Chapter 13
“As much as I’d like to stay here with you,” Lionel says softly, kissing the inside of my wrist, “I’m starving, and there’s a pie and a block of white cheddar waiting for us.”
We are still sitting on the hardwood floor, embracing each other, exactly how I like to be with him, with my head on his shoulder as he caresses my back. We’ve both been unable to break the contact, as if touching each other had become as fundamental to us as breathing. He moved his arms to accommodate my face into the curve of his neck, in that position inhaling his scent I feel as if that’s what dreams are made of. That I can reach my goals and nothing is impossible.
Even though I’ve already dried my eyes, my face is swollen and surely red. Lionel doesn’t seem to mind, so I’ve decided that I’m not going to care either.
“Can we stay here forever?” I ask him, hidden in this little corner, where the world’s problems seem so far away.
“The bubble doesn’t have to pop,” he replies with a light laugh. “We have the entire house to ourselves and all the time in the world. Although you have to study and it would be good for me to work for a while, I have two upcoming projects, and my team is waiting.”
Damn time… the cruelest executioner.
“The clock never stops,” I tell him.
“For nothing or no one,” he adds as he fiddles with the strands of my hair. “Fortunately, at the company, we never skimp on buying good insurance. We won’t have to cover the extra charges for delaying the work.”
I realize that I don’t know anything about his work, absolutely nothing. “Are you the type of boss who wants everyone to depend on him?”
He laughs. “No, I’d go crazy. I started the company years ago with two college mates, they sold their shares soon after and I decided to continue on my own. I’m not very interested in the public part of the business, but I have a good eye for choosing land. I like the excitement of participating in an auction and winning the perfect place for a new development. For the last two years, I’ve been building high-end residential communities like this, and I’ve hired a fairly brilliant group of architects and engineers to take care of the larger residential areas. They travel, supervise, and take care of the hands-on details, while I can dedicate myself to what I really love. Then the realtors do their magic.”
I suppose it’s a luxury that very few can afford, do what they really love, and make money. In a way, I do too, but my business is still taking baby steps. The time will come when I can offer my mother a good life, without worries, and have a little savings for any rainy days. But in the meantime, I have to keep learning and working hard.
“How did you know that architecture was your thing?”
“What is something children who grow up with nothing dream about?”
Having a place to call home , I answer in my mind.
He knows what I’m thinking, of course, he does. “There’s your answer.”
His words make more and more sense. It isn’t so difficult to understand this Lionel when you really pay attention; his need to pause before answering, his silence speaking volumes.
He builds the houses, and the people who buy them take care of turning them into a home.
“Then why is your house still empty?”
“Because it’s just a house, Stella, and I was here alone,” he replies as if it was obvious. “But now that you are here, that will change.”
“Lionel,” I rebuke him, patting his leg.
“I moved here in a rush, without thinking things through. I was supposed to sell this one and move to another property, but time kept passing by and I never did.” Then he lowers his voice a lot to finish. “Maybe I was just waiting for you…”
Straight to my heart. This man and his silver tongue…
“Why, Mr. Kral, you’re such a romantic.”
I lift my head to look directly into those brown eyes I love so much. And then to that dimple on his chin that looks like an arrow pointing at those lips.
His hand goes up my shoulders, following my neck, until it lands on my chin.
“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”
Without responding, I gently caress his face with the tips of my fingers, memorizing each of his features with my fingertips. His forehead, his beautiful brown eyes, flanked by those long lashes, his elegant straight nose, and his mouth… that sweet temptation that I’m dying to kiss again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, his lips a short distance from mine—mixed temptation and torture.
“How?” I ask, moistening my lips with the tip of my tongue.
“When you and I are finally together, I’m going to give you more than a quick fuck on the floor,” he tells me and a flame inside me lights up. “I’m going to give you everything you want, and then some.”
I’m already regretting telling him I want to go slow.
“And in the meantime…” His lips finally touch mine again.
The flame grows bigger, threatening to burn down the house around us. I can’t say that I don’t know the man in front of me, because at this moment, letting myself be carried away by passion, I don’t even recognize myself.
