Fifty Shades of Klaus : Chapter 9

I make my way to the mouth of the mansion. Giving it a light knock, I wait. No longer than two minutes after my knock, the door opens; holding it is a petite woman with jet-black hair. Her skin is a hint darker than Bonnie's, but her face wasn't familiar at all. I confess to making very little research about their family but I'm very sure that there are only two Mikaelson women.

Who is this? “I'm here to see Klaus?” I said. She didn't reply. She just stood there, suspiciously staring intently into my eyes. I flinch in discomfort. “Klaus Mikaelson,” I clarify.

She glares at me with an aura of dominance surrounding her. I gulp. Who is she?! “You're not on the list. Kindly leave immediately.”

I gape at her. This is unbelievable! Elijah forced me to come here only so that their butler — or whatever she is — could tell me to scram? No. I'm not letting this happen. “Could you double check? I'm Caroline Forbes. I'm here for the interview.”

Rolling her eyes for what seemed like a decade of silence, she smirks arrogantly. “I’ve said it once and I'll say this again. Not. On. The. List.” It's taking all of me not to attack her. Outrageous! Just incredibly, maddening.

“You didn't even check!” I spat. Sighing in exasperation, I mentally decided to go back home. This is pointless. I am not sitting by and allow their family to make a fool out of me. Before I was even able to turn my back to her, I hear a woman's voice in the background.

“Mindy, what did I tell you about opening the door?” she pauses, “Didn't I tell you never to open the door for us, especially when someone's in the mansion?” That sexy, sultry voice doesn't leave my long-term memory. That was definitely Katherine.

Mindy turns her head to face Katherine with a terrified expression. Gone are her arrogant smirks. “Lady Katherine,” she whispers. The sexy Bulgarian approaches her in a domineering manner. She circles around the servant and makes a “tush” sound.

Stopping before the direction Mindy was facing, she takes several steps closer to her, totally invading the girl's intimate zone in terms of social distances. She gives Mindy's eyes a good stare. To my surprise, I see Mindy's eyes dilate in the strangest way possible. “This is Caroline Forbes. She's Klaus' friend. Every time she comes here, you let her in. You respect her. Do you understand?”

“Y-Y-Yes.”

Giving her a wicked smirk, Katherine relaxes and crosses her arms. She preserves the intensive glare, “Now, why don't you run along with your dogs and take a walk. I'll handle it from here.”

Mindy nods at her and turns away, still in the trance. What was that? Did she just hypnotize her? She couldn't have. “Caroline,” she says, greeting me while trying to be cute.

I couldn't play with her right now. I am appalled! “What did you do to her?” I shout.

Rolling her eyes, she gives me a smirk. “What are you talking about?” she says, nonchalantly.

“I don't know! You hypnotized her or something! How did you do that?” I spit.

She closes the space between us, invading my intimate zone just like she did with Mindy. She looks into my eyes. I see her pupils dilate and gaze into mine. “You didn't see anything. Forget about what you saw.”

I took a step back. “You're doing it again. You're trying to hypnotize me!”

Katherine gulps in an alarmed manner. Her eyes filled with confusion and worry. She doesn’t grasp something here. There is something that isn't normal. She doesn't understand why I didn't comply.

I suddenly hear another voice from the inside. A blonde beauty appears in front on my eyes. She came out of nowhere! I jump. “So, you are the infamous Caroline.” She circles around me, looking at me from head to toe, “You look more like dinner to me.” She gives me a menacing smirk. Letting out a little moan, “Your neck gives me generous whiff of your blood. I suddenly remember how thirsty I am.”

Fear and horror creeps into me. I feel my fight or flight response climbing into my system. “Rebekah,” the bombshell brunette calls, pulling the blonde's right arm. “Stop.”

Shaking her arm free, Rebekah grins in the most dangerous manner and takes a clump of my hair. She sniffs it, “You smell of cherries and lilacs. It's intoxicating.” She starts circling around me again.

“Rebekah,” Katherine whispers, “She's on vervain.”

In a split second, I was suddenly thrown to the wall in the mansion with a forearm crushing my neck and my feet dangling probably four inches above the ground. I could feel my throat closing in, crushing itself little by little. I tried to peel the arm away. My vision starts fading. Starting to lose my consciousness due to the lack of air in my blood, I struggle underneath my attackers arms.

