Chapter 11 - Ivan
Despite my efforts to stay focused, my attention seemed to be in two places at once: In the squeaky-clean halls of a local distillery, as well as in my living room every time I glanced down at my phone to see where Daria was and what she was doing.
I wanted to give the owner my complete focus since the quality of the product we were hoping to produce was critical to whether we would strike a deal or not, but it felt like a tall order at that moment.
We went from room to room, looking over the facility to make sure it was up to snuff before we were brought to a private patio they had outback that overlooked the hills. The owner chatted us through several samples of tequila, whiskey, and vodka, among others, while they were brought out by his staff.
Given how enthusiastic he was about their products, it was evident he wanted to strike a deal more than anything. The samples were satisfactory, but they weren't the only distillery I planned to tour. Which meant he was going to have to work for that deal.
In between samples, I'd glance down at my phone, making sure Daria wasn't making moves to try anything she shouldn't.
Despite how passionate I was about the project, my heart just wasn't in it at the moment. In fact, Nikolai was a lot more receptive to the owner and his samples, while my responses were lackluster at best, and I hardly allowed my expression to reveal my thoughts.
When the owner gave us a moment, I felt Nikolai's eyes on me while I glanced down again.
"For someone who was excited about this, you seem uninterested," he said with a hint of amusement. "The guy is salivating so much to work with us. You could negotiate strongly in our favor...but I have the feeling you heard about half of the things he said."
He was right, but I didn't want to let him in on the truth of it.
As much as I wanted to fully commit myself to the tour and potential deal, I couldn't stop myself from checking the cameras around the house. If Daria was to pull a fast one on me, then I wanted to know as soon as possible so I could put her back in her place again.
Of course, the place was guarded and locked down, leaving very few opportunities for her to slip away. But for whatever reason, I couldn't shake the idea that she might at least try.
I knew I was being paranoid. She was only one woman against my staff, and she didn't have access to anything that might give her the upper hand. Still, I didn't trust her.
She gave me every reason to believe she was capable of deception, and I'd be damned if she managed to get away from me.
The thought alone was enough to make my blood boil.
She tricked me and my family once before, and I wasn't going to let that happen again.
Nikolai leaned back in his seat with a faint grin, amused by how avoidant I was being. "Your attention is elsewhere, it seems...what's distracting you?"
I huffed to myself, not wanting to get into it with him. Yet, I couldn't outright ignore his curiosity.
"It's nothing, just some dealings on the side that's pulling me away."
He lifted a brow slightly at the claim, seemingly not convinced. Yet, he didn't press too hard. "Is that so? You must be in demand these days."
"Don't act like that's a surprise."
Nikolai chuckled. "I see...at the very least, you should stop and taste the vodka. This might be the only semblance of a break you'll have in that case."
I knew he was only teasing and hoping to get a rise out of me, yet I couldn't help but be a bit cagey about the topic.
I didn't usually hide things from my siblings, but for whatever reason, I didn't want to divulge the whole situation to them all. I felt the need to keep it close while I navigated my secret marriage and carried out my plan to continue tormenting Daria for as long as possible. I'd have to let them in on it eventually, but it was my personal project for the time being.
Plus, it was imperative that I get a grip on my mixed feelings before bringing anyone else into the fold. I was well aware of how much of a temptation she was for me, and despite that, I had to resist her. I had to practice enough restraint to eventually ignore that longing altogether.
She was my wife, but only as a means to remind her every day of what she did and how she would continue to pay for it. To torture her psychologically rather than physically.
I'd be wise to remember that.
I scoffed and shook my head. "Then I guess it's lucky I'm driving while you indulge."
My brother's grin stretched at that while he reached for another one of the samples. "Don't mind if I do."
***
The house was quiet when I got home, and after checking the cameras, I saw that Daria had disappeared into the master bedroom for a nap.
A small, pesky voice in my head told me to go up there and join her—to get close and carry out those longings I had. Especially after how tense I had been during the tour, the thought of finding some kind of release sounded satisfying.
But I couldn't. I had to get a grip.
So I sat at the dining table instead, waiting while I sent Veronica up to get her. Even if I couldn't have her in that way, I could still get a better read on her and get under her skin.
It seemed entertaining, at least.
In the meantime, the chef brought dinner out, placing the various plates on the table. While the fragrant aroma filled the dining room, Daria eventually appeared beneath the threshold.
She stood there hesitantly, getting out of the chef's way while she looked on edge. It seemed she was always suspecting something from me, still questioning my motives.
It was amusing knowing she couldn't get a real read on me despite likely assuming she had me all figured out.
Of course, she had a right to be fearful of me after all the promises I made to torment her. Even if there was still some resistance left in her, she knew better than to doubt me. She was catching on quickly, which alone satisfied part of that need to know my antics were getting to her.
"Come here," I murmured, discreetly taking a complete look at her, noting how soft that sweater made her look. It was distracting, but I silently urged myself to pull it together again.
Daria gave me a questioning stare before taking a few hesitant steps toward me, looking between me and the set table. "What's going on?"
"What does it look like?"
It should've been more than obvious, but in her guarded state, it seemed she needed everything to be crystal clear—no intention left unchecked.
Looking vaguely irritated at my response, her brows pinched together. My approach wasn't helping.
Sighing, I gestured to the table. "Just sit before the food gets cold. We're having dinner together whether you like it or not."
Her gaze narrowed, but when she realized I was serious, Daria relaxed by a hair before carefully approaching the table.
It was like she was afraid I had done something, or she was waiting for the other shoe to drop while eventually sitting across from me.
I couldn't blame her for being so skittish. It was a direct byproduct of how I had been treating her and how I was doing everything in my power to keep her on her toes.
Hell, if I were her, I certainly wouldn't trust me either.
But regardless of my goal to make her suffer slowly but surely, she was still legally my wife, and we'd be sharing the place for the foreseeable future. Because of that, I'd rather know more about the woman living in my house. It would give me an advantage of sorts...plus, I hoped being more genuine would make it feel less like I was sharing a bed with a stranger.
As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was curious about her. The real Daria.
Not Zoey, the woman I once had my sights set on. Even if a part of me almost mourned what had been and could've been, I knew it was pointless to stay hung up on that persona she sold to me.
Even if my motives were rooted in getting back at her, I needed to better understand the ins and outs of her. Both for the plan and to sate my curiosities.
While Daria sat there, looking at the food in front of us, she looked completely out of place, almost like she didn't know how to do something as simple as having dinner with someone else.
It was certainly a first for us, but to my delight, I couldn't get enough of how she seemed to squirm at the idea of being forced to sit with me.
The longer it went on before I told her to dig in, the more I was satisfied with my decision to arrange that little moment for us.
Whether she knew it or not, she was eating right from the palm of my hand.