A need that I had never felt before consumes me. I want to smell him, touch him, and taste him, all at the same time. So overwhelming, it’s so new and at the same time as comforting as being back home, all because he somehow makes me feel safe.
“God, I love how you smell,” he says, his mouth running down my neck, toward the edge of the shirt I’m wearing.
“Lionel…” I tell him and he stops.
“My head knows it,” he admits. “But that doesn’t mean that my body understands it.”
After a couple more kisses, he gets up and extends his right hand to help me do the same.
“I need to call my mother,” I say, abruptly changing the subject, putting distance between us.
“And I’m going to warm up the pie again.”
Before leaving the room, he puts his phone in my hands. A new one, of course, because he lost the old one the day he was attacked. I would have taken the opportunity to go through his phone, but two things come to mind. The first, as I said before, the phone is new, I won’t find more than calls from his mother and work. The other, he’s offering me privacy, I should have the same courtesy.
“You think you can get used to that life?” my mother asks after I’ve told her everything that has happened since we left the hospital. “Lionel is a important man, and with that comes many ties. Do you think you’re ready for that?”
I think about it for a moment and decide to answer her truthfully.
“We’re taking things slowly,” I explain. “We have a lot to work out before we take on those commitments . And Lionel isn’t like those millionaires in the movies, Mom, he’s quiet and likes to be at home. Deep down I think we have a lot in common.” Saying that, I feel a little silly, but she’s my mother, she isn’t going to judge me for that.
The truth is that we still have a lot to discover.
“He’s your husband, and your place is next to him.” I know how she thinks. My mother doesn’t believe in the word divorce, for her it’s an abomination. “But I fear you will lose yourself and never be able to find your way back.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I tell her. I don’t know how I would survive another disappointment, though.
???
“Hadley, my assistant, is going to bring me some paperwork I need to review,” Lionel tells me as he takes a good bite out of his pie and licks some crumbs off his lips. How I want to be the one to do that for him. Somehow, I manage to contain myself, focusing on what I have on the plate in front of me.
The truth is that it is very good, the pie, I mean—and with cheese—it makes a delicious combination.
I had never seen white cheddar cheese, for me it was always yellowish, but every day you can experience something new.
“I’ve asked her to get you a phone and a computer too, I think you need both.”
Nope, I don’t need any of that. He better get that idea out of his head before we have another fight of epic proportions.
“I don’t need a new phone, just a charger. Nor a computer, I can manage with the notebooks and the phone.”
It doesn’t feel right to start receiving gifts, especially when they’re expensive ones. That would make me feel like I’m selling myself.
“The computer will make it easier for you to study for the test. Remember that you must look things up on the internet, and maybe get an online tutor. Those things can’t be done from a phone, much less using such an archaic model.”
I stare at him, lips tight. We’re back at step one.
“I-I’m not making fun of what you’ve already accomplished with what you have,” he reasons, his gaze fixed on mine, without hesitation. “I’m just trying to help you, to offer you the tools to make your life easier, think about it from a productivity point-of-view.”
“I can accept it,” I begin, and victory shines momentarily in his eyes. “As a loan.”
Fuck , I hear him say under his breath as he looks up at the ceiling.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he questions.
“That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
And there are no more offers, that’s the way it will be. I will not compromise on this, it’s my way or the highway.
“Where did it go that with my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow? What is the use of having a lot of zeros in my bank account when I can’t give my wife a new phone?”
Seriously ?
“You brought this upon yourself…”
“Punishment?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“A suspension of activities,” I correct him. “And about the goods, well, I wouldn’t have married you without signing a prenup, had I known about your money. I’ve told you to call your lawyer, I’m sure you have one on your payroll.”
I can’t name the expression that crosses his face, maybe it’s one, perhaps it’s the mixture of several.
“So speaking of activities… How about baseball? What base will you allow me to get to?”
That silly question and the blatant change of subject makes me smile.
“I’ll tell you when you stop being such a cocky player.”
