Chapter 11 - Adrian
Ever since our unplanned family dinner, Athena has been lost in thought. She seems distant. It’s strange, but I think she is feeling lost and lonely. Maybe missing home or her old routine.
I don’t even know if she had many friends before I took her. I don’t know much about her life before I forced my way into it.
Deciding to try and make her feel better, I make my way upstairs to look for her.
Athena is in the library, reading one of my favorite books.
“The Time Machine?” I say with surprise in my voice.
“Well, um, yes, you said he was a good writer,” she says, her cheeks blushing pink.
“He’s one of the best. But I didn’t think you’d be into Sci-Fi. Maybe romance?” I tease.
She narrows her eyes. “Romance? Isn’t that a bit cliché? I don’t think you’re allowed to make generic assumptions about people like that,” she challenges me.
“Ok. Fair enough. What type of books do you usually read?” I ask.
She looks down at HG Wells’ story, The Time Machine. Slowly, she turns a page, and a slight smile touches her lips. “Romance books.”
She answers so curtly that it makes me explode with a loud laugh.
She’s giggling now, too, biting her lower lip and looking proud of herself.
“Cheeky, kitten. Very cheeky,” I muse, savoring the sight of her gorgeous smile.
I sit on the chair opposite her and set my feet on the coffee table.
“Did you have any plans tonight?” I ask with one corner of my lips curved upward.
She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, I was thinking about popping over to Paris for dinner. No, I don’t have plans.
What plans would I possibly have?” she huffs in annoyance. “I planned to read,” she shrugs.
“Well, it’s a bit late to leave for Paris now. We can do that tomorrow, maybe, but I could take you to a French restaurant?” I grin.
She looks up at me with surprise. “You want to take me out?” she asks.
“Yes, I’m getting bored with eating at home. I’m sure you are too. Let’s go out?”
“That sounds amazing. When?” she asks, already setting the book down as though she’s ready to rush out the door. I glance at my watch. It’s only four in the afternoon.
“Early dinner?” I chuckle.
“Now?” she says, lighting up.
“Sure,” I nod.
She’s already rushing out of the library before I can say another word. I guess I should go and get ready too.
The restaurant is always booked months in advance, no matter what day or time you want to go. But there are perks to being one of the richest men in the city, and to having as many connections as I do.
I make one call, and they confirm my reservation is ready and waiting for my arrival in a few minutes.
I thank the host and slide the phone back in my pocket, looking up just in time to see Athena walking down the stairs toward me.
Her hair is pinned up in a high bun with loose curls around her face.
She is wearing a long gold dress. The body of the dress is soft silk that flows around her in liquid smoothness. The sleeves and high neck are lace with the lace continuing down her chest in a deep V that reaches her navel.
There is a long slit up one side of the dress, almost reaching her hip, and I find myself wondering if she’s wearing underwear.
“Is this too much?” she asks nervously.
“This is… exquisite,” I murmur at a complete loss for words.
“And this?” she asks, pulling the dress up a little and looking down at her feet.
I burst out laughing when I see her sneakers.
“Those are perfect too,” I reply, unable to stop the laughter. “I think we need to take you shopping for some boots, though. Winter isn’t going anywhere any time soon,” I say thoughtfully.
She picks up the jacket she’s left hanging over the railing of the stairs. I take it from her and help her into it. She turns her back to me, and I brush against the silk of her dress, and my mind screams at me to slide my hand over her waist. But I can’t.
Instead, I lean close to her ear and whisper, “You look like Athena herself. As though the Greek Goddess has somehow found herself standing in my home,” I muse.
Unconsciously, she tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck to me, and I am tempted to run my lips over her warm skin.
But then she moves away and smiles, “Thank you. I do rather love this dress. I’ve never worn something so beautiful.”
“It’s not the dress that is stealing the show, Athena,” I grin, offering her my hand.
***
The restaurant is busy but not uncomfortably crowded. The chef is a well-known Frenchman who has won numerous awards for his culinary skills.
Athena stares at the menu, embarrassed.
“Is everything ok?” I ask when I see her gnawing at her lip with her eyes nervously darting over the options.
“I, um, don’t really know what most of this is,” she whispers as quietly as she can.
I chuckle softly. “Is there any specific food you don’t like to eat?” I ask.
