Chapter 18
TEMPORARY ETERNITY
Some eternities are measured in moments of bliss
Della
The fire snaps softly in the fireplace, each flicker of flame chasing shadows across the stone walls. I draw my knees up and hug them beneath the bathrobe, letting the warmth seep into skin still a little wet from the shower.
I close my eyes. The silk clings to my body like a whisper. The coolness of the fabric on my heated skin reminds me of the way he touched me just minutes ago. The heat rushes to my cheeks—and it sure isn’t from the fire.
I open my eyes, the fire inside me blazing in the look I give him.
“The view is really… incredible.” I say my voice laced with a slow, wicked smile.
He’s over there in the kitchen, arranging a simple platter of cheese, and fruits.
Barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers clinging low to his hips.
His chest is broad and hard, each muscle shifting as he moves, the deep V of his abdomen drawing my eyes lower until the fabric cuts me off.
“Is it?” He catches my eyes, and I see amusement flickering in his dark eyes, like he knows exactly what I desire. He licks a bit of cheese off his finger, slow as molasses, and his lips curve into a warm, devastating smile that makes my heart ache.
“Well, enjoy it while you can, my love. I’ll zoom in closer in just a few minutes.”
Anticipation rises and makes me blush.
How is this possible? We made love all day and yet my body is still hungry for him.
I stretch out on the white fur rug whit my wine, cool glass sweating in my hand.
The wine’s crisp, maybe a little too sweet, but who cares.
I’m happy. For once, I’m just… happy.
How little we need… How much we struggle for moments like this…
He spoiled me today. A little restaurant by the water, where the view stretched endless and the food tasted heavenly.
A long walk, an easy talk about our families.
The sunset—his laughter when he convinced me to sit at the helm, my hands on the wheel while his arms framed me from behind, touching everything but the wheel.
He leaned close, his breath warm at my ear.
‘Don’t let go, or we’ll crash.’ He whispered with a smile, but I knew he meant more. ‘Trust is harder than fear, but infinitely more rewarding.’
Márquez had his river that carried lovers into eternity. **
Today, we had this lake—silent, blue, holding back the rest of the world. Every ripple against the hull felt like a promise—for now, no one can reach us. We had been given a small eternity, packed into a handful of blissful moments. Untouchable, if only for a while.
If I could trap time inside a snow globe, it would hold a lake, a boat, and a small lake house at its edge. A fragile universe I’d name ‘Temporary Eternity’.
For now, I just sit before the fire, letting the warmth soak through my bones and soothe the old memories.
And there he is—the man, who has become my everything—moving through the kitchen with quiet focus to spoil me with… everything.
* * *
Dorian
She doesn’t know I’m watching her as I set the strawberries down, arranging them among the cheese and nuts.
She looks like something sculpted by firelight—silk wrapped around soft curves, her hair tumbling loose, her eyes half-closed in that rare, fragile peace.
God, I’d sell my soul to keep her like this.
I set the last wedge of blue cheese in place—her favorite—and carry the platter toward her, a bottle of wine at ice, balanced in my other hand.
She looks up as I approach. Her eyes widen, then soften. I feel it—the sharp sting in my chest, the ache that says maybe, just maybe, her heart is healing.
“For you, Goddess of Goddesses,” I say as I lower the platter onto the thick white fur in front of the fire.
I pour the wine into her glass, then mine. The words taste like music—the same song we played on repeat in my car five years ago, the one that branded her name into my life.
She parts her lips in a soft smile, the robe shifting as she turns slightly toward me, revealing the soft, teasing curve of her breast.
“It would taste better if served… desnudo**,” she says, taunting as she acknowledges my reference to the Spanish song.
“Couldn’t agree more.” My finger traces down the elegant line of her throat, past the flutter of her pulse, between her breasts. I pause only long enough to tug loose the knot of her robe, silk falling open to reveal the body that undoes me every time.
“So, you’re really hungry?” I tease.
She trembles and places her delicate hands on my chest, moving lower and lower.
“Can’t help it,” she whispers, her lips grazing my ear before catching my earlobe between her teeth. “It all looks very… appetizing.”.
