated in the air. Everywhere, old photographs were displayed, on shelves, hung on the hangings. And in many of them, Clara's face. Clara laughed, Clara posed, Clara lived through these snapshots. Élisa felt the trap closing around her, a noose made of past and desire. Every image of her sister here, in Adrien's lair, was a blow to her heart. But she stayed. She could no longer flee.
Adrien approached slowly, his shadow lengthening across the red hangings. He said nothing, but his dark gaze was a silent promise. He reached out, and his fingers rested on Élisa's neck, an unexpected warmth despite the damp air of the room. His fingers slowly descended, tracing a burning line along her spine, each movement making Élisa shiver. She closed her eyes for a moment, her senses on high alert. Then, he gently pushed her against the wall, his body pressed against hers in the sensual darkness of the red room.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his deep voice a dangerous whisper near her ear. Élisa felt her legs tremble. Her whole body was raw, torn between the fear of the unknown and a consuming attraction. She couldn't utter a word. She said nothing. Silence was her answer, a tacit admission that she was ready for whatever was to come.