Veronica
I followed him down the hall to the third door. He opened it, and I stepped inside. My suitcases were already arranged on luggage holders, which were the only modern things in the large room with its king-size bed, draped by curtains hanging from the ceiling with high, intricately carved wooden head and footboards. Blues were the theme here, and the curtains at the picturesque windows matched that of the headboard. The windows stood open, and I realized that for as warm as it was outside, the house itself felt reasonably cool, even if it had a slightly musty smell. Stefan seemed to notice it the same moment I did.
“The room hasn’t been used in a while.”
“It’s beautiful.” I turned in a circle, wondering how old the furnishings were.
“Bathroom is here.”
I followed him to an adjoining room, not very large but big enough to house a bathtub separate of the shower. White marble veined with gold covered floor, ceiling, and walls, although the fixtures looked quite old. He turned the tap.
“Completely updated. You should be very comfortable.”
“Once we’re… Um… Never mind.”
“What?”
I hesitated, cleared my throat, and asked the question. “Will I keep this room once we’re married?”
“Does the idea of sharing my bed repel you?”
“I… you said…”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not used to having to force my women.”
I guessed that meant a yes, I’d keep this room. But I also felt like a jerk.
“I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t take too long.” He walked out of the bathroom. “We’ll have lunch out back. Can you find your way?”
“I think I can manage one set of stairs and an exit.”
“I guess that private-school education will be of some use after all.”
And I was the one who felt like a jerk?
He left me alone, and I went to the window to watch Maria and two women setting up a large banquet that I swear would have fed a dozen but was set for only two. Stefan’s dark head appeared, and I watched as the two girls helping Maria almost curtsied to him. He shook their hands, and their laughter resonated up to my room. For some reason, a feeling of something close to jealousy tightened my stomach.
He looked up a moment later, surprising me. I stepped away, embarrassed, shook my head, and opened one of my suitcases to get something to change into before heading down for lunch. I needed a shower and a nap, obviously. Exhaustion was making me think and feel things there was no way I should think or feel.
The travel between time zones made sleep difficult, so when I woke at close to three a. m. the next morning, I wasn’t surprised. After tossing and turning for half an hour, I gave up. I was wide-awake. Throwing the covers back, I got up and went to one of the windows, pushing the curtain away to look out at the rich, velvety midnight-blue sky dotted with sparkling stars. More than I saw at home, more than at school. It was a clear night, and I felt like I could see forever. The few clouds that floated past shone silver in the moonlight.
The gardens were quiet, and I saw once again the shadows of the ruined vineyard. It seemed impossible that Stefan’s father would burn it down. And more impossible that he would do it to repay my grandfather for a debt.
I didn’t know much about the process of growing grapes or making wine. It seemed strange now, considering that was where my family’s money came from. I wondered if he could replant, revive the land. It seemed like a waste and a shame to leave it dead, like it was.
Although it fit, in a way. Part of Stefan was dead too.
I shuddered and dropped the curtain, hugging my arms to myself. I picked up a sweater I’d hung on the back of a chair, put it over my shoulders, and slipped into a pair of flip-flops. I’d go to the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea.
I glanced both right and left but the hallway was quiet. I wondered which room was Stefan’s as I made my way down the stairs and around the living room to the kitchen, which had been expanded and, judging from the wall, looked to be about twice the size of the original. I pushed the door open and walked inside, switching on the light. It seemed almost eerie now with only me there, but I set that thought aside and found the kettle, filled it with water, and set it on one of the six burners. I then set about looking for mugs and tea bags. That was when an outer light came on, startling me. A motion detector? The door opened before my imagination could carry me off, and Stefan walked inside. He stopped short at the door, just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
He looked different, his hair messy, his face relaxed, the usual cockiness gone. He wore jeans and a tight-fitting V-neck white T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and arms, giving me a glimpse of cut muscle beneath.
I swallowed.
He stomped dirt off his shoes and took them off, then stepped inside and closed the door.
The tea kettle whistled, but all I could do was stare at him. He raised his eyebrows, and when I didn’t move, he came toward me, stepping a little too close, closer than he needed to. His chest touched mine, and I picked up the faint scent of sweat and grease before stepping backward as far as the counter allowed.
He grinned.
I knew he liked it, liked making me feel uncomfortable. He seemed to take some sick pleasure from it. It was probably more that he liked messing with me because I made it so damn easy.
He switched off the burner.
I cleared my throat, blinking away. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d make some tea.”
He nodded and reached over my head, one corner of his mouth curling upward as I shrunk away. Being this close to him, it felt strange.