My clouded vision couldn't see who was holding me up. I tried my best to push the person away from me, but she was strong. Very strong. I hear my voice croak as I tried to breathe from my mouth. A demanding voice twiddles in my ears, “Whom are you working for?” when I didn't answer, she asks again, “Where did you get vervain?”

The strain on my neck become stronger, clenching my throat in a way that would kill me. But in another split second, I feel the pressure disappear. I collapse to the silver-tiled floor. My head hit the ground very hard. I moan with the sudden blow in my head.

There were background noises that I couldn't comprehend, but I managed to decode a few. “Rebekah, what were you thinking?” it was a man's voice, but I don't know whose. All of my senses are somehow distorted. I feel someone pull me off the ground. The slender arms affirm that it is a woman. I cling to her. I couldn't feel my legs and I couldn't find balance. A part of me is suddenly thankful that someone is helping me scram away from this commotion.

I hear a door close behind us. She gently puts me down on bed and whips my hair away from my face. I see a figure lean in and whisper, “I'll call Klaus. Stay put.” The familiar voice is Katherine's.

What did I just witness? This is outrageous. I can’t believe what my eyes just saw. They’re people with incredible strengths and capabilities, people who can run at indefinite speed. What if Katherine wasn't doing hypnotism? What if it was something else? And what is vervain? I don't have anything with me. Either way, what danger does me having vervain inflict to them? But the main question is, what are they?

I rest my head on the bed. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to clear my vision. Some of my senses revert back to normal. I could hear the commotion very clearly from in here. There was glass broken, tables smashed and shouts exchanged. I could still feel the tension around my neck. I could've died. Bonnie was right. I should've stayed away.

Forcing my body upright, I get up from the bed. The room was spinning. I hold on to the chair beside me for support. Hearing the door open, my head turns to that direction, but my vision still isn't clear enough. It was a man, but who? Elijah? Kol? Klaus? Or maybe another mysterious Mikaelson.

“Caroline,” I hear. Yup, it's definitely Klaus.

My legs suddenly give in and I collapse to the ground again, but Klaus catches my head before it hits the floor. He cradles me and brings me to the bed in the way a gentleman would. He gently lays my head on the pillow and sits beside me. “How are you feeling, love?”

I breathe out an audible exhale, “I'm fine. I want to go home.”

He chuckles lightly, probably because I sound like a child right now. “You can stay here. Rest.”

“No!” I shout, forcing myself to get up. “I don't want to do this anymore.”

He sighs, “Caroline, if you want to ask me something, I'll explain it to you. You are in terrible condition right now, and you cannot leave. Stay put and rest. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

I glare, “I'm not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

I sigh in exasperation. Suddenly, I remember my purpose for coming here. The interview. “Look, I'm fine. I just want to do the interview and get it over with. Can we please just do that?”

He looks down for a minute and gets up to his feet. He leaves me in the room and comes back several minutes after. With Elijah behind him, “Everybody has left. Kol is trying to take Rebekah as far away as possible from here. Finn is on a business meeting, and I need to leave. Kol is not going to hold Rebekah for long and I need to handle her situation. I apologize.”

Giving him a weak smile, I swing my legs off the bed. “Then I should go. I'll just tell my boss I couldn't do it.”

Elijah looks at me apologetically, “Your job is on the line. I won't allow you to throw away the opportunity. You should write an article about my brother. Our family has had great publicity over the years, but all of it would not have been possible if it weren't for him.”

I shake my head, “I can't. My boss wants an interview with the Mikaelson's, not Klaus.”

“I'm sure your boss would be equally as pleased.” With that said, he leaves the room.

“Shall we?” Klaus asks. I pick myself off the bed. In my peripheral vision, I could see Klaus wanting to rush to my side to help me. I give him a finger to signal him to stay where he is. His shoulders fall in disappointment. We make our way to the opposite side of the room, sitting opposite each other.

I take out my phone and suddenly realize that I don't have anything else with me. Embarrassed with that fact, I look up at him, “I need a pen and paper.” I say.

He chuckles, snatches a pad of paper from the coffee table, and hands it to me followed by a pen. I smile at him in gratitude. “I'd like this to be strictly formal and business. Let us talk like you’re the boss and I'm just a journalist.” I sigh as he nodded. “Do you mind if I record the interview? Don't worry. I’ll edit out anything that you don’t want publicized.”

“I do not mind, love. Go ahead.”

