11. Tori #2
“That’s exactly right! I really do.” I found myself smiling despite my reservations.
“Surely you’ve at least had Sacher torte? Visited the gardens at Schonbrunn, and the Belvedere Palace? What about the Danube Tower?”
“Just the dessert so far,” I admitted. “It was great—”
He gaped at me dramatically. “Mais non! This is a catastrophe!” He checked his watch and downed the rest of his drink quickly. “We must go now. The gardens and the palace are closed, but the Tower is open until midnight.”
“Ha ha, I don’t know…”
“Yes. Come with me. If you want to see the best view of Vienna, there is no other way.”
He tried to pull me off the stool and I couldn’t help but giggle.
Sure, I barely knew the guy, but by this point, the third drink had really begun to kick in…
and I was starting to wonder what would be so bad about engaging in a little innocent sightseeing with my new friend.
Sneaking out with him would be fun, romantic, adventurous.
Essentially everything my honeymoon wasn’t—but should have been.
“You said it’s open ‘til midnight?” I asked.
“You will love this tower. I swear it.”
His hand rested lightly on my arm but I still held my cocktail.
I lifted it, drinking it down slowly, stalling for time.
Did I want to go with him? After all, it was clear that Stefan had absolutely no intention of staying true to me, so why shouldn’t I do the same?
Maybe this was exactly what I needed—to find a hot European guy I’d never see again, and just get the whole virginity thing out of the way.
There was no doubt this French guy fit the bill. He was hot, if a bit cartoonish, and clearly attracted to me. I would bet all the designer clothes I’d bought that day that if I asked to skip the sightseeing and go straight to his room, he’d be more than happy to oblige.
“Why don’t we have another drink?” I said. “We have plenty of time before twelve.”
“But of course.” He motioned to the bartender for another round, and we were quickly served.
“You know the French invented the word affair,” the Frenchman said meaningfully.
“That is not strictly true in the sense that you intend it,” I informed him, raising my fresh drink for emphasis.
“Though the term ‘afaire’ originated in Old French, the connotation of it being a ‘to do’ of an illicit nature didn’t come into popular use until the 18th century, and that was the English. ”
My new friend looked perplexed. “I…see.”
“Though of course the English were repurposing the meaning of the French phrase ‘affaire de coeur,’” I plowed on, really hitting my stride, “which at the time referred to an episode of passion—but not in the sexual sense. So I guess you’re technically right and wrong.”
I smiled proudly, took a loud slurp of my drink, and plunked the glass down on the bar. Four drinks in, and I could still whip out my etymology knowledge with relative ease. Not bad.
“That was…very interesting,” he managed after a moment.
We talked for a bit, and I learned all about Rouen and why Paris was the most romantic city in the world. I was surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. For the first time on this trip, I was getting some real social interaction. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing it.
Of course, this guy may have been gorgeous—with a sexy accent and no trouble expressing his interest—but he couldn’t hold a candle to Stefan’s rugged, masculine intensity. Or those green eyes that burned straight through me. Just thinking his name had gotten me wet.
I took in the soft light reflecting off the curves of the amber bottles behind the bar, the murmur of voices around us, and I came to a decision. If I couldn’t have sex with this guy, then I might as well get totally hammered. At least it would make the evening more fun. C’est la vie.
I swiveled on my bar stool toward the Frenchman, intending to tell him I was happy to hang out for a bit, but that I was in no way going to be leaving with him tonight. But as I did, I spotted a familiar figure striding into the bar. It was Stefan.
As he scanned the room his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. I knew he would see me.
I glanced at the clock and was shocked. How was it past eight already? He’d probably been waiting for me at the restaurant this whole time. I was tempted to check my phone to see if he’d called or texted, but didn’t want to give any indication that I was hoping to hear from him.
Feeling bold, and a little vindictive, I twirled my hair around my finger and turned back to the Frenchman with a winning smile on my face. “Tell me again about the Danube Tower.”
“It’s located in Donau Park, and as the tallest building in Austria, it offers the best—”
I tilted my head back and laughed loudly, for no other reason than Stefan’s benefit. The Frenchman was clearly surprised by the abrupt reaction on my part, but it didn’t slow him down. Not for a moment. Instead, he leaned back and gave me a long, flirtatious smile.
