Chapter 10 - Georgie
The music is blasting at full volume in the empty mansion. I have the entire place to myself, and I’m so happy I could scream. Today was incredible. I can’t believe how well I’m doing. I’m so proud of myself.
I jump up and down on the sofa, the soft pillows bouncing me high, feeling like a naughty kid, then jump off it onto the fluffy carpet, my bare feet tickled by the soft pale fibers.
I spin around, letting my short summer dress flare out like a ballerina while my hair flows wildly around me.
I feel glowing, a light glitter of perspiration on my skin.
My breathing is heavy, and my heart is overflowing as I shout the words to one of my favorite songs.
I’ve had it on repeat, this is the fifth time it’s playing, and I don’t care. I love it.
I’m celebrating, and there’s no one around to tell me to stop, anyway. There’s no one to be annoyed by my music choice.
This is definitely one of the perks of living in a mansion that I could get used to. The neighbors are so far away they wouldn’t hear my music if I played it this loud in the dead of night.
At some point, I think I forgot how much I love dancing. How much I need it.
It sets my body free, letting my spirit soar. I’m flowing and spinning and singing and forgetting everything that’s happened except for the good. I’m alone, I’m free to let go. And I’m enjoying every second of it.
This is what Jess and I used to do whenever we celebrated. We’d blast the music, drink champagne, and laugh all night as we danced together.
She might not be here, but I still have every reason to celebrate.
The song ends, and I spin, giggling, waiting for it to start again.
“Are you having fun, little one?” His deep voice makes me jump, and I scream so loud I give myself another fright on top of the one I get from finding him watching me.
My heart races as I press my hand over it, trying to ease away the adrenaline.
I’m not alone. How long has he been standing there with that look on his face?
Now my heart starts racing for a different reason as butterflies dance in my stomach. He looks gorgeous. The dark smile on his face, the tilt of his jaw, and that look in his pale gray eyes all have me thinking of the moment he pushed me against the wall. The kiss.
I rush over to the table and grab the remote, turning the volume down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were home. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, don’t ever apologize,” he cuts in, looking amused as he shakes his head. “You looked like you were having the time of your life.” He grins wider. Ugh. Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
He cocks his head to the side and saunters into the living room. I stand, shy, shifting on my feet, wondering how long he was standing there. Did he see me jump on the sofa? Will he be mad?
“What has you in such a brilliant mood?” he asks, standing close enough that I can smell his cologne, and impulsively, I step towards him.
“I, um, I got some good news today. They released the results from our last exams. Um, the assessments. I did really well.” I can’t hide the proud smile stretched across my face. I did better than really well. I freaking aced them.
Kristopher steps even closer. His hand brushes over my arm, setting my skin on fire. His touch grazes over me, his fingertips trailing my skin until he wraps his fingers over my hand.
I have no idea what he’s doing until he gently pulls the remote from my fingers. For some reason, this disappoints me.
I bite my lip.
“Sorry, I had it so loud,” I say, taking a step away from him, intoxicated by him and needing to escape it.
“Actually, I was thinking we should open some champagne, and that you should definitely keep dancing. That’s amazing news, Georgie. I know how hard you’ve worked for this. Please, don’t let me stop your celebration. I’ll grab a bottle from the fridge.”
At first, I can’t tell if he’s teasing me. But when I look up into his eyes, I see genuine warmth, genuine care. He really is happy for me.
He pushes the volume up and reaches out to take my hand.
I’m shy, my cheeks heating, as he pulls me towards him, then pushes me away again and spins me. “Dance. It’s beautiful to watch. I don’t often have the pleasure of seeing someone so happy,” he smiles, letting go of my hand and gesturing with a tilt of his chin.
He turns his back on me, walking towards the bar fridge at the edge of the living room. And I think to myself, fuck it. I want to dance. I want to celebrate. And if I can celebrate with Jess, I can celebrate with him.
It’ll be nice to have someone to enjoy this moment with.
The music is blaring again, my song, and I do a nervous spin, trying to find my flow again. But when the chorus comes on, I can’t resist. I’m singing. I dancing. I’m sipping champagne and loving every moment of it.