I roll my eyes at his term of endearment, “Are you ready, sir?” I say the word 'sir' with much emphasis as to remind him that we must stay strictly formal. He nods at me. I browse through the set of questions I have prepared. There weren't many questions addressed to him personally. I guess I'd just have to wing it from here. “To have amassed such an empire at the age that you were, to what do you suppose you owe your success?” He gives me a rueful smile, but somewhat seems disappointed by my first question.

He laughs, “It's all about the people, Ms. Forbes. I am an excellent judge of character. I know what builds and breaks a person. Their gratification tells me that I am doing something right. And having an exceptional family to support me doesn’t hurt. That’s why I make it an obligation to reward them well.” Reward? Does that imply that his family is forced to surround him? “I personally believe that for success to occur, one must be a master of any arrangement that promotes success. Decisions made from logic and facts are one of the wonders. And a natural ability to make good decisions is also a great advantage.”

Trying my best to follow his words, I rapidly scribble on the paper. “Or maybe you're just lucky?” I spit. Who would've thought that a side like this exists in him? If he keeps up this attitude, I might actually have a good material for the article. Mentally kicking myself on the butt when I realized what I just asked, “Let me rephrase that, sir. Have you ever thought that this may be a result of good luck?”

“I do not advocate luck or chance, Ms. Forbes. The work that I do is not easy and luck cannot mold this, no matter how good you think luck is. If I do not rule the city right, if I do not treat the people right, then this still would not happen. I believe it is Harvey Firestone who said that the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.” He explained.

I roll my eyes and whisper, too low for anyone to hear; “You forgot to mention that you're also a control maniac.” Head down, I scribble the quote he shared. All the sudden, I hear him laugh. I still. He heard me. Oh crap! I bite my lower lip, keeping my embarrassment hidden from his vision.

He replies to my silent retort with a gentle laugh, “Control is not something a person craves. It is a need in this world. No society can survive without anyone in control. So, yes. You can put it like that. Having to be able to control everything gives you this immense amount of power. And who wouldn't like that?”

“With your current state in life, you believe that you have immense power?”

A roar of laughter echo through my ears, “I rule a city, Ms. Forbes. Doing so gives me a certain sense of autocracy. If I were to decide to abandon the city and leave it in incapable hands, all the locals would have to suffer. The luxurious life of the locals would be on the line.” He pauses, “Locals like you, Ms. Forbes.”

I gape at him, staggered by his lack of humility. My hand clench into a fist. How can he be so arrogant in situations like this? We're talking about control, but all that I feel him do is make me feel that he is far more superior than I am. “Moving on, sir,” I say. If he's not going to be polite, then I'm not going to give him the chance not to sound polite. “I hear you invest a huge amount of money on art. Like funding the City Museum with money straight from your own pocket. How much of that is true?” He doesn’t answer. “Sir, why do you invest your money on art?” I repeat.

“The question, Ms. Forbes, is why not art?” He pauses, “I love to paint.” He smiles. His smile was so genuine that it makes me want to forget how much of an ass he has been answering me earlier. “The pleasure in viewing other people's artworks and buying them is the perfect vindication to fund them. If there weren't any funds, there wouldn't be any more art to share.” He chuckles, “I have a love for art. What more can I say?”

Giving him a raised eyebrow, “That sounds more like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.” A roar of laughter echoes across the wide room. I give him a look, “Do you find something funny, Mr. Mikaelson?”

His lips quirk up, “Well, I find it amusing that you thought that way of me. Most people would say that I didn't have a heart.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

I mentally roll my eyes at him, “And why would they think that way?”

He gives it a minute to think, “Because they are familiar with my philosophy.”

Biting my lower lip, I dare to ask. “And what does your family say about that philosophy?”

Taking in a long heavy breath, “They don't say much. They're rather terrified of my capabilities. As much as I try to show them my good side, it never seems to get through.” He tries to look and sound wry, but I knew well enough of his natural composure that I was certain he was emotionally hurt.

My inner goddess takes over the motor neurons inside of me as I was writing his answers down. I didn't have the time to take it back or stop myself when I spoke. “You know, everybody has a heart. You just have to learn to use it.” I pause, finishing my statement with a whisper, “Somewhere in there, you're just misunderstood.” I tense. How do I take that back? As I scribbled on the paper, I sneak a glance at his reaction to my words. He was smiling.

His smile made me smile. It's so contagious! I swallow. Stay focused, Caroline! I let out an unnerving breath, “Okay. So, words spread out fast. The most fascinating exposé people gossip about is the lack of events in your love life. Can you verify anything regarding this topic?”

