Chapter 30 Daphne
30 Daphne
It’s 3 a.m. when the taxi drops us off at the cottage. I take the spare key out of a small alcove to the side of the window and open the door. The hallway is dark, cold and uninviting as we enter and an unexpected wave of nostalgia washes over me when Milosh flicks on the lights. I haven’t been here in years.
My father bought this cottage as a Christmas present for my mother when I was six. She kept telling him that we needed a small, cosy getaway, far from all the noise and people because, unlike me and my father, my mother didn’t grow up with money. When she married him, a house full of staff took some getting used to. So my father bought this small two-bed cottage in the middle of the French countryside, with wooden beams lining the ceilings and a fireplace gracing the bedrooms and the living room. My mother loved it and didn’t let anyone use it but us. For three years, we spent every possible holiday here, even a couple of weekends, and my mother had a strict no-work-phone rule so that she and my father were just present in the moment.
‘I’m just gonna do a quick sweep of the house,’ Milosh says, opening the living-room door and dropping our bags in there. I walk into the kitchen, turning the lights on and looking in our cupboards to see what we have. It’s been around five years since my father and I visited so it’s not a shock when I open an empty fridge and empty cupboards, save for a packet of pasta. I reach for it and check the use-by date. Yep. Went off two years ago.
‘The house is clear,’ Milosh states as he walks into the kitchen looking around. ‘I’ll go and get some food in the morning.’
I nod and close all the cupboards again, shivering slightly when I feel a gust of cold air.
‘I lit the fire in the living room and what I assumed was your room, so it should warm up in a bit.’ His eyes are soft when they meet mine. I wrap myself tighter in Milosh’s jacket before making my way upstairs. My bedroom is the first door, so thankfully I don’t have to walk past my parents’, but when I go inside, I’m hit with a pang of longing.
Longing for a different time.
Longing for different circumstances.
The room is decorated the way you’d think an eight-year-old would want. The walls are coated in a sparkly pink paint and the bed is covered with Disney princess pillows. To one side of it sits a bookcase with all my favourite childhood books, and on the other side sits my Barbie collection. The last time I visited I wasn’t able to sleep in here and I slept in my father’s room while he took the sofa, but I can’t think of anything worse than spending the night in my father’s room so I make my way back downstairs.
When I walk into the living room, Milosh is on his haunches flicking through all our old DVDs with a small smile on his face.
‘Find anything you like?’
He looks up at me, holding A Cinderella Story, Another Cinderella Story and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs . ‘I’m guessing all of these movies were picked by you?’
I laugh lightly as I drop to the sofa, a yawn escaping me. ‘You would think, but no. Ratatouille and Cloudy with a Chance were Daddy, and the Cinderella franchise was my mother. But everything else? Yeah, that was all me.’
The cottage is so remote, you can’t get very good wi-fi. When we used to come here we only had a DVD player, some board games and books to work with, so we amassed quite a collection.
Not wanting to talk about the sleeping arrangements, I opt for a light topic. ‘You wanna watch a film?’
‘Sure,’ Milosh responds, standing up to his full height. ‘What movie?’
‘I don’t mind, you choose.’
The fire crackles away in the background as he flicks through the options, finally settling on one. After slipping the disc into the DVD player he comes to sit next to me. Our thighs brush together, sending my own crackle of fire up my leg.
I close my eyes for a moment and bring my hand to my neck, trying to massage the knot out of it, when I hear the familiar overture of Aladdin filling the air.
‘Good choice.’ I glance over at him, but am shocked to find his eyes already on me, or, more accurately, my neck as I try to work away the tension.
‘You want some help?’ Milosh asks, his eyes darkening.
Do I want him massaging my neck?
‘Yes, please.’
Huh. Turns out I do.
‘Turn around.’
I move so that I’m sitting sideways on the sofa and drop my hand, watching the film out of the corner of my eye.
I feel the seat dip as Milosh comes closer and I suck in a breath when he gently pulls my hair to the side. The air is charged with anticipation as tension rakes through my body.