“You’re cute when you try to hide that it doesn’t affect you as much as it affects me.” Saying this, he kisses me on the nose. “Come with me, I want you to show you where the office is.”
“What happened to your wonderful idea, ‘where’s my wife’ app?”
“It’s in the developing stages, smartass.” He takes me by the hand to guide me down a corridor that I’ve never been to until today.
The irony doesn’t escape me, this path is new for me and I’ll have to trust him as a guide.
???
Lionel’s assistant Hadley is a girl with long black hair and blue eyes, so well dressed that she looks like something out of a magazine.
She comes home like someone who has done it many times before. Smiling, she looks me up and down. Twice, like she hasn’t seen me before.
I feel like I’m taking some kind of test that I didn’t know I had to prepare for.
“So… you have already made yourself at home?” she asks me after an uncomfortable silence.
I’m standing in the kitchen, facing the stove, getting one of my mixes ready, because I’m still trying to find the perfect formula. I’m almost sure that mint, honey, and bergamot are the winning recipe, but until the soaps are ready to go, I can’t take it for granted.
“Hadley,” says a hoarse voice behind her. “Of course she’s settled, it’s her home, after all.”
The girl opens her mouth and for a second doesn’t seem to know what to say, but immediately she composes herself and pastes another smile that does not touch her eyes. Is she interested in my husband or do they have a history? “Of course, Mr. Kral.”
She reaches out with a bag. I want to tell her a few things, but I remind myself of courtesy over jealousy.
“Mrs. Kral, here is your new phone and computer.”
I definitely don’t trust this girl, but this is the game we are going to play. “Thanks, Hadley.”
“Did you bring what I asked for?” Lionel intervenes, cutting the tension that certainly hangs over us.
She pulls out some documents from her briefcase and hands them to Lionel, who drops onto one of the stools in front of the breakfast bar and sifts through them without giving the girl a second glance.
No, there is no interest there, at least not on his part.
“You want me to take the rest to the office, sir ?” Is it hope? Gah, jealousy is bitter on my tongue.
“Put the contracts here on the counter, Hadley. My wife and I are going to have lunch soon.”
Again, some kind of emotion flashes through her eyes.
“My favorite is still roast beef,” I say to Lionel as we eat the sandwiches I’ve made for lunch, accompanied by tomato soup.
“Lamb is so much better, it’s not as stringy and it’s not as boring as chicken.”
I roll my eyes, these silly discussions make me smile. And they also mark many others that Lionel intends to win. Like the fact that the computer is here and so is the phone.
“It’s the same number,” he tells me as soon as he takes the gadget out of its box, while I try to study a little more. I must hire an online tutor, doing it by myself is turning out to be more difficult than I thought.
“I have to work for a while,” he informs me. “Do you think you can manage on your own for a few more hours?”
I roll my eyes again, I’m not a needy girl who craves his attention twenty-four hours a day, and, although I don’t want to admit it, the computer will help me organize my inventory and manage my orders.
“Don’t blame me if you come back to find the house on fire,” I reply playfully.
Lionel kisses me on the lips and then on my wrist before returning to his cave, leaving me in the kitchen, listening in silence to the echo of my heartbeat.
After downloading my files from the cloud to the phone, my contacts and all those things, I stand looking at everything I’ve been saving, wondering what I should delete. Starting with a few photos, those are memories that I prefer not to have, and as Lionel said, we are writing a new story. One of the images is especially painful. After one of our fights, Lionel left the house furious. He returned later that night with a bouquet from the supermarket. I was on the sofa trying to distract myself with a movie when he entered the house asking for forgiveness. He gave me the flowers and insisted that the reconciliation be properly recorded. And obviously posted on Instagram, too.
I keep checking all my files when a little sound notifies me that I’ve got a new message.
Sender: Lionel Kral. A lump forms in my throat when I see the time the message was sent, around the time we were in the closet. Not to mention that the words that appear there take my breath away.
No, not in a good way.
You should remember you are mine.
Those words make my mind travel to Carrollton, more than that, to one of our weekends at home.
Fuck.