Chapter Eleven
Emilia’s POV.
“Oh, I don’t mean you have to bring it right now,” I pointed out, laughing.
“It’s no trouble. Ketchup shouldn’t stand in the way of you enjoying your food,” Mina insisted, shaking her head as she rushed towards the door.
Giving up, I sighed as she disappeared out the door.
I sank back into the couch, rolling my low ponytail up as I rested my head against the cool leather.
My mind drifted to the subject that invaded me whenever I had two seconds to myself: Viktor.
Our union seemed to start meaning more since Monday. I felt tantalizing tingles as I looked toward the bed with clear memories of us making love.
I chuckled despite myself when I remembered him telling me just a few days ago that I would soon be ready, and I’d lashed out, telling him I wouldn’t ever be ready.
But it would be a blatant lie if I said he hadn’t been opening things up in me before that long night.
It probably had something to do with our proximity, being in the same room and all.
It became inevitable for me to see how human he was beneath the macho man exterior he wore so perfectly.
It was all out there for me to see: the way he frowned when he got not-so-good news, the way he clenched his teeth whenever he was trying to hold back from saying something, and how he took his time in the bathroom at night but never took long in the morning.
I couldn’t unsee how handsome and manly he looked in and out of his custom-made Armani suits.
However, not even these little observations were sufficient to explain this… tenderness I felt toward him.
His unexpected spurts of kindness and care had to be the major culprit.
The people (namely Karen, the cook back at my parents’ house, and Hans, the doorman at my apartment) who said I was the type that bloomed under kindness, like a flower, were right.
Without a doubt, I still hadn’t gotten over my surprise at his restraint when I explicitly asked him to have sex with me, being his forcefully wedded wife.
It was a clear contrast to the lack of control typical of men like the guy I dated in college.
If his restraint was the first pleasantly shocking moment, his comforting embrace was a close second.
It was the last thing I’d have expected from a man like him.
Even Viola’s celebrated, romantic boyfriend kept repeating comforting words when she lost her sister, when all she wanted was ‘a tight, comforting embrace.’
Who could have thought a man who kidnapped me for my dad’s debts and forced me into marriage would be the one to give me that warm experience?
Well, the embrace turned out to be the tip of the iceberg. I hadn’t the tiniest clue of how far things would progress later that night.
Our first lovemaking was a testament to an unprecedented bliss that would forever remain seared into my memory. It was all care, comfort, and euphoric bliss.
Despite my being sore last night, I knew I wouldn’t have refused him if he had initiated sex. That was how much I had come to…
Okay, that’s enough.
There’ll be plenty of time to think of Viktor.
What’s keeping Mina, by the way?
My answer came swiftly as the door opened.
But it wasn’t Mina who stood in the doorway, balancing a small tray consisting of a plate and a bottle of ketchup on something I couldn’t see from where I sat.
It was Viktor. Looking breathtakingly handsome in a crisp black shirt with rolled-up sleeves and black pants that hung low with a black belt.
I was still in bed when he left earlier in the morning, so I didn’t see much of him except for a close-up view of his face when he leaned over to kiss my forehead in farewell.
“I have a delivery for a Mrs. Emilia Lobanov,” he announced, a smile playing around his lips as he came to the sofa.
“Really?” I remarked as he took a seat beside me and placed the ketchup on the stool where my fish and chips sat. “Emilia Lobanov, hm?”
“I’d have loved Emilia Viktor Lobanov better,” he answered, shrugging. “But, we’ll take it one step before the other. We have time.”
I sat more upright, picking up the ketchup bottle.
“Thanks,” I remarked.
“Don’t mention it. I’m here to eat with you; bringing the ketchup was only circumstantial.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
Is that what it means to feel the heat of someone’s gaze?
I shook out the ketchup over my french fries and dared to look to the side. His gaze didn’t waver like that of someone who had just been caught staring; it was unflinching. But that was not all. There was something warm and tender in those gray eyes.
Swallowing, I asked, “D’you want…”
“I don’t like ketchup,” he cut in, chuckling.
“Of course,” I remarked, placing the long bottle back on the stool. “Explains why it’s not commonplace here.”
He chuckled again as I swiped some ketchup with a french fry and placed it in my mouth.
“What?”
“What?” he deadpanned, bringing his fork to his mouth.
“Really?”
“You’re shy.”
I raised my right eyebrow.
“I think you’ve always been. But since we…”
“Okay, okay,” I cut in, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Okay,” he conceded, a knowing smile on his face. “For now.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
We ate in silence for another minute before he asked, “Why do you live alone? I mean, did.”
“Where did that come from?” I inquired, unable to hold in my surprise at his random question.
“I’m trying to know every facet of my wife,” he answered, eating another forkful of french fries.
There was that heart-softening thing I felt whenever he called my name, again.
His wife.
“Your father surely has a fleet of cars at his disposal; assigning a driver to your daily movement should be the least of his expenses,” he continued.
“I wanted to live alone. You know, out of the house. He was against the idea in the beginning, but he eventually came to terms with it.”
“Then he could have gone for an upscale apartment in the heart of the city. Despite him being my debtor, I know he can afford to buy you a more-than-decent house,” he remarked.
“Besides, I believe the usual thing is for a young lady to want every bit of her father’s fortune.
Acquiring clothes and jewelry and showing it off to the world in tongue-revealing, eye-squinting, uncanny pictures. ”
I was glad there was currently nothing in my mouth as I giggled. Then he joined in, and his deep laughter fired mine up.
“The whole glamor and… I don’t suppose it’s glitch and glamor, is it?” he asked amidst receding giggles.
“Jeez! Glitz and glamor, Viktor!”
I spiraled into another round of laughter. Only when I descended my laughter-induced high did I notice his was now down to a smile. A full smile.
His face was bright with a boyish charm that made him look much younger.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he remarked, his voice just above a whisper.
“I was going to say the same to you,” I confessed, picking one of my fries.
“That I’m beautiful?”
The surprise on his face was both endearing and funny.
“You’re…good-looking,” I admitted, wondering how I was embarrassed when I wasn’t the one being complimented.
“It’s nice to know you noticed,” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.
“I didn’t…well, it’s not a mystery or anything,” I let out. “I’m sure you hear it a lot.”
“No,” he answered. “No, I don’t.”
I turned to completely face him with a questioning brow and was met with a look that was totally devoid of humor.
“I know I’m not repulsive, but I have brothers that women chase for their bodies. I’m, at best, in the middle of the scale-whatever the scale is comprised of,” he explained with a chuckle before going on. “And my men and I have more crucial things to talk about besides my looks.”
“Right,” I breathed.
“But you think I’m good-looking, nothing can supersede that. Ever.”
The tone of finality in his voice did something to my chest. My desire to change the subject made me remember the question that led to the subject of looks.