“Not really, but I’ve only ever been to normal restaurants that have burgers, fries, and pizza on the menu,” she keeps her voice low.
“Let me order for you again, you enjoyed the good I chose last time?”
“I did,” she nods with relief as she sets the menu down.
I order us French onion soup and Nicoise salad to start, with garlic bread, creamy butter, and balsamic dipping sauce. For mains, I choose the beef Wellington and escargot, with a sample of his famous ratatouille.
By the time I’m done order her eyes are wide with curiously. “It sounds like you ordered way too much,” she muses.
“I might have, but now you get to taste a lot of flavors of Paris, seeing as I couldn’t get you to Paris on such short notice.”
She grins with a cheeky glimmer in her eyes. “I just don’t think you tried hard enough. Paris is only seven hours ahead of us. Surely you could have made a plan,” she teases me.
“I have to say I like that you have that much confidence in my ability to make things happen,” I grin.
Her face is glowing in the soft candlelight. In the window behind her, the sky is grey but light with the threat of snow.
“You really do look lovely tonight, Athena. You look lovely all the time, but I enjoy seeing you smile like that.”
She flushes pink.
“Um, I enjoyed meeting your family,” she says, trying to change the subject and shift the attention off her.
“They enjoyed meeting you, too. My sisters especially had a lot of nice things to say afterward.”
“They are lovely. They all made me feel really welcome. It must be so amazing to grow up with so many people around you,” she remarks.
“It was. Very much so. And also, we drove each other completely and utterly crazy. Especially seeing as my brothers and I were so close in age. We’d always been fighting about who was really in charge and who got to call the shots.
Of course, Matvei always won. Age triumphs over anything else we tried to argue,” I laugh.
“And the girls, well, I felt sorry for them sometimes. They had six brothers chasing away any potential boyfriends. They could hardly move without us breathing over their shoulders to keep them safe from the world they were trying to explore.”
She giggles. “It actually sounds nice. For so many people to have your back like that.”
“And you? I don’t think you’ve mentioned any brothers or sisters, but maybe there is one living somewhere else?” I ask.
“No. I was an only child,” she shrugs. “I never had anyone to fight with over stealing my clothes or borrowing my things without asking,” she laughs.
“And your mom?”
Instantly, I regret asking the question. Her eyes cloud over with some lost dream. She looks down at her wine and wraps her fingers elegantly around the stem of the tall glass.
“I never knew my mom. She passed away when I was almost two years old. But I was too young to remember her. I have a photo of her, and sometimes I stare at it and pretend I know her. What her favorite color is or what music she would listen to on a Sunday morning while she made pancakes in the kitchen… or whatever it is that moms do. I guess I just liked to dream. But I didn’t have a reference point.
I had no idea, still don’t, what it’s like to have a mother. ”
My heart sinks for her. How cruel is a world that takes a mother away from her child?
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Athena. I wish things had been different for you,” I say.
“I had my dad,” she shrugs. Then she laughs bitterly. “That didn’t turn out that great, did it?” she sighs. She lifts her eyes to steal a nervous glance at my expression. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be a drag on the conversation,” she says quickly.
I reach across the table and place my hand over hers.
“No, I want you to tell me about who you are. You don’t have to worry about talking through the things on your mind.
I can only imagine that what you’re going through with regards to your father is something very heavy to deal with alone. I’m here for you—if you want to talk.”
She bites her lip.
“I have been thinking about it a lot, especially after seeing how happy your whole family was together. I never had that. But my dad always seemed like a good father to me. I never thought of him as a bad person. And now… well, now my whole perspective has changed, and I’m questioning everything.
I keep wondering if all along I could see it, but I didn’t understand it. ”
I shake my head. “Kitten, a man can be a good father and a bad person at the same time. He can love his child and still treat others disrespectfully. Maybe you remember him as being good because he was good to you,” I argue, unsure about my own words, but wanting to give her some kind of comfort.
She laughs bitterly again and sips her wine. “Do you think a good father would use his own daughter as a shield?”
Her bluntness catches me off guard.
“No, I don’t think a good father would do that,” I have to confess.
“And if a child was taken away from a good father…, do you think he would try and find his child?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. I think he would look for his child,” I sigh.