The moon is shining hard and cold against the marbled floor of the living room. Few guests tonight, the two waitresses are sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender. Next to them, Alice is sipping lazily from a champagne glass.
She turns around in her stool and notices a woman. She is wearing a silk white dress, her hand holding onto a champagne glass, her black eyes, the eyes of a rebel, contemptuously glancing around at the other guests. Her slim body, her black hair covering her naked shoulders, she is more than perfection itself, she is more than…
She notices Alice looking at her and she gently nods her head and smiles. For the briefest of moments.
Alice walks closer. Somehow. Without her realizing. She has to.
Some women are nice to stare at. Nice to hold their hand, go on long, long walks with them. They taste real nice when you kiss them.
But not this woman. Oh, no.
Kisses dream of lips like hers.
Alice walks closer.
God, this woman! Even the way she sips from her glass knocks men the fuck out.
She is sex. The way you’d imagine sex to look like. Alice is pretty sure she is wearing a perfume made from the tears of all the men who had her and lost her. If you listen carefully you can almost hear the sound of hearts breaking.
Even if they tried to avoid one another, it wouldn’t work. Somehow, the Universe seems willing to collapse in on itself just to make them meet.
Which is kind of odd, considering…
She’s never felt like this before. Her soul aches to touch her.
Watching her from afar…
Somehow, they’re both seated on the same couch. Talking. Her name is Elena, but everyone keeps calling her the Duchess. Suddenly, Alice remembers.
The mansion. She is the maid.
She didn’t feel like that when she first saw her. Why does she feel like this now?
What is happening?
What is going to happen?
A man walks over to them, takes a seat next to Elena, kisses her on the neck. Platinum blond hair, an almost-not-enough, almost-too-much smile. He is the kind of handsome that doesn’t usually inhabit the realm of men, and for this reason, people – especially women – have always fought hard for his attention; he carries himself with the sort of contempt that advertises it. He could easily break your heart with a stare and mend it with a smile. “Hello, doll,” he says to Alice. “Remember me?”
closer is the story of a man who is so seduced by the desire to get rich that he becomes involved in a world where anything is permitted. His journey to the top is interrupted by the consequences of his past actions. Things become darker, more violent and more sexually disturbing than he could ever have imagined as he tries to break himself free from his past.
Deft, shocking and unforgettable, this gripping tale about risk, consequence and the treacherous balance between the two reveals a world where there’s nothing to separate right from wrong.
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