164

[REBECCA]
Two weeks had slipped by, and in this span of time, my focus remained firmly locked onto Artemy. His every movement commanded my attention. Each step he took seemed to possess a distinct purpose, his motions flowing effortlessly.
Artemy’s dominion over the space was undeniable. It wasn’t an illusion; he genuinely wielded this ownership not only over the room but over everything within its walls.
His strength and the commanding aura he emanated were traits I found myself drawn to. The magnetic attraction I felt toward him resonated through my being, an exquisite sensation of pleasure humming beneath my skin.
With adept speed, Artemy slipped into his dress shirt, his fingers nimbly securing each button. His physique was an epitome of perfection, at least as far as my limited observations extended.
Yet, in my eyes, he was an embodiment of perfection both in his exterior and within.
Leaving the comfort of the bed, I reached for his suit jacket, an unspoken offer to assist him. His gaze held warmth as I aided him, my hands naturally gravitating to his chest.
My palms found their place there, contouring the lines of his chiseled abdomen through the fabric. Artemy’s grip on my hips guided me closer, his touch stirring a gentle current of emotion within me.
“How are you feeling?” he inquired, his fingers tracing patterns along my hips.
“Perfect,” I replied, a smile aimed up at him, the connection between us growing stronger.
Acknowledging my words with a nod, Artemy’s expression darkened fleetingly. A shadow momentarily danced across his features, and he swallowed, a gesture reminiscent of swallowing something substantial.
I sensed a shift in his demeanor, a sudden nervousness that hadn’t been there before. “What’s the matter?” I queried, concern threading my voice.
His index finger hushed my lips tenderly. “Shh… Angel, calm down. Everything’s alright. But Howard wants to talk to you.”
Perplexity furrowed my brows. “Howard? Why? What’s going on?”
Howard had seldom uttered a word to me, his silence a constant companion. Yet, his gaze had occasionally met mine, carrying a depth of unspoken words, like a language he struggled to articulate.
If my intuition served me right, he deliberately avoided me, watching silently from the periphery. It was peculiar, yet I hadn’t given it much thought until now.
“He has important things to share, Angel. Keep in mind, he means well,” Artemy elucidated, his gaze fixed upon me with a mix of expectation and encouragement.
I nodded, but our conversation was disrupted by a knock on the door, causing me to startle and tense up involuntarily.
“That’s him,” Artemy commented before inviting, “Come in!”
Standing, I faced Artemy, who offered a small reassuring smile before turning me to face Howard as he entered.
“Hey,” Howard began, his smile slightly strained. His unease was palpable, evidenced by his clenched fists and restless fidgeting.
It was a sight rarely witnessed-a man like him exuding nervousness.
“Hi,” I greeted, a touch of timidity in my voice.
Artemy led us to the couch, settling me sideways on his lap. His hands traced calming circles over my rounding belly, offering me solace in the face of the unfolding uncertainty.
I exhaled relief and focused my attention on Howard, curiosity painted across my features.
He swallowed again, his gaze darting around before fixing upon me.
“What I’m about to say might sound unbelievable, and there’s a chance you might resent me afterward. But it’s a truth you deserve to know. The weight of keeping this concealed has been driving me mad,” Howard confessed, his voice carrying the burden of a long-held secret.
“No matter what it is, I believe we’ll find a way to deal with it,” I responded, extending a reassurance aimed at easing his evident discomfort.
Through years of adversity, I had learned the power of embracing positivity amidst negativity-a survival strategy that had become my antidote to life’s challenges.
In that moment, my eyes connected with Artemy’s. His unwavering attention felt like an anchor, grounding me in the tumult of emotions.
Could he be the antidote I sought, the balm to heal the wounds of uncertainty?
A subtle smile curved within me as the thought swept over my mind, a profound feeling of gratitude warming my chest. The one who rescued me. An impulse surged through me, coaxing me to relive that electric kiss, yet I managed to quell it, biting down on my lower lip, my focus returning to Howard’s presence.
As Howard’s voice began to weave its tale, my struggle to maintain attention dissolved. He commanded my complete focus effortlessly. His narrative unfolded, and with each word, my breath hitched, and a heavy ache settled in my chest, coaxing tears to roll down my cheeks, tracing the tracks of profound emotion.
In the midst of this emotional tumult, Artemy’s gentle gesture caught my teardrops, his touch a soothing balm. Nonetheless, every syllable Howard shared seemed to chip away at the already fragile pieces of my heart.
As Howard’s recollection reached its conclusion, a deep exhale escaped him, his gaze locked onto me, awaiting my response. Motionless, I returned his gaze, stunned by the revelations.
