Chapter 7
Chapter seven
The last of Katarina’s things are set in the foyer as the moving team diligently places boxes in the appropriate rooms. It’s been just over a week since our wedding.
I felt terrible about leaving my new bride immediately after our nuptials, but she understood that I could only move so many meetings on the short notice I was given.
She opted to stay at her family’s compound until I was able to join her at our estate, so this will be her first night in her new home.
I want to make sure she’s comfortable before leaving yet again.
I’m about to go in search of my new wife when I notice a half-open box with items from our wedding spilling out. Lying on top of the pile of assorted s is a photo album, surprisingly already filled with photographs from the day.
I flip through the book, each picture a memory frozen in time, bringing me back to the day of our union.
Katarina walks down the aisle gracefully in a pure white dress that probably weighs as much as she does. With every step toward me, her beauty becomes more evident. I’m completely under her spell when she puts her tiny hand in mine and lets me lead her to the altar.
“I do,” she says, and I slide the platinum band on her trembling finger. The minister continues to talk, but all I hear is the voice in my head that keeps repeating mine.
“You may kiss the bride.” I haven’t kissed a woman in over a decade.
I hate it. My wife looks up at me, and for a moment, I think she’s afraid to kiss me, too.
Until she bites her lower lip. I cup her chin in my hand and use my thumb to pull it from her teeth.
I use my other arm to reach around her slim waist and pull her to me as I bend down to meet her.
Our lips touch tenderly, and she tastes fucking incredible.
I want more. Her mouth opens to let my tongue in when cheers erupt, reminding me of our audience.
I break our kiss and step back, putting some space between us as my heart races.
“You look stunning, Mrs. Sinclair,” I say, as we begin our first dance, reveling in the blush that reddens her cheeks.
There hasn't been time for many words between the two of us with all the fuss of the ceremony. I thought I would dread this as much as I hate being the center of attention, but I’ve found myself looking forward to this dance for the chance to touch her again.
As I hold her close, an instinct takes over me. To protect, to provide, to…love?
All in all, the day went much better than I ever expected. It was a huge to-do, but something about Katarina's presence grounded me. We seem compatible enough, and there’s no denying my attraction to her. It gives me a spark of hope that our marriage could one day grow into one of happiness.
Closing the album, I decide to bring the box into my own room before leaving for the day. I’ve just stored the box deep in the back of my closet when I hear Katarina’s call from her suite on the opposite side of the second floor. Following her voice, I find her in her bedroom.
“Did you need something?” I ask, leaning against the doorway, taking in the sight of the chaos.
Her once spotless room is in disarray, with stacks of boxes scattered across the floor. Some are still closed, while others have clearly been rummaged through. My wife stands among them, looking confused. I can’t help but notice she’s wearing a very thin, very revealing cotton lounge set.
“None of your clothes are in the closet,” she says, gesturing toward the spacious walk-in.
“Of course not. Why would my clothes be in your closet?” I ask, my brows creased in confusion.
“My closet?” I follow her gaze around the room, the gears in her brain clicking as she notes the feminine decor. “Oh. I assumed we would be sharing a room. Especially since this appears to be the primary suite of the estate.”
If I had thought for a minute she would be even slightly comfortable sharing a room with me, I’m not sure I would’ve had the restraint to give her one of her own. Particularly knowing she would be traipsing around here wearing next to nothing.
“I’m practically a stranger to you, so of course, I wouldn't expect you to share a bed.
I learned long ago that I sleep better alone anyway.
My room is down the hall, on the opposite end of the second floor.
But you assumed correctly. This is technically the owner's suite. I hope you like it. I thought about waiting for you to make the design decisions yourself, but I wanted you to be somewhat comfortable upon arriving. I was able to speak with your cousin for inspiration, but please feel free to change anything you want.”
I think I see a moment of sadness flit across her face, and the idea to welcome her into my bed strikes me like lightning, but she’s back to herself before I can act on my intrusive thoughts.
“No, it's perfect, thank you. I’ll be taking a break soon, from this,” she says, motioning to the mounds of clothes piled on the bed.
The way her breasts bounce as she moves makes it almost impossible to think straight.
“I was wondering if you would like to take a walk or give me a tour of the estate?” I would love to show her around.
If I’m being honest, I would prefer to lock us both in this room, consummating our marriage for the foreseeable future.
A glance down at my watch confirms I won't be doing either. Instead, I’ll be leaving shortly to hop on the jet for a quick afternoon in New York to meet with an investment board.
“I’m afraid I have to leave soon, but I’m sure Mrs. Potts would be thrilled to show you around. ”
“Excuse me?” The unexpected sass in her voice grabs my attention from the rundown of my day going through my mind.
Looking up, I see that I’ve upset her in some way. I go back through what I might have said to cause her sudden change in attitude. “I assure you, Potts knows more about this place than I do. She would be a much better guide…”
“No, not that. You’re leaving? Again? I thought the whole point of my waiting to move in was so that you would be home and that we would be here together.”
I release a sigh, becoming irritated as well. “I don’t have any overnight obligations for the foreseeable future, but I had to rearrange a number of things to accommodate our wedding.”
“And what am I supposed to do while you're gone every day?” she asks, tossing down the garments she was holding dramatically before crossing her arms. The motion accentuates her cleavage, and I have to will my attention to remain on her beautiful face.
