Chapter 12 - Georgie
It was so silly of me to think he would kiss me.
But in the moment, the intensity, the imminence of that kiss felt so real…it was as though it had already happened. But then he pulled away, and my heart crashed, and I felt the all-too-familiar reminder of rejection.
So, it was silly of me, all in all, that I forgot how clear he made it years ago that he isn’t interested in me in that way.
There is no reason to hold on to hope like I’ve been doing. The problem is that every time I manage to rein my heart in, even to the slightest degree, he does something to make me doubt myself. He gives me hope again.
Ugh. I’m like a puppy chasing a bone. I huff at my thoughts and push the blankets off my body, moving so that I’m sitting on the edge of his bed.
My clothes smell like him now.
I use my fingers to brush my hair over my shoulder. My hair smells of him, too. Everything, even my skin, is brushed with the remnants of being that close to him.
And my body is like a nuclear bomb, waiting to go off, hormones raging and heart pulsing.
I shake my head, sighing loudly as I stand up. I can hear the shower running from behind the closed bathroom door.
He isn’t interested, Georgie. He wasn’t going to kiss you. It was all in your head.
I could swear he was, though.
No.
He would have. He had the perfect opportunity in that moment, and he chose to turn away from you.
Actions speak louder than words. That’s the rule of life.
Embarrassed and disappointed, I hurry out of his room and into my own before he finishes in the bathroom.
The entire day, my head is swarmed by thoughts of him. I don’t have to go to class, but I am supposed to be studying, but I can’t get myself to focus.
Lying on my bed with textbooks spread around me, I tap my pen against my notepad and groan at myself. I haven’t written down a single note for the past hour. I’m not paying attention at all. I can’t even remember the paragraph I just read.
The thing is, it’s not only that moment from this morning. And I’ve thought about the almost-kiss a hundred times. The bottom line is that I’m pretty good at reading people, and he was about to kiss me. But it could have been different reasons than what I would hope for.
But it’s not just that moment that I’m factoring in. There was the night before, our long talk, how much he opened up to me, and how supportive he was in celebrating with me at dinner.
It all means something.
Or it means nothing, and he only spoke to you because you bullied him into it, refusing to back down or give up.
I roll onto my back and press my fingers against my eyes.
Maybe I was too pushy. But I really enjoyed speaking to him late into the night.
And even more than that, I enjoyed waking up in his arms, pressed against his gorgeous body with his eyes on me.
I can’t be that naive that I’m reading so wrongly into this situation.
But also, I’m fully aware of my own bias, my wants and needs outweighing my ability to see things for what they are instead of what I hope for.
And if I also include the fact that I’ve been dreaming of this man for years, comparing everyone to him…
I imagine if I went to a psychologist, they’d tell me I’m suffering from limerence.
I chuckle. Diagnosing myself has never been too easy.
This whole situation has thrown me off, though.
It’s frustrating.
It’s driving me crazy.
Why can’t I just be bold enough to ask him?
Because you’re terrified of the hurt it will cause when he rejects you again.
That little bite of reality is like a knife in my heart.
Because he will reject me again.
Honestly, I need to stop thinking about him altogether and just focus on my studies. That’s where my future lies, not in some silly fantasy I made up years ago about a man who kissed me once.
I push myself to the edge of the bed and stand up. My tummy is grumbling with hunger, but I’m reluctant to go downstairs for dinner.
I’m being childish, avoiding him. He has every right not to want to be with me. And after what he told me last night, he’s gone out of his way to protect me from his father. That’s something he never had to do. I should show more appreciation, now that I understand the whole picture.
He did that for Jess, and for me.
There is a soft side to him that I haven’t seen. He cares deeply for his sister.
But if I go and sit opposite him at the dinner table, my whole body is going to be on fire again, impossibly turned on, with no way to relieve the yearning desire already bubbling over inside me.
But I’m hungry. And I’m not going to be a rude guest in his home.
With heavy reluctance, I roam downstairs to the dining room. The chef is busy carrying dinner from the kitchen and setting up the table.
“Mr. Ilyin will be down shortly,” he smiles, gesturing for me to take my usual seat. I sit, regretting my decision the moment Kristopher walks in. He’s wearing a black suit, fresh out of a meeting, looking crisp and devilishly handsome.