“No comment.”

I give him a look, “No comment?”

He repeats his answer with a nod, “No comment.”

I whisper, “Well, that's unfortunate. I'm sure the damsels of New Orleans are dying to know about your status.” I joke. He laughs at my reply to him. “If you don't want to talk about your personal life, let's move on to your propositions for the town’s well-being.”

The interview continues to improve in terms of fluidity. I stare down at my notes and the set of requirements Marcel gave me. Other than the quick change of interviewee, it is nearly complete. Now, to end this. “Thank you for doing this, Mr. Mikaelson. I had a lovely time,” I bluff. “Do you mind if I take a picture of you? I envisioned it having one alongside the article.”

“Go on.” He says, smirking his signature smile.

I was rolling my eyes as I got up from my seat. Crouching down for a good angle, I snap a shot with my phone. Eerie. He looks ten times more attractive in photos! I sigh in frustration. Why does he have to be so charming and beautiful?

The photo taking is interrupted when a man I don't recognize suddenly barges in. I was in the midst of taking a photo, but Klaus didn't even jump from the sudden interruption. He maintains his stillness and his pose until I finished. I get up from my crouch.

Klaus turns his head to the man near the door. “The painting is here.” Two more men enter the room, holding up the huge artwork. “Where do we put it?”

The art was exotic. It was nothing I've ever seen, but then I wasn't an art guru. I might've assumed it to be Klaus' own work but there was a mark on the lower right corner, which I didn't see in all of Klaus' works. He must've bought this.

“Just have this one delivered to the manor. Leave the blank canvases in my nook,” Klaus said.

The men left. “What was that?”

He clasps his hands together and gently places it on his lips, “Impression, soleil levant. 1872. An original by Monet.” Claude Monet. Wow. He's a legend.

“Claude Monet? I love his works. My personal favorites of his are Water Lilies and Stormy Sea in Étretat. Wow.” I pause in amazement, “I can't believe you bought that. It must've cost you a lot!” I say.

He nods at me with a smile, “I'll earn more when I decide to sell my collections.”

I look at him wide-eyed. “You shouldn't! Those are priceless.” How rich is this man? “What is it for anyway? Are you already giving it up for an auction?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I'm not ready for that kind of commitment just yet.” I roll my eyes at his joke. “I'm holding an art exhibit this Friday. You should come. I'd love Monet's work to be the centerpiece. I think it can attract more tourists to come and witness its beauty.”

“May I?” I ask, holding up the pen and paper as a permission to write it down for my article. He nods at me. “When is it again?”

“On Friday,” he answers.

I scribble it down, “And where?”

“This is the address.” He says, handing me a piece of paper. I take it from him and mentally read the scripture. I remember seeing this street name from when I was memorizing the street names along Klaus' manor. Is this his address? I look up at him, giving him a skeptical look. “It's the address to the manor. I've been renovating for some time now and I plan to rebuild the museum at my land.”

I gape. “I thought all funds for the museum has been transferred to the skyway project? Where did you get the money?” He gives me a humble look, which surprised me even more. “Your money?!” He nods. I exhale in disbelief. Wow. I can't even comprehend everything. “Why?”

He shrugs, “I make a huge investment in art. I am hoping the exhibit can attract tourists. Perhaps attract even more investors. It's a small loss for me. Not to mention the publicity for the city.”

I tried to focus on my scribbling, but I couldn't. His answers touch my heart. “That's — wow. What else have you planned in stored for the city?”

“Well, with the grand opening of the new museum, I will be selling the land of the old one. The foundation of that is horrendous.” He pauses, “I plan to use the money we earn from that and launch the town's first art school. I aim to inspire the new generation.” Wow. Just, wow. That was the only word that entered my mind.

His lips quirk up as the door opened. Elijah comes in, giving me a puzzled look. “I didn't know you were still here. I shall come back later.” Another man comes in. According to my research, this Mikaelson is Finn.

I shake my head, “No. Don't have me keep you from anything. We've finished after all. I should be leaving,” I say to Elijah. I turn to Klaus, “Thank you for this. And your project sounds amazing. I look forward to it.” I give him a genuine smile, “I'll inform you beforehand whether the firm decides to publish this or not. But,” I exhale, “this is good stuff. Thank you.”

Turning my back to him, I give Elijah one last nod.