17. Tori
TORI
I’d been back in Springfield for a month.
My dad was out of the hospital now and adjusting to life with a pacemaker.
He had been ordered to take things easy, but it had taken both me and Michelle working around the clock to keep him from overexerting himself.
Finally, his doctor had relented and allowed him to go back to work.
It was a relief for all of us to see him back on his feet and raring to go. The last month had been hard on all of us—getting my father to cut back on his workload and his drinking had been the hardest—but we’d all settled into a new, more reasonable routine.
Now it was time for me to head back to Chicago. To start school. To join Stefan in what would be our new home.
It was strange. Even though Stefan and I had texted occasionally during my father’s convalescence, our relationship felt more harmonious now that we were apart, much like it had been during our engagement.
He was warm toward me, caring, solicitous about my father’s health.
But all along, I wondered what would happen when we were together in person again.
I couldn’t let go of the memory of him watching me touch myself in the shower and that searing kiss we’d shared in Budapest. Would things be different now?
I was eager to find out, but nervous to see him again.
I hoped he’d be the kind, caring Stefan who had held me during the flight back to the States, whispering calming words into my ear.
But I knew he could just as easily revert back into the controlling workaholic who had made me stay in our hotel room, who sent me out with a babysitter during our honeymoon.
I knew I’d be distracted by school, and he’d be focused on work, but what would our marriage look like once we were in the same city again? Once we were living together? Would we even share a bedroom? Or would it be like living with a stranger? Someone who at times seemed hell bent on ignoring me?
I was eager to head to Chicago, though. Not just to see how things would change—or not change—in regard to my marriage, but because I would finally be starting school.
It was the whole reason I had entered into this arrangement in the first place, and I was more than eager to meet my professors and fellow students.
It would also be nice to get out of my father’s house. After all, that was the other main reason I’d agreed to this marriage—to gain my independence. After a month of essentially waiting on him hand and foot, I was ready to focus on myself, on my marriage and my education.
“Are you ready?” Michelle stood in the doorway of my bedroom as I finished packing the last of my stuff.
“I think so,” I said, looking around my mostly empty room.
The majority of my belongings had been shipped to Stefan’s place in Chicago after the wedding. If everything had gone according to schedule, we would have returned there after the honeymoon, but my father’s illness had thrown a wrench into all those plans.
“How are you getting there?” Michelle asked as we headed down the hallway. “Should I arrange something with your father’s driver? Three hours is a long time to be in a taxi.”
“Stefan is sending a private car,” I told her. “It should be here any minute.
He had texted me that morning to tell me when to be ready, but beyond the logistics, that was it.
The formality stung. I had almost convinced myself that once we returned from our trip, he’d drop the icy exterior and turn back into the man I’d met at my birthday party.
Carefree, good-humored, and genuinely interested in me.
But maybe that man had been a lie all along.
Before heading downstairs, though, I went to say goodbye to my father.
It was still strange, getting used to his tired, more fragile appearance.
He looked a thousand times better than he had when I first arrived at the hospital, when he was pale and drawn in the stark white bed, but it was hard to reconcile this man in recovery with the fighter I’d always known.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him, approaching the bed where he was working on a lap desk strewn with papers, a tablet in one hand and a pen in the other.
He scowled, and I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at him. I knew he hated the pacemaker—he said it made him feel old and infirm—but he had always acted like such a baby whenever he was sick.
Michelle had taken the brunt of his bad moods, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Then again, she had spent the last fifteen years practicing her wifely duties.
While staying with them, I had tried to observe how she acted, how she treated my father.
I took tons of mental notes, knowing that it would all come in handy when I was reunited with Stefan.
“Leaving for Chicago?” he asked, the scowl still fixed to his face.
“Yes.” I held up my bag. “The car should be here soon.”
A horn blared from outside. Perfect timing.
Michelle smoothed the blankets around my father, who looked both grateful and annoyed at the attention.
“I’ll let you know when I arrive,” I told them.
My father just grunted, while Michelle came over and gave me a tight hug.