“How has the studying been going? You’ve been very quiet today,” he says, pulling his chair back and taking a seat.
“It’s going well,” I mutter. “How has your day been?” I can barely look at him. Dammit, I wish he had kissed me.
“Busy,” he says curtly. When I steal a glance at him, he’s looking down at the plate of food Jeremey is dishing up.
“Thanks,” he nods at the chef.
“Enjoy,” Jeremey says, then winks at me. For no reason at all, my cheeks flush bright pink. Of course, that is the moment that Kris chooses to look at me, so in horror, they turn even more pink, glowing hot with embarrassment.
“It’s so hot in here,” I stammer, waving my hand in front of my face.
Kris narrows his eyes. “Do you want me to open a window?”
“No,” I giggle nervously. “I’ll be fine.” I grab my fork and start pushing the spaghetti around my plate.
The rest of dinner isn’t any less awkward as we eat in uncomfortable silence, and I keep looking at him, wishing we could be together. Wishing that things were different.
But it isn’t. It is what it is. And I’m a big girl. I can handle it.
***
The next morning, I’m relieved to be going to class. Kristopher has hired a bodyguard for me, so I can spend a little time out of the house and with my friends on campus and get a much-needed break from the man of my dreams.
I pick up my book bag and sling it over my shoulder with a little huff of effort. Heading downstairs, I find my bodyguard waiting at the front door. He immediately steps in and takes my bag from me. “I’ll take this to the car. I’ll be waiting there whenever you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you,” I smile.
He pushes the front door open, and my heart jumps when I see another man standing outside on the front step.
He smirks at me, his pale gray eyes and square jaw reminding me of a Kristopher.
“You must be Georgie,” the man says, stepping into the house without an invitation.
“I am.”
He holds his hand out to shake mine, then, when he has me in his grasp, he pulls me closer and hugs me instead. “It’s so good to meet my son’s wife. I must admit, I was a little surprised, because I only found out about the marriage yesterday.”
His father. This is his father. My heart races and I swallow hard, straightening my back as I step away from him.
“Are you here to meet with Kristopher? Shall I go find him for you?”
“No, don’t worry yourself with that. I’d rather like to get to know you, too,” he says, his eyes roaming over me. I place my hand over my chest, feeling intensely self-conscious.
“I’m Faiz,” he says, his smile confident.
“It’s nice to meet you in person, Faiz. I’ve heard a little about you.”
“Is that so? All good things, I hope,” he chuckles. There is a way about him that reminds me of Kris; a charm to his voice, his mannerisms.
“Are you sure I can’t go find Kris for you?” I ask, taking a step away from him, fully aware that even if this man’s charming side reminds me of Kristopher, he is nothing like his son, and I should be very wary of interacting with him.
Faiz walks deeper into the house. “I found out about your marriage to my son through one of my colleagues. Can you imagine that? I didn’t even hear about it from my own son.”
I bite my tongue, not wanting to rudely blurt out that his son has been trying to get hold of him and has left a hundred messages.
I don’t know the finer details of their dynamic, but I do know that neither Jess nor Kristopher have love for this man. Fear, anger, resentment, but not love.
“Did you know he was meant to marry someone else? I guess that’s why it came as such a shock to me. I had to come see you with my own eyes.” His voice is edged with bitterness. Even his charm can’t hide it. He is like a child, pouting over a toy he didn’t win.
Did he really just say that Kris was meant to marry someone else? Was he dating someone before all of this happened?
Is that why he’s keeping his distance from me? The marriage really was just for my safety, literally nothing more.
No, surely Kristopher would have said something. Faiz is playing with me. That can’t be true.
“Someone else?” I ask, knowing I’m walking right into his trap. He set the bait on the floor, and I wandered right over it and picked it up.
I can’t help it. The jealous ache in my chest is like a bee sting, sharp and painful.
“Yes, her name is Leora. Her friends call her Leo. She’s fiercely beautiful; honestly, the nickname suits her.
She has a fiery temperament and a face and body so exquisite it should be illegal.
She grew up in the mafia, so she knows all about it, able to play the games, understanding the business and pleasure of it.
Her background means she understands wealth.
And status. She would have been the ultimate wife for a Bratva king.