But now there is an added element. His eyes on me as I turn and sway my hips. The hungry look etched across his face when I glance at him over my shoulder and smile.
He sips his champagne slowly while his unrelenting focus is on me. The intensity of his watchful stare shakes me.
I feel desired. Wanted. Adored.
But that’s silly. He’s just watching me dance.
The song plays another three times, and after that, I’m dancing out, happy, and giggling as I flop down onto the sofa next to him. He hands me my glass of champagne and holds his up. I touch the edge of my glass to his.
“I’m really proud of you, Georgie. You are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, and you deserve everything you’ve worked so hard for,” he says, causing a heated ball of emotion to swell in my chest.
I put my lower lip, smiling, watching his face.
“Are you okay?” I ask when I catch the hint of sadness in his eyes. Despite being so eager to celebrate with me, now that I’m sitting with him, I can see something is bothering him.
He chuckles, waving his hand and brushing off my question. “It was a long day, but coming home to this made me forget all about it.” He smiles, a crooked, sexy smile. The shadow of stubble over his face adds to his rugged, beautiful appearance.
He’s rolled his sleeves halfway up his forearm, and I study the tattoos inked into his skin. Reaching out, I gently touch his arm.
“Do they mean anything?” I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never asked.
“Some of them do. Some of them don’t.”
“They’re beautiful,” I remark.
He lifts his hand and places his finger beneath my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. “Do you want to go out for dinner? To continue with this celebration? You can wear that gorgeous black dress, we can go dancing in the city?”
I giggle. I would actually love to go on a date with Kristopher. But that isn’t what this would be. And I have a ton of studying to do tomorrow.
“No, I have to be up super early again. I aced that exam, but there are more to come. I just wanted to celebrate a little. The big celebration will have to wait.”
The fact that he asked, though…I still can’t figure out who I am to this man. What I am.
I wish I could see myself through his eyes so I could understand his thoughts.
“That’s alright, we can still celebrate with dinner here at home.” He stands and holds his hand out to me. I place my fingers against his palm, and he pulls me to my feet.
The chef brings out a roast chicken with caramelized carrots and crispy roast potatoes.
We carry on drinking champagne, and Kristopher asks me about the exam I took and how it affects my overall results.
His genuine interest is heartwarming, but I wish he would also talk about whatever is bothering him.
All through dinner, sitting across from him, I can see how lost in thought he is.
He’s doing his best to hide it, but I can read him better than he thinks.
“What happened today that’s bothering you so much?” I ask.
He chuckles, then sighs, as though he’s feeling hopeless and drained. “Honestly, it’s just been a long day. There isn’t anything specific. It’s a culmination of many things.”
“Are you sure? Because you look…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Exhausted, but also weighed down by something more specific than just a bunch of stuff.”
“How amazing are these carrots?” he asks, stabbing his fork into one of them. I roll my eyes. Classic redirection, but so obvious a child could have spotted it a mile away.
“They’re great,” I answer, allowing him to change the subject, having learned in my studies that pushing too hard doesn’t always get you answers.
Some people need a more subtle approach.
With Kris, though, I can’t figure out if he needs a subtle approach or a kick in the head to break through his thick skull.
He’s built walls so high that even his sister complains about it sometimes.
At least they seem close, from what she’s told me, and the small moments I’ve seen shared between them.
In his life, his position of power, I imagine he’s learned that emotions are a form of weakness, something that can be used against you.
The stereotypical stance that men do not show emotion, apart from anger.
I usually veer away from stereotypical assumptions, but with him, it’s a challenge in that regard.
I push my food around my plate, feeling the frustration of not being able to get him to talk to me. It’s what I do. It’s in my nature to want to help people, and even more so with him. The man I’ve been dreaming of for years.
Why can’t he just talk to me?
I’m trapped here in this house with him. He’s forced me to be a part of his life, but he blocks me out. I need a connection. I need real conversations that have meaning.
I sigh heavily, pulling my mouth tight.