I pull back with a smile.
“First,” I say, “I have an offering for my goddess.”
I reach into the ice bucket, my fingers dipping past the chilled bottle until they sting from the cold.
“Close your eyes,” I murmur “No peeking.”
She hesitates, then obeys, lashes fluttering down.
I lift my hand and let my chilled fingertips graze her lips, her collarbone, her nipples—her breath catches, a gasp tearing free as her body arches instinctively toward my touch.
And then, I lower the necklace. A ruby, dark and deep red, bold, set in gold. The ice-kissed stone rests just above the swell of her breasts, over her heart, catching the firelight until it looks as though it’s burning from within.
“Open.” I breathe as I place a soft kiss on her lips, inhaling her hypnotizing scent.
Her eyes fly open, and for a moment she doesn’t breathe.
“Dorian…” she whispers, fingers trembling as they rise to touch the gem, as if afraid it isn’t real.
I cover her hand with mine, pressing stone and heart together. My eyes lock on hers.
“I was like this once,” I say quietly. “Cold. Hard. Until I met you. Your fire, your heart—turned stone into flesh. You made me want more. Made me alive.”
The ruby glows between us, firelight sparking in its facets.
“This isn’t the rarest stone in the world,” I continue, reverent. “But it is the most powerful. It’s the stone of heart. Of passion. Of love. Just like you. It protects, it burns, it endures— as I will, for you.”
Her throat works. Tears gloss her eyes, but she doesn’t look away.
“You are my ruby, Della. My fire.”
Behind her, the flames bend and leap, casting her in shadows and light, gilding her skin until she doesn’t just look like fire—she is fire. My fire.
She parts her lips, but no words come. Her breath trembles, her body trembles, and I know this is enough.
I let the last barrier fall—boxers sliding to the floor—leaving me bare before her, offering not just my body, but all I am.
“Goddess,” I whisper, bowing my head in surrender. “I am all yours. Desnudo, as requested.”
Her hand rises to the ruby, her eyes burning into mine.
“And I am all yours,” she breathes, every word a vow.
For a moment, neither of us moves. The silence between us is holy—flames crackling, shadows bending, the world held back by walls of stone and love.
Then I take her into my arms, into the firelight, into the promise of forever.
* * *
Della
The highway unfurls like a ribbon of black silk ahead of us, landscape blurring past, the late afternoon sun slanting low, gilding the windshield in gold.
His car—a sleek black beast of power and elegance, everything a man like Dorian Marshall should drive—hums beneath my hands, smooth and obedient, begging to go faster.
His knuckles are white against the door handle, his arm taut. His shirt pulls tight across his chest with every small shift, and his eyes—those endless black eyes—are wide open, flicking from the road to me like he’s not sure which is more dangerous.
And I?
I smile.
A wide, reckless smile that stretches to my ears.
The wind is rushing through the open window tugging strands of hair free until they whip wild around my face.
I feel alive.
“Oh, God, Della, slow down!” His voice hits somewhere between command and prayer.
“I am fast and… not furious,” I laugh, tipping my head toward him, letting the speed fuel me. “Fast and Fortunate. Yes, that’s what I am.”
“I am more into furious, right now,” he mutters, voice dry, but I catch the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips, he tries to smother. “You promised to behave at the wheel. Instead, I am bracing for impact at every turn.”
“Oh, please! I obey all the speed limits—well, barely.” My laughter spills out as I press the pedal a little more, and the car seems to grin with me.
“Barely, yes!” He shakes his head, finally letting his mouth curve into a grin. “We’ll barely make it alive if you drive like this all the way to Chicago.”
“Mr. Marshall,” I mock, putting extra weight on the title, “I requested a test drive with your incredible, ridiculously sexy car, and you granted my request. That’s exactly what I’m doing—testing the car.”
I flick my eyes to him, grinning. “Its options. And… limits.”
He exhales, long-suffering.
“I invoke temporary memory loss. Can I have my car back, please?”
But his eyes betray him—dark, glowing with amusement, with something more. With the joy of watching me.
