32. An Answer
An Answer
Electra
B astian's words were echoing in my mind in an endless loop, taking away my sanity. Every cheerful memory and happy thought safely stored in my mind intensified the pain in my chest and the dread of losing him forever.
However, my brain was also preoccupied with different questions and scenarios that didn't make sense.
The biggest issue for me was: why the letter?
Why would Bastian ask me to marry him if he knew we had broken up?
It was too contradictory for him. He was very logical, and even when love sometimes forced people to do illogical things, he wasn't just some regular man.
This had to have a more significant meaning.
And there was only one person who could answer my questions and calm down my crazy brain from imagining unbelievable schemes. So, with the letter neatly folded in my black purse, I entered the building where the private practice of Andreas Thorn had its head office.
I took a deep breath, finding a strange comfort in my black, high-heeled stilettos clicking on the shiny caramel-colored floor.
A friendly middle-aged receptionist smiled politely and showed me the way to the elevators.
The firm was located on the top four levels, and, of course, the king's office was on the highest floor.
With my stomach twisting, I adjusted the collar on my white blouse and checked the pencil skirt. In this outfit, I felt the best. It boosted my confidence, and the tremble in my body lessened.
I was nervous because of the conversation ahead of me, but I needed answers.
Andreas was one of the most unpleasant and arrogant people I ever met.
I only consoled myself by saying that he was kind of nice to me since I ended up in the hospital.
He was oddly protective of me, and it almost looked like he cared.
However, his natural behavior couldn't be pushed back for a long time, and I expected rude responses from him.
One last glance in the mirror in the elevator assured me I looked the best I could, so I walked into the spacious hall, my mouth falling to the floor instantly. I hadn’t expected such a luxurious environment for a law firm.
From where I stood, I saw three grand offices with glass doors and windows, so the furniture and people inside could be seen.
Everywhere I looked, there were expensive paintings and sculptures.
One wall was turned into an aquarium with extraordinary fish, and next to it was a massive mirror overgrown with plants.
It was terrific, and I stared at the scene in awe.
Shaking my head, still slightly shocked, I strolled past the offices and behind the corner.
In the middle of another hall was an island where three young women, all dressed in the same royal blue dress, were chatting and smiling.
None of them noticed me, so I quickly looked around to locate the biggest office or Andreas personally.
And I found him, but not in the place I hoped for.
I noticed him in the conference room with another twelve people through the glass wall, gesturing and explaining something.
I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him.
I couldn't stop my brain from confusing him with his older brother.
The burgundy color of his button-up shirt wasn't something Bastian had in his closet, but it suited him perfectly.
It underlined his dark aura, and in combination with the stern glare of his icy-blue eyes, he looked dangerous and extremely attractive.
Initially, it didn't get to me, but I quickly realized the three women weren't just chatting; they were admiring him. He had the same effect on them as every man in the Thorn family had on women. The entire female generation was powerless against their sinful charm.
Almost rolling my eyes at the giggling girls, I turned around to find Andreas’ office to wait for him there when one of his fans finally comprehended I shouldn't be just wandering around.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her grass-green eyes focused on me. She had a beautiful heart-shaped face framed by curly dark hair, a thin nose, and plump lips, but she used too much makeup, and her fake eyelashes looked so heavy that I was surprised she could keep her eyes open.
"I'm here to see Mr. Thorn," I replied, the words making my heart bleed. There was only one Mr. Thorn in my world.
"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked, typing on the computer while the other two stopped watching Andreas and also turned to me.
"No, but he will meet me," I answered confidently, lifting an eyebrow when she flashed me a fake smile.
"Mr. Thorn doesn't meet people because they want to.
He chooses his clients." Her arrogant, lecturing tone immediately raised my blood pressure.
I was about to retort something to her statement when one of her colleagues, the blonde one with piercing brown eyes and chubby cheeks, approached her and showed her a picture on her cellphone.
"I'm sorry, Miss Hernandez. Debra didn't recognize you," she apologized, pushing the brunette to the side and taking her place behind the computer. "Mr. Thorn has a fifteen-minute break after the briefing, so please follow me into his office. You can wait for him there."
A highly inappropriate smug grin settled on my face, and for sure, Debra noticed it, too, but I just couldn't fight the slight satisfaction I felt. Thanks to the popularity of my relationship with Bastian, my life was easier. At least in some ways, while in others, it was tremendously hard.
The blonde receptionist named Lucy left me in the modern, futuristically designed office.
In the middle of the room was a vast L-shaped glass table, which was empty; only the laptop was on the right side of it.
Behind the black leather chair was a bookshelf, covering the entire wall full of law books, folders, and photo frames of two kids with a beautiful red-headed woman I knew was Andreas’ wife.
On the left side of the room, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided a spectacular view of Seattle, were two white leather sofas and two armchairs. The flat TV hanging above a chest of drawers was muted, showing the daily news.
I slowly walked to the couch and placed my bag on it, impressed by the collection of six paintings on the opposite wall, which created a panoramic view of New York. I heard about the artist who made those pieces, but he was too expensive for regular people to afford his work.
