by Stella Gray
I squared my shoulders, looking down at the lingerie in my hands. I could do this. It was going to be fine.
Stefan was waiting outside in the hallway for me. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes followed the curves of my body indicated that he liked the black dress on me. I could only hope that he liked what was underneath just as much.
I gripped the lingerie bag tightly and took the arm he offered me. My pulse jumped as he led me away from Michelle and back into the ballroom, where our guests were waiting with sparklers and confetti.
“Ready?” Stefan asked.
I wasn’t sure, but I nodded anyway.
Together, we ran through the line of people as they cheered and shouted their congratulations. By the time we got into the private elevator that would take us up to the bridal suite, we were both covered in confetti.
“What a day,” I said.
He only nodded.
I could feel tension between us, stretched tight. As scared as I was, I was eager to see him without his clothes on.
Apparently, I wouldn’t have to wait long.
The moment the elevator door opened into our private suite, Stefan shrugged off his tux jacket and began unbuttoning his cuffs and shirt. My knees went weak, and I sank onto the bed.
I was mesmerized. Part of me just wanted to stay and watch the show, but I remembered the lingerie and Michelle’s instructions.
“I’ll just be a moment,” I told him as I hurried into the bathroom.
Quickly, I undressed and maneuvered myself into the complicated outfit. Tugging out a mess of bobby pins and giving my hair a shake, I checked my appearance in the mirror.
The lingerie was…something.
It left nothing to the imagination, my pebbled nipples visible through the lace, every curve of my body accentuated by tight white straps. I was