16. Tori
TORI
We pulled up in front of the hotel, but I just sat there, paralyzed. I barely remembered leaving the restaurant. The whole thing was a blur.
“Tori?”
I glanced up at Oksana. “I don’t know what to do.”
She gently unbuckled my seatbelt for me and helped me out of the car. I was only vaguely aware of her as we walked across the lobby and into the elevator.
Stefan’s words still echoed in my ear. Your father…he’s had a heart attack.
The words sounded so malevolent. And Stefan hadn’t had any further information to give me yet. How bad was it? Was my dad dying right now?
He wasn’t a young man, but he’d always been good about his health. He exercised, he ate mostly healthy meals (when he wasn’t working through his lunches), and besides the high levels of stress inherent to his job, he took care of himself. A heart attack just…seemed impossible.
The door to our suite was open when we reached it. Hotel staff were moving around quickly, carrying things and speaking quietly to each other in rapid Hungarian. When I stepped inside, everyone stopped for a moment, their expressions frozen in sympathy.
I walked by them, my entire body numb.
Stefan was directing the staff but he, too, paused when he saw me. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t the gentleness in his eyes.
“Did they call again?” I asked. “Tell me what’s going on. Is he—?”
“He’s alive. He’s still unstable, but they think he’s going to be okay. They’re keeping him in the hospital for monitoring over the next few days, just until he stabilizes.”
All the air went out of my lungs. I sank onto the couch with relief, my legs gone to jelly. He was alive. He was going to be okay. I could have used a stiff drink, but it was obvious with the frenzy of activity in the room that Stefan was getting my things packed and ready to go.
“When am I flying back to Chicago?” I asked, hoping it was as soon as possible.
“We’re scheduled to take off in an hour,” he said.
“We?”
He looked at me, his expression softening just a little.
“I’m not letting you go through this alone,” he said. “We’ll leave for the airport as soon as this is done.” He gestured at the packing going on around us.
I was shocked. The last thing I had expected was for Stefan to cut his business trip short to fly back to Illinois with me. This was a marriage in name only, after all.
“Thank you,” I managed. I was still numb.
It wasn’t until we were in the elevator that I realized Oksana was gone. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye.
Even though I didn’t completely trust her and I was still unsure about the nature of her relationship with Stefan, she had been kind to me.
The thought of flying back to the United States with my husband—who was probably going to be working on his phone or laptop the whole time as I fretted about my father—was nearly unbearable.
I only felt worse when we arrived at the airport and I discovered that we weren’t the only people on the private jet this time: Our return flight was full of KZ models.
If I could have parachuted out of the hatch, I would have.
With all the drinking, loud music, and high spirits, it was obvious that the models thought of the jet as more of their own personal party bus than a method of conveyance.
Everyone was having a good time except for me.
What a perfect ending to the honeymoon from hell.
I sat there, overwhelmed with worry for my father and, thanks to the women currently whooping it up, anger toward Stefan.
To think, I had been grateful that he had dropped everything to come home with me.
It seemed like he was just using the journey as an excuse to wine and dine his agency’s most beautiful models as we headed back to the States.
It would have been better if he’d just stayed in Budapest and let me come home on my own. I would have gladly taken flying coach, in a middle seat, right by the bathroom, over watching a bunch of gorgeous women drink champagne and flirt with my husband.
In fact, I’d never seen Stefan so animated and charismatic—except for the first time I met him.
When he had turned on the charm in order to get me to agree to the arranged marriage.
I should have known it was a ruse. Nobody is that dreamy in real life.
As he teased and joked with the models, I could tell they were eating it up.
No wonder someone like Oksana was so enamored with him.
It was hard not to be when he was like this.
Even when he was being an asshole, I still found him charming and irresistible.
Like now, for example. I had a hard time looking away as he smiled and refilled champagne glasses. The whole thing was surreal.
My chest felt tight. I didn’t even bother to excuse myself. I unbuckled my seatbelt and headed to the back of the plane, where there was a private bedroom. Thankfully it was empty.
Curling up on the bed, I closed my eyes and let out a sob.
The weight of everything I’d been through that day was crashing down around me as I thought about my father, weak and scared in his hospital bed, and Michelle, who was probably at his side, and how much I wanted to be there with them right now.
This flight couldn’t go fast enough.
Just as I thought I had finally run out of tears, I heard the door open. Immediately, I rolled onto my side and raised my hands to cover my face. Whoever had stumbled into the bedroom didn’t need to know I was back here, crying by myself.
I waited for them to leave, but when I heard the door close, it was followed by the sound of footsteps coming toward the bed. And then I smelled Stefan’s familiar cologne.
I didn’t understand what he was doing until the bed shifted under his weight. I felt him lie down behind me, his arms coming around to spoon me. He was warm and strong, his body strong and reassuring as it pressed up against mine.
Unable to help myself, I let out another shuddering sob. It felt so good to be held, and when I turned in Stefan’s arms, he looked into my eyes and gently pulled the hair out of my face.
“It will be okay,” he said. “We’ll be there soon.”
As I let the tears flow, he stroked my hair and my back, his voice soft and gentle, assuring me that everything was going to be fine.
“Your father is a strong man,” he said. “He will recover.”
I clutched his shirt, not caring that I might be wrinkling it. Stefan didn’t seem to care either, gathering me tighter against his chest as he soothed me. For the first time since we had gotten married, I felt cared for. I felt supported. I felt seen.
I cried until I didn’t have any more tears left, Stefan holding me the entire time. As I drifted off to sleep in his arms, completely drained but feeling somehow lighter, I wondered if my heartless husband was really as heartless as he seemed.