The words I longed to voice caught in my throat, struggling past the lump that had formed. “You knew my mother?” I finally managed to utter, my voice betraying a mix of disbelief and yearning.
He nodded, a gesture laden with memories and emotions.
“You loved her?” I sought affirmation once more, witnessing a shadow of pain that crossed his features.
Tears blurred my vision, yet I refused to let them fall unchecked. “I can’t recall you,” I confessed, my voice trembling with a blend of sorrow and regret.
“Of course, you couldn’t,” he responded, his tone tender, the weight of an understanding unspoken.
In his fatherly timbre, a shiver danced down my spine, a poignant reminder of what could have been.
“But I wish I could,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. “You were more of a father to me than my own ever was. You cared when he didn’t.”
“Always, Rebecca. From the moment I laid eyes on you,” his words bore a resonance that reverberated in my heart, tinged with a sorrow that time had not dulled.
A stifled sob quivered within me, my emotions raw and unchecked. For so long, the longing for a paternal embrace had haunted me, the vision of a father’s affectionate gaze remaining a mere dream. The reality was an existence akin to being invisible, forgotten.
Yet here stood Howard, his gaze laden with the love that should have been mine. He held me with eyes that etched lines of a father’s devotion that should have been my own.
Extracting myself from Artemy’s embrace, I approached Howard. His posture straightened in response, the full measure of his presence felt.
“I never had a father,” I confessed, stopping before him. A pause hung, charged with the weight of unspoken emotions. “I wished for one, prayed for one, but it was never granted. I had no one.”
Before he could react, I enveloped him in an embrace, a spontaneous gesture that left him momentarily stunned. “Yet I failed to realize, there was a father figure, loving from a distance.”
Howard’s sigh seemed to release a tension I hadn’t fully perceived. Gradually, he reciprocated, enfolding me in his arms, the embrace encompassing years of longing and missed opportunities.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save your mother, or you,” his voice wavered, carrying the weight of accumulated regrets.
The swell of emotion constricted my throat, yet I found the strength to voice a sentiment that transcended blame. “It wasn’t your fault. Not yours, not mine. We can’t bear blame for circumstances beyond our control.”
A tender smile played on his lips, his response painted with a fond familiarity. “You sound much like your mother.”
“Am I like her?” I inquired, a blend of curiosity and anticipation heightening my pulse.
“You bear her resemblance, her wisdom. A gentle spirit, akin to my Olivia,” Howard’s gaze shifted slightly, allowing him to study my features more closely.
His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, the depth of his emotions undeniably palpable. “I may never forgive myself for failing her. But having you here, safe and cherished, provides some measure of solace.”
A quiver ran through my chin, and I nodded, absorbing his words with a fragile hope. Summoning courage, I voiced the question that held my heart captive.
“Can I still be your daughter?”
In that moment, I stood vulnerable, akin to a child in search of a scrap of affection.
My mind wandered back to the tender days of my early childhood. Back then, I always yearned for my father’s presence. I craved his company in playful activities, his soothing touch while tucking me into bed, and his voice as he read me enchanting stories.
I just wanted a fragment of his time and attention perhaps just a few moments or a gentle, affectionate gaze. But those desires remained unfulfilled.
Yet, in this very moment, everything I had longed for materialized. Within mere seconds, Howard Loskutov granted me the years of paternal love that had eluded me.
“You were my daughter then, and you remain so now. You’ll always be, Rebecca,” his words resonated, moving me to tears.
Sniffling, I closed my eyes, and Howard embraced me once more. Amidst my tears, I managed to murmur, “Thank you.”
“You were always destined to be an Loskutov, from the very outset,” he affirmed as our embrace loosened.
Behind me, Artemy’s presence radiated warmth, and I subtly leaned back. Our bodies melded, and his arms encircled me. He pressed a gentle kiss to my neck, and Howard observed with a smile, muttering something under his breath. “I’ll see you both downstairs for lunch.”
His departing gaze carried a radiant, heartfelt smile, and my own lips curved in response, my heart fluttering with unbridled happiness. Howard walked away, and I pivoted in Artemy’s embrace to face him.
“Thank you for making this happen. It feels like destiny, doesn’t it? Me finding my way into your car,” I shared.
He chuckled, his lips curving into a seductive smirk. “Thank goodness I parked where I did.”
Our laughter intertwined and transformed into a kiss, momentarily breaking apart when a swift kick made its presence known.
“Already playing the role of a cockblocker,” Artemy playfully complained, his gaze directed toward my protruding belly.
I sighed, tugging at his arm. “Time for lunch. She’s hungry, which makes me doubly famished.”