Moving leisurely throughout the room and checking every corner, I stopped in front of the photo frames, which sat proudly in perfect order on the bookshelf.
The smiling faces of a six-year-old boy and maybe a ten-year-old girl were like a knife into my pained heart.
It was a possibility I would never have kids with Bastian, and the idea hurt me more than I could’ve ever expected.
Because of my mother, I’d never wanted children.
I was afraid I might do to them what she had done to me.
With Bastian, though, I secretly started to imagine a family.
A little boy with his crystal-blue eyes and frisky smile or a girl with high-class behavior and a hint of arrogance so typical for her father's family.
But this would only be my biggest wish and no more if the situation didn't change.
"Is everything okay, Electra?"
I almost jumped out of my skin when Andreas’ strong voice resonated through the room. I abruptly turned to him, feeling uncomfortable, like I had been caught snooping in his personal space.
"I was just," I started, motioning for the photos, when he raised one of his eyebrows. "Never mind." I gulped, walking towards the couch. "I need to ask about this."
I handed him the letter, which turned my world upside-down last night and waited for some kind of reaction from him. However, I didn't find anything suspicious. He just took the paper from me, frowning.
"Are you sure it' s for me?" he asked doubtfully, blinking in confusion. "I'm nobody's princess."
"Read it, please," I sighed, almost rolling my eyes at him.
Most of the time, his usual responses were a combination of sarcasm and irritation, but I was too tired for his antics.
Sometimes, I didn't understand how Bastian was able to survive his entire life in the company of such an annoying person.
He sat in the armchair, crossing his long legs, reading. But it was only about twenty seconds of silence before he looked at me like he just stuck his nose into a pile of shit.
"It's a love letter," he spat, waving it at me. "For you, from my brother!"
"Yes." I nodded calmly, sitting opposite him. "I need to ask you something about it, but you must read it."
"Are you serious?" He folded the paper and threw it at the table, glaring at me. "First of all, this is my brother's deepest feelings expressed in words." He rose, looking down at me as if I had committed treason. "And second, I don't have time for this nonsense. Have you lost your mind?"
"I need answers." I stood, holding his gaze.
"He loves you! What other answer do you need?" He was confident in his words, and I knew he was right. Bastian loved me; I didn't doubt that. It was just a few little things that didn't match up.
"Why would he write me a letter asking me to marry him if he knew we broke up?" I asked, shrugging. "It doesn't make sense!"
Andreas narrowed his eyes at me, and the scowl on his face deepened. Frowning, he bent down and took the letter from the coffee table, shaking his head.
"I hope I ‘m not about to be suffocated by flattery and love declarations," he mumbled under his breath, plopping down on the couch and earning a snort from me. I was tempted to start another round of arguing with him, but I also needed his insight.
He knew Bastian the best. If, after reading the letter, he said everything was fine, I would be willing to consider signing the marriage certificate. Right now, he was the only person who could soothe my paranoia about the hidden meaning of Bastian's proposal.
"What is the problem here?" Andreas inquired after a few minutes, giving me the letter back. His face was a blank mask without any emotion.
"It seems like I shouldn't find this so early," I replied, hiding the letter in my bag. "Like he wrote it as a precaution if he failed to get me back. But why the marriage?"
"Bastian knew he fucked up," Andreas grimaced, tapping his fingers on his thigh. "He was willing to do everything in his power to get you back, but if, in the meantime, something happened to him, he wanted to be sure you were taken care of."
"As his wife? Even if I left him?" It just didn't make sense in my head. Why would someone make so much effort to ensure the other person's well-being if they were finished?
"You still don't understand, Electra," Andreas sighed theatrically, repositioning himself. "Bast couldn't imagine his life without you by his side. You're acting like he did something shocking, but he only did what he felt was right."
"It's a fake marriage!" I yelled, overreacting, but he still didn't tell me anything useful. He was repeatedly saying the same thing but with different words.
"It's as real as it could be, darling. Don't underestimate me." He looked genuinely offended. "And if he hadn't had an accident, you would never have known about this. You were coming back with him."
"To pack my things and leave," I declared, instantly regretting it. It wasn't the truth, and Andreas saw right through my act.
"Continue to tell yourself that." He stood and moved to the door, opening it for me. "If you have nothing else, I have to prepare for the press conference."
Before I could stop myself, the words flew out of me, putting me in an unenviable position. Yet I could only blame my idiotic mouth for being unable to stay shut.
"I'll do it," I muttered, my voice slightly wavering. "I'll make an official statement for the public."
"Are you sure?" Andreas raised his eyebrows in surprise, which was proof I’d caught him off-guard. He didn't expect me to suggest it. He definitely didn't want to push me into it either, but I couldn't take it back. A part of me wanted to do it like it was my duty to fulfill.
"Yes, I'm sure," was my response, even when I wasn't sure at all. But I couldn't back down if I ever dreamed of becoming Mrs. Thorn. In a situation like this, I had to be strong and do what was necessary. Bastian always cared for me; it was my turn to take care of him.