After a moment of awkward silence, my brain lights up. “My family lives out in the suburbs,” I say, relaxed and chatty. “They love it out there, but I always longed for the city life. It felt like this big adventure ever since I was little.”
Kristopher cocks his head to the side, as though he’s analyzing me. I carry on.
“And I love it here. I don’t think I could live in the suburbs again. Not for an extended period of time. The energy of the city is amazing. When I visit my parents, I miss it, but it’s still nice to spend time with them. They don’t like coming to visit me here.”
“Jess is getting more and more upset that I haven’t visited her yet,” he says, pulled into the conversation. “She doesn’t realize how much work I have going on here,” he shrugs.
“She misses you. From what she’s told me, you guys were pretty close growing up?”
He nods, a captivating smile on his face. “We were always there for each other. I guess we only had each other at the end of the day. My father was…still is…a bully. He should never even have been a parent.”
“Well, you guys turned out okay,” I grin, teasing him. “For the most part,” I add with a cheeky smile.
He chuckles. “When Jess was about twelve, she went through a phase where she was obsessed with horses. She was determined to convince my father to get her one. I knew it would never happen, but we spent two full days making a poster. She had this massive plan. A presentation that she would make in front of him, like a business proposal, for how she would take care of the horse and do all the work. I remember that poster so vividly in my mind. She cut out pictures from magazines, researched food and stables, and pretty much everything. It was very impressive. And honestly, a lot of fun to help her put together.”
“And?” I ask, flooded with curiosity. “What did your father say?”
He scoffs. “My father never saw it. She tried over and over again to get his attention for the smallest moment, to book a meeting with him, but he never had time for us.”
“That really sucks. It must have hurt her,” I say, picturing a very young Jess, chasing her dreams but not even having the chance to voice them to her father.
Kristopher laughs to himself. When he looks up at me, his eyes are bright.
“I dressed up in one of his jackets. I was in my early twenties then. I set up a fake meeting for her to attend and acted like my father so she could do her presentation. She went all in. I acted like a dick, you know, to play the character properly. We ended up laughing till we were crying.”
My heart swells, picturing him as an older brother, doing such a sweet thing for her.
“That’s amazing, Kris. I’m sure it meant the world to her. She never told me that story…but…I just realized—she still has that poster. It was stuck on the inside of her closet door for the longest time.”
“Really?” he says, happy to hear this. “If she kept it, that means it became a fond memory for her, not another moment our father let us down.”
“It’s probably a very special moment she’s holding onto between the two of you,” I agree.
Dinner comes to an end, and while I did manage to get Kris to open up a bit more, he still hasn’t told me what’s bothering him, and as our conversation fades, his face becomes shadowed with worry again.
“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” I say, pushing him again.
“I’m going to head to bed. I need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.” He smiles and stands up. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, Georgie. And congratulations again on your exam results.”
He nods politely and walks from the dining room.
For a moment, I just sit there, annoyed. Frustrated. Thinking again about how I live with this man, how I’m actually married to him, but our connection is still so basic.
Looking towards the door, I decide, to hell with it. I stand up and storm after him, refusing to let this go.
He’s almost at his bedroom door when I run in front of him and block his path. “Georgie?” he exclaims in surprise, coming to a standstill.
“It’s your father, isn’t it? That’s what’s bothering you,” I demand.
“I’m tired and…”
“Why can’t you just talk to me, Kris? I’m right here. I want to listen. It might really help to just get it out so whatever you’re worried about can stop looping in your head”.
He sighs and pushes his hand through his thick hair.
Kristopher steps around me, walking into his bedroom. Boldly, I follow him, blocking his path again.
We’re standing near his bed. I’m in his personal space. But I won’t back down. Not this time.
For some reason, I just know in my heart that if I walk away now, it will form the basis for all our interactions in the future. And I want more than shallow conversation. I want him to trust me. To let me in.
This strange, intense need fuels a determined fire in my soul, and I tilt my chin up, my lips pressed together, and a fierce confidence in my eyes as I stare him down.