“We’ll see you soon. And remember what I said,” she added in a low voice.
I nodded. She had been baffled upon learning that Stefan and I still hadn’t consummated the marriage, and she’d spent the duration of the trip sneaking up on me and pulling me aside to give me hints on all the various ways I could seduce my husband.
It was equally informative and deeply embarrassing.
“Don’t focus too much on school,” my father said from his bed. “Men don’t want wives who care more about their education than their marriage.”
“Don’t be so old-fashioned, Daddy. Stefan supports my academic pursuits.” I was bluffing, of course. I knew he was happy to pay for my schooling, but I had no idea what bearing that had on our relationship. Or if we were even going to have a proper relationship going forward.
I leaned over, gave my father a kiss on the cheek, and headed out to meet my car.
We arrived in Chicago hours later, pulling up to an extremely nice, extremely expensive building. It wasn’t until the driver helped me out of the car that I realized I had never seen Stefan’s place. I had no idea what to expect.
The driver took my bags and escorted me into the building.
At least he knew where we were going. I couldn’t have said which condo was his.
I didn’t even know if this was the same place he had lived in before we got married or if it was a completely new place, or maybe even a wedding gift from his father.
When we knocked on the door, a friendly-faced older woman opened it.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Zoric. I’m Gretna. Your personal chef.
Please, come in.” Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, a few loose strands framing her ruddy cheeks, and she had deep-set eyes that seemed to twinkle in amusement as she took in the way my jaw dropped at the sight of the elaborate foyer beyond her, all black marble and dark blue walls with gold accents.
“Personal chef?” I echoed, feeling like Little Orphan Annie.
She nodded, motioning me inside again.
“My god. I—I’m so glad to meet you. Please, call me Tori.” I stepped into the condo, and Gretna took my bags from the driver and sent him on his way with a tip. The first thing I registered, beyond the echo of my steps on the marble floor, was how good the place smelled.
“Dinner will be ready at seven,” Gretna said when I commented on the heavenly aroma. “Mr. Zoric will join us then. Would you like a tour?”
I hid my disappointment that Stefan wasn’t there, mainly because I should have expected it. No doubt he was working. He was always working. Obviously it was necessary in order to maintain a residence, and a lifestyle, like Stefan’s.
Gretna took me around the spacious condo.
It was richly decorated but still masculine in its dark, soothing tones, and I couldn’t help noticing that it was also extremely well-kept.
The place was spotless, with gleaming, polished furniture, leather couches, and starkly dramatic artwork on the walls.
It looked like the world’s most expensive bachelor pad.
Clearly this had been Stefan’s place before we got married and he hadn’t changed a thing.
I didn’t mind. In fact, it gave me a little more insight into who he was. Almost like peering into his brain. A brain that was very masculine and very intense.
“And here is the master bedroom,” Gretna said, pushing open a heavy door.
She followed me in and set my bags on top of the bed.
For a moment, I thought that there might have been a mistake, that she hadn’t been instructed to put me in the guest room—but then I glanced into the huge walk-in closet and found a number of my dresses from Vienna neatly arranged on one side.
Someone had unpacked all of them for me and organized them.
I was sure Stefan wouldn’t have let someone else do that without his explicit instructions.
He was a man who liked to be in control, and I assumed that especially applied in his own home.
That meant we’d be sharing a bedroom. Interesting.
I had half expected, after everything that had happened on our honeymoon, that he would have completely dropped the pretense of a real marriage and given me a room of my own somewhere else in the house.
Not that I was complaining. Sharing a bed with him would make it even easier to implement some of the techniques Michelle had tried to impress upon me.
All I had to do was wait for him to come home.
“I need to go finish up,” Gretna told me, looking at her watch. “The rest of the family will be arriving just after seven. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”
I blinked.
“The rest of the family?”
Gretna nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Stefan’s family—his father and siblings will be joining you for dinner. A very special dinner.”
A special dinner? I glanced at the clock. And less than an hour to prepare?