10. Tori
TORI
So he thought of me as a whore? Fine. I’d spend his money as if I’d earned it like one.
“Room service,” a crisp, Austrian-accented voice answered.
“Good morning,” I said sweetly. “Can you tell me what you have for breakfast, please? And is there champagne this early?”
I ordered recklessly, not even asking the prices. If I was going on this adventure by myself, I was determined to treat myself right.
Along with the champagne, I asked for an Italian espresso, a carafe of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a pot of tea. I took the suggestions given to me and selected two different egg dishes and an artisanal bread basket, adding the roasted local asparagus and a platter of bacon and sliced ham.
“We…also have apple strudel and plum jam turnovers?” the voice said. “They’re from a prominent local bakery. Though perhaps you won’t have room for—”
“Why not? Give me two of each.” And just to be extra decadent, I ordered the Strawberries Romanoff—which came with three different flavors of cream.
Room service had to send up three carts to deliver my order. I tipped extravagantly.
There was no way I could finish it all, but I made sure to sample everything.
Full to bursting after my indulgent breakfast, I got dressed and headed downstairs to the luxury spa on the first floor of the hotel.
I tried to be annoyed that I had essentially been banished here, but it was hard to keep up the sour attitude once I was presented with a pamphlet of spa options.
I figured Stefan owed me the best massage that money could buy, to make up for all the hurt and anger and frustration he’d caused, but I couldn’t even figure out where to start.
And then my eyes zeroed in on something with the right amount of dollar signs attached to it.
“What exactly is the ‘Gold Package’?” I asked the young woman behind the granite counter. She was wearing a lab coat and a turtleneck, like a doctor, except she was all in black.
“It’s a series of treatments using pure twenty-four karat gold, with a three-step full body massage, a gold leaf facial, and a gold dust mani-pedi. It also includes a gold flake martini and a selection of gold-dipped truffles.” She smiled at my stunned look. “I realize it sounds a bit extreme.”
I laughed. “It sounds perfect, actually. I’ll take it.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course, but…the appointment lasts approximately five hours.”
I slid the suite’s keycard toward her, and her gaze darted to my huge diamond ring.
“Charge it to my room,” I told her breezily. “And I’d like to leave a generous tip as well. Including for yourself.”
“We’ll get you started right away.” She was beaming ear to ear.
“Oh, and is there a cosmetologist on staff? Maybe a hair stylist? I have an event tonight. It would be amazing if I could get my hair and makeup done.”
“We have a full salon,” she answered. “And if you don’t mind me saying so…your partner is going to be struck dumb when you show up to that event later.”
“I’m counting on it,” I said, flashing a wicked smile. “Believe me.”
They started me off by leading me to a gorgeous, private changing room done up in wall-to-wall Italian marble, where I was given a robe so soft that it had to be cashmere, and then I was escorted into the spa to begin my experience.
But first, I was given my golden martini—delicious—and left alone to relax in a private steam room, lying there completely naked so my pores could open up.
Soothing ocean sounds were piped in, and I felt my tense muscles start to loosen as the balmy temperature and the music coaxed me into a zen-like state.
I was determined to enjoy this. I would not think about Stefan.
Before I knew it, I was back in my robe and being taken to another room, where a woman with a severe bun and a no-nonsense demeanor began scrubbing my body down with an exfoliating clay that shimmered with pure gold powder.
“That smells so good,” I sighed. “Like lemon and licorice.”
“It is anise and verbena,” the woman told me. “Now turn onto your back.”
Every time I felt a flash of hurt or anger toward Stefan, I reminded myself that I was here to indulge, to focus completely on myself. It mostly worked.
The aesthetician had come in to work on me, and I interrupted my gold leaf and collagen facial only long enough to ask, “Does the gold leaf actually do anything?”
“Of course. These treatments were used in Ancient China, and by Cleopatra. The gold lifts out toxins and stimulates cell reproduction. It’s good for wrinkles too, not that you need it.”
I smiled at the compliment and tried to imagine myself as Cleopatra, draped in pearls and oozing sex appeal. Stefan Zoric, eat your heart out.
After I was rinsed off, I was laid out on a table and a different woman came in and sprayed my body with gold infused massage oil. Then the masseuse went to work on my muscles. I felt like butter beneath her strong hands, all of my tension and stress melting away with each stroke of pressure.
After a while, I began to imagine it was Stefan touching me. Stroking me.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander as my body was taken care of.
I imagined him leaning over me, his hands kneading into my neck and shoulders before moving lower, caressing my lower back.
Then lower, massaging my gluteal muscles, his thumbs moving in deep, slow circles until the muscles relaxed under his hands.
He’d ease my thighs apart, fingers slipping between my legs, where I ached to be touched.
I imagined him starting to stroke me, gliding back and forth with his thumb before thrusting a thick finger inside, his pacing timed to match my shallow, quickening breaths.
His mouth would dip close to my ear, whispering naughty things to me as he touched me. Teased me.
“That’s my curious little cat,” he’d say, pumping deeper.
He’d be good with his hands. He was older, and experienced. He knew how to make a woman come. I bet he’d guess exactly what I wanted before I even figured it out myself.
As I lay there, the fantasy overwhelming me, I realized that I wasn’t just mad at him for what had happened that morning…I was upset with myself. For believing that this could be something more. For wanting it to be something more. I had been na?ve.
But I was attracted to him. Deeply. Regardless of the circumstances, I wanted to take our marriage to the next level, find out what our bodies were capable of. Unfortunately, I was beginning to realize that that had never been part of the deal.