“I don’t know, whatever you want!” I pause, lifting a hand in the direction of the backyard.
“The pool’s heated, or you can use the indoor pool.
Construction on the fencing pistes is finished.
There’s a library, a theater. I assure you, I’ve added any creature comforts you left behind in your old home. ”
“I didn’t realize I was leaving one gilded cage just to be trapped in another.”
“For Christ’s sake, you aren’t trapped here,” I say, rubbing my temples in an attempt to prevent the headache I fear will be in full force any minute now. “You have a driver, you’ve been added to all my accounts, go! Go shopping, get a massage, get some brunch.”
“With who? You’re the only person I even slightly know, Henry.”
I look down at the petite woman fuming in front of me. If this weren’t such a tedious conversation, her anger would almost be adorable. “Katarina, I’m a very busy man. As much as I would love to putz around with you all day, I have an empire to run.”
“I didn’t expect you to negate your responsibilities, Mr. Sinclair. I just wanted to get to know my husband. I was under the impression that you might share my interest in getting to know each other, but clearly, I miscalculated your intentions. My apologies, sir.”
This is one of the reasons I’ve never committed myself to a relationship, much less marriage. My fluid schedule remains packed, so I enjoy having full autonomy over any remaining free time. Allowing someone in means giving up control of my perfectly sculpted routine.
A glance at the platinum band around my ring finger reminds me that I do, in fact, have a partner.
She should be my first and foremost priority as far as responsibilities are concerned.
And whether it be pure obligation, or perhaps a desire of my own to spend more time together, I won’t allow my vibrant wife to grow bitter and lonely because I can’t find time for her.
At some point in this disagreement, we’ve managed to close the space between us.
Now within my reach, I gently place a hand on her shoulder in hopes of calming the tension around us.
“I’m sorry, darling, I know my absence isn’t ideal.
My next week or so is packed, but after that, I should be around more often.
We can at least start with having dinner together when things calm down. ”
She places her hand atop mine and smiles sweetly, accepting my olive branch. Any annoyance in her eyes dissipates as she gazes up at me. “I would love that. Thank you.”
My free arm wraps around her back, and I begin pulling her toward me when the shrill sound of Linda’s voice pierces the air.
“Henry? There you are! I couldn’t find you anywhere!
Mrs. Potts said you were in your room, but when I checked, you weren’t there.
Obviously. What are you…oh! You must be Ms. Taranova. I’m Linda, Henry’s work wife.”
I feel Katarina tense, but she holds her hand out to greet Linda nonetheless. She opens her mouth to introduce herself, but I interject, beating her to the punch. “Linda, this is Mrs. Katarina Sinclair. And the only woman to claim the title of my wife. In any capacity.”
We’ve shifted so that I’m standing behind Katarina, my hands resting on her shoulder. Her body relaxes beneath my hold as she beams up at me, and I give her a wink before Linda responds.
“Oh, you know I was only kidding. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Katarina,” she says before turning to me. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’ll meet you in the car in a minute,” I manage to growl out, annoyed at her sudden aggression toward my wife. She certainly has her faults, but professionalism has never been one of them.
As my assistant skips away, heels clicking as she makes her way down the hardwood stairs, I realize I’ve had a death grip on Katarina’s shoulders. She turns to face me as soon as I release her. “You really have to go?”
“I do. I’ll be back tonight, but it’ll be late.
” Hurt flashes across her eyes, causing an unfamiliar pit in my stomach.
Placing my finger and thumb lightly on her chin, I tilt her head to look at me.
“Let me get through this next week, and I promise to keep my schedule as light as possible for a while.”
She nods in agreement, but I can tell she’s still upset. Taking her hand in mine, I kiss her knuckles softly. “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Her pretty smile makes its appearance once again. “Goodbye, Henry.”
Walking away from Katarina, I’m hit with dread for the packed week ahead of me.
I’ve never minded the rigorous schedule and extensive travel included in running the Sinclair empire.
Still, I’m suddenly craving a simpler existence—one where I’m home every day at a reasonable time to have dinner with my beautiful wife.
And perhaps when I must travel, I can just bring her with me.
I’m sure she would enjoy seeing the world after being confined to the Taranov compound all her life.
As I make my way to the car that will be taking us to the private airport, I see Linda propped against the back door with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.
“It’s about time,” she says, as we both get into opposite sides of the back seat.
Like a switch, her attitude is gone, and there’s a plastered smile on her face.
“Katarina sure is a pretty little thing, isn’t she?
I was a little confused why you would so easily agree to marry such a young girl, but now I understand why you had such minimal objection to this contract.
It’s probably a good thing that you have separate rooms. I mean, people are already going to talk, considering you’re twice her age.
Just be careful, you don’t want anyone to think you’re grooming her. ”
“That’s enough,” I growl, interrupting her rambling as I fasten my seat belt.
She breathes out a quiet “sorry,” and I sigh, realizing how harsh my tone was.
“Linda, you’ve handled the contracts for every submissive relationship I’ve had since you’ve been my assistant. When have you ever known me to be concerned with what others thought of my proclivities?”
“Just be careful, Henry. This is different,” she says, turning to look out her window.
Humming my agreement, I look out my own window at the estate growing smaller as we drive away.
Katerina is different, indeed.