His touch starts out gentle at first but gets firmer when he finds the knot and goes in on it. I let out an involuntary whimper as his warm hands knead my flesh and my breathing drops. Aladdin plays in the background but I can’t hear it anymore. Not over the roaring in my ears.
‘There,’ Milosh says, voice gruff. ‘Does that feel better?’
I turn around to face him, moving my hand back to my neck, testing it out.
‘Much better, thank you.’
He watches my fingers. ‘Good.’
I let my hand drag down the length of my neck, before dropping it in my lap. Milosh tracks the movement intently.
I watch him as his eyes coast back up my body, settling on my parted lips.
I know it’s not the right time to do this but he’s a welcome distraction so I lean over and kiss him.
It’s tentative and unsure at first but as I move my hand to cup his face, drawing him closer, it starts to deepen. His hand finds my waist and squeezes, causing the kiss to pick up some speed.
‘Daphne, we shouldn’t.’ He breathes heavily against my lips, pulling away so he can see me.
‘Then stop looking at me like that.’
A groan erupts from deep in his chest. ‘You know I can’t do that.’
‘Well then, we seem to be at an impasse,’ I whisper, biting down on my bottom lip. ‘But don’t worry, Mr Petrov, I think I know how to fix that.’ My mouth crashes back onto his as his fingers make their way through my hair, tugging gently to move my head into a better position. He breaks the kiss, one hand starting its way down my neck, while the other rests on my lower back.
‘You smell so good,’ he rasps against my throat.
I don’t respond. I’m in a breathless haze, the air heavy and thick around us. He lifts me on top of him, bunching up the dress slightly so I’m more comfortable, and I shed the jacket, letting it drop haphazardly to the floor.
I pull his mouth back onto mine, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip, smiling against his mouth when he lets out a groan.
‘You’re gonna make me go crazy, Daphne Green.’ His voice is warm and his Balkan accent heavy.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach.
I embed my hands in his soft hair, playing with it. ‘That’s the plan, Mr Petrov.’
He chuckles deeply as he brings his mouth back down, lazily stroking his tongue along mine, his hands cupping my jaw.
I pull back, looking him dead in the eye. ‘Stop being so sweet with me, Milosh.’
‘No problem,’ he growls.
All at once he brings one hand up and yanks on my hair, while the other grips my hip. Hard.
He pulls me by the hair to where he wants me and dominates my mouth. At first, I controlled the kiss but now he sets the pace.
His tongue is aggressive and greedy, taking up space in my mouth, while his hand moves from my hair down my spine, past my hip, to my thigh, branding me.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
I need more.
I need him.
‘Milo,’ I whimper. Tracing his strong arms with my hands.
He groans into my ear, his other hand tightening around my hip. ‘Say that again.’
‘What, your name?’
He hums in response. ‘I love when you say it.’
‘Which one?’ I whisper, moving my hands to rest on his chest. ‘Milo, Milosh or Mr Petrov?’
‘All of the above.’
I smile as I bring my mouth to his neck, kissing and nibbling lazily. ‘We should probably stop and get some sleep.’
‘Yeah,’ he agrees.
His hands run down the length of my thighs and my breathing shallows. I buck against him, instinctively, beginning to roll my hips but he stops me, hands firm on my thigh.
‘No, like you said, not now. I want to do this right.’
‘What do you mean?’ I breathe against his neck.
‘Daphne…’ He pauses, moving his neck back and tipping my face to look at his. ‘I wanna make this work. You and me. For real. Long term.’
‘Really?’ I whisper, a smile fighting its way to the surface.
‘Yeah.’ He searches my eyes. ‘Is that something you’d want?’
I roll my eyes. ‘You cannot seriously be asking me that question.’
‘Of course I can. We come from two separate worlds, Daphne, and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to provide for you. Yes, I know we’re young, but I want a future with you so I will do everything in my power to be the man you need me to be.’
‘You would do that? For me?’
‘I’ve come to realize that I would do anything for you, Daphne Green.’ He cups my face and places a tender kiss on my lips. ‘Anything.’