“Nope, not yet.” I switch lanes smoothly, letting the car glide, then accelerate, the engine purring like a satisfied predator. “I am having too much fun.”
That’s when his hand leaves the armrest and finds my thigh, large and warm through the thin fabric of my dress. His fingers flex gently—a quiet tether. His voice is softer now, steady as his touch.
“I missed seeing you like this—wild, smiling, alive.”
I turn just enough to catch his eyes, his words sinking into me.
“I missed it, too.” My voice cracks on the truth.
And I realize it’s been so long since I felt this—not being afraid, not worrying. Just freedom. Reckless, laughing freedom. The kind I only ever felt with him.
I grip the wheel tighter, because it’s not just the car I’m driving—it’s the moment.
I enjoy the driving and the road stretching ahead. Always did.
I enjoy his hand on my thigh. Him. Us.
I enjoy me. Being me again.
But as the highway stretches on, a darker thought pricks sharp at the edge of my joy.
What comes next?
Isn’t this too fast?
* * *
Dorian
I watch her walk ahead of me, hips swaying, her body moving with that unconscious grace that turns even the simplest step into a dance.
The elevator doors gleam in front of her, but all I see is the echo of her smile behind the wheel earlier, wind tangling her hair, laughter bursting free like music. My chest tightens with the memory.
I would have let her drive across the whole damn country if it meant keeping that smile on her face.
After the little Mexican place she spotted on the way, she handed me back the keys.
“I need a change of perspective,” she said, eyes glowing. “I want to watch you this time.”
Now, in the lobby, she glances back at me, her lips curved in that half-teasing way that makes my blood stir.
“Top floor, I imagine?”
“Yes.” My voice is steady as I shift the bags, but inside I’m anything but.
She agreed to stay the night—on the condition I drive her to the hotel in the morning to meet Adriana before work.
We will meet after work and talk about the rest—her work, her visa, moving in together. And… about the deal. I didn’t want to spoil these days. I wanted them to be all about her, making her shine and smile again. But tomorrow, I will tell her.
The doors slide open into my apartment, and I wait for her reaction.
“Ha,” she breathes, stepping inside, eyes sweeping the space. “It’s different than I expected.”
“And what did you expect?” I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“Well… Colder. Darker. Minimalist. But this… this is warm. Cozy. It feels… really nice.”
She runs her hand along the arm of the oversized sofa, pauses at the leather armchair by the shelves lined with books and whiskey. The wood is dark, the fabrics deep and rich, everything masculine but softened with warmth: thick rugs, low light, the faint scent of cedar and smoke.
“Come,” I say, threading my fingers through hers, leading her past the glass wall toward the terrace.
When she steps outside, she freezes.
“This is… amazing,” she whispers.
Chicago sprawls beneath us, a tapestry of glittering lights stitched against the velvet dark.
The lake stretches wide and endless, a black mirror rimmed with silver where the moon spills itself across the water.
The hum of the city rises faintly from below, a reminder of life still moving, but here—twenty stories above—it feels distant, hushed. A world apart.
“You can see everything. The city, the lake…” Her hand drifts to the ruby at her throat. Her eyes shimmer, wide with wonder. “Dorian, this is incredible.”
I step behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, draw her back into me. She leans her head against my chest, fingers brushing the ruby as though tethering herself to both stone and heart.
“It really is incredible,” I murmur against her hair. “Having you here. Being here with you. I didn’t even dare to hope…”
Her body fits against mine as though it had been carved for this space, this moment. Small, soft, utterly right and with that unforgettable Jasmin scent.
I breathe her in, and for a second, I still don’t believe it. I pinch myself every time she laughs, every time she touches me.
Della asleep in my arms.
Della in firelight, wearing nothing but the ruby.
Della laughing, alive, free.
She is here. She’s back.
And I will put my life—and this city—at her feet.
Whatever it takes, she will never leave again.
The world will break before I let it happen.
** In “Love in the Time of Cholera” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez the lovers’ journey down the river represents an eternal sanctuary for love—an image I echo here on Lake Geneva.
** desnudo - Spanish for naked