“You’re so tense,” the masseuse told me, no doubt feeling all the tightness that was now building in my shoulders and back.
I did my best to relax again, but all I could think about was Stefan. Why couldn’t I stay annoyed at him? Why did I want him to touch me, to kiss me, to caress me? He had made it clear that he wasn’t interested, yet my body craved him.
Of all the people in the world, I had to be attracted to my arranged marriage husband. The one person who seemed to have literally no interest in me. Or if he did, he was more than happy to ignore that attraction. It definitely wasn’t as important as his work.
Knowing I was playing with fire, I slipped back into my sexy daydream.
I imagined him standing above me, positioning me on all fours, pulling my knees wide.
Exposing me to him fully. In my fantasy he spread my thighs with his hands and then licked my opening, already wet for him.
He stroked me with his tongue, his fingers pushing into me at the same time, and I imagined my desperate moans, my orgasm coming fast.
He wouldn’t even wait for my body to stop shaking before he’d position himself behind me.
Then he’d slam himself deep inside, grabbing my hips for leverage as he thrusted hard, grunting with effort.
Maybe he’d fist his hand in my hair to tug my head back, my pain and pleasure mixing in equal measure, pumping faster and faster until he came, groaning my name.
The intensity of the fantasy surprised me. I’d never thought of myself as the kind of girl who would want something like that—raw and rough—but my skin tingled with each new image that popped into my head. Because somehow, I knew how Stefan would be in bed.
He wouldn’t be gentle, nor sweet. He’d be the way he was in real life. Brusque, intense, passionate.
Still, I knew it was pointless to even imagine having him, no matter how badly I wanted it.
Maybe I was just desperate to lose my virginity and he was the most convenient person I could think of…
No. That wasn’t it at all. I wished it was, but I knew that my attraction to Stefan was unique.
The way he looked at me, how fast the heat would build between us, the hum in my body whenever he was close by.
I was positive there was something there, even if it was purely lust and nothing else.
That’s what made the whole thing so frustrating.
When I finally emerged from the salon, perfectly made up and expertly coiffed, I felt almost like a new person.
Tugging my clothes back on in the changing room, I took a hard look in the mirror.
There was no doubt about it—I was glowing.
From my professionally applied Chanel makeup to the shimmering polish on my toenails.
Stefan was probably going to freak when he saw the charges I’d been making to the room, but it would teach him a lesson not to taunt me about spending money and then leave me alone for a whole day in an expensive hotel.
Feeling a little better, I made my way to the lobby cafe for a late lunch. I couldn’t believe I was hungry after the huge breakfast I’d eaten, but all that pampering had aroused my appetite.
It was a light meal, and I barely had room to try the city’s world-famous Sacher torte, but I figured a celebration wasn’t complete without dessert.
Afterward, I decided to explore the boutique that Stefan had mentioned. I had just stepped out of the café when I glimpsed a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye. It was Stefan, gliding across the lobby, his purposeful stride instantly recognizable.
Immediately my pulse raced, as all the fantasies I’d been entertaining during my massage came back to me at full force. Stefan’s strong fingers between my legs, his grip tight on my hips, his body thrusting into mine. I felt very hot, my blood buzzing with anticipation.
I was so distracted that at first I didn’t even notice that he wasn’t alone.
No, he had a leggy brunette with him, his hand resting on her lower back.
I could only see them from behind, but he turned his head to whisper something to her and she pushed her hair behind her ear, giving me a look at her face.
She was gorgeous. Unbelievably, super-human gorgeous. With her impossibly long legs and wide-set Bambi eyes, she had to be a model.
No doubt she was exactly the kind of woman Stefan was used to being around all day.
Tall and angular, with high cheekbones and perfectly pouty lips.
The little slip of a silk blouse made it obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
As they got closer, I saw that she had winged eyeliner and a wet, pink mouth. She looked like a living doll.
She looked nothing like me.
Stefan led her toward the elevators, still whispering sweet nothings into her ear—or so I assumed. She was smiling and laughing, touching his arm and playing with her long, silky hair.
At least he wasn’t playing with it.
I should have gone into the boutique. Should have turned tail and marched out of there and spent as much of Stefan’s money as humanly possible.
Instead, I followed them. I kept my distance across the expansive lobby, but there was no need.
Neither of them noticed me standing there, off to the side.
In fact, they were so caught up in each other that I could probably run screaming across the lobby and they wouldn’t even bat an eye.
Stefan, being Stefan, kept pulling out his phone.
His date pouted a little and I bit back a smirk.
Not even this gorgeous creature could keep him away from his true love—his cellphone.
But he still had his hand on her lower back.
Already, he was touching her more than he had touched me during our entire honeymoon.
Jealousy tore through me.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I watched as they got in—alone—and the doors closed. I rushed over to the bank of elevators and called my own down.
Were they going up to our room? Did Stefan actually have the balls to think he was going to sleep with this woman in our honeymoon suite while I was still somewhere in the hotel? In flagrante delicto or not, I was going to rip them both to shreds when I got up there.
But when I arrived at our floor, the hall was empty. So was our room. I sat heavily on the sofa, where the pillow and blanket Stefan had left there last night were still perched. If he hadn’t brought her here, they had to be somewhere else in the hotel. Together.
I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat.
Not only was Stefan doing everything he could to avoid being physical with me, but he was also spending our honeymoon fooling around with some other woman.
A few hours ago, I had thought that things between us couldn’t get any worse. That I couldn’t feel any worse.
But now I realized I’d been wrong.