“So I take it you’re excited to see the…tower?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, tossing my hair aggressively. “Very excited.”
My current cocktail was still about half full, so I quickly downed the rest of it, prompting a raised eyebrow from my new companion.
I was definitely feeling the warm, mind-hazing effects of all the alcohol at this point, but I didn’t care.
In fact, I felt great. I was wearing a new dress, my skin was glowing, and my hair and makeup looked fantastic.
And the way the Frenchman was looking at me—like he would be more than happy to help me slip out of that sexy dress of mine—made me feel pretty damn good. Especially since I knew Stefan was watching.
As the Frenchman waved the waiter down and ordered me another fruity concoction, I peered surreptitiously through my hair around the bar, zeroing in on where Stefan was still standing. His face was stormy and his fists were clenched.
My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and I was instantly annoyed at myself. Why couldn’t I just be attracted to the guy sitting right next to me? The one who’d actually shown interest? Why was it that Stefan—and only Stefan—got me all hot and bothered?
I looked back at my new friend. Our next round had magically appeared in front of us.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass.
I did the same. “Cheers,” I said. “To new friends.”
The Frenchman grinned at me, that grin full of sexy promises.
Promises that would never be fulfilled. I’d already decided it wasn’t going to go any further.
I was flirting in full view of Stefan merely to give him a taste of his own medicine.
I wasn’t a cheater like he was, but he wouldn’t know that I had no intention of following through with this stranger.
“To new friends,” the Frenchman echoed.
I winked at him.
It was a mistake.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stefan barreling toward us. His expression was one of fury. My heart raced—what was he going to do?
“Victoria,” he said when he reached us, his voice hard. “It appears you’ve lost track of time.”
I could hear the barely controlled rage in his voice, though it was doubtful anyone else would have any idea just how angry he was.
The Frenchman was still smiling, though his brow had creased in confusion.
“Victoria? You know this man?” he asked, looking at me.
For a moment, I didn’t know what Stefan would do. Would he tear this poor guy to shreds or simply punch him in the face?
I definitely was not expecting Stefan to reach out his hand. The Frenchman shook it, the uncertainty still evident on his face.
“I’m Tori’s husband,” he said, politely. “And you’re leaving. So get the fuck off that barstool and step away from my wife.”
Immediately, the Frenchman grew somber. “Wonderful to meet you. I wish you both a pleasant time in the city.” He withdrew his grasp and fled.
Before I even had a chance to glare at Stefan, he had his hand around my arm and was yanking me out of the bar. It was hard to tell what he was angrier about—that I had missed dinner or that I had been flirting with a stranger. Either way, he was furious. More furious than I’d ever seen him before.
He towed me across the lobby and practically shoved me into the elevator, and I almost stumbled on my high heels.
Being drunk didn’t help, though his anger was doing a lot to sober me up quick.
We were alone in the elevator when the doors closed, but Stefan wasn’t even looking at me. Wasn’t even facing me.
He had his back to me, and I saw him take a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching. It was hard to tell if he wanted to throttle me…or kiss me. Because I had seen the blazing hot passion in his eyes when he had gotten a good look at my dress.
He was angry, but he wanted me too. I felt exactly the same way.
I could almost imagine him slowly counting to ten before he let out a string of harsh, angry curse words. He didn’t look at me for the rest of the ride and by the time we got to our floor, I was fairly subdued by the tense experience.
The elevator doors opened and he stalked toward our room. I hurried after him as he swiped his keycard and walked inside.
“Aren’t we having dinner?” I asked. “I need to eat something.”
“Then you should have been on time for our reservation,” he said as he whirled to face me. “Because I already ate. At seven.”
“But—” I barely got the word out before he fixed me with a stare.
“Call room service,” he said. “I don’t have time for this. And you’d better ask for some aspirin while you’re at it. You’ll need it in the morning.”
Then he turned on his heel and went to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I sat down on the couch, my eyes wandering around the luxurious but cold, silent room, and in that moment I felt utterly alone. What had I done?
I had thought this marriage would be my escape.
Instead, I’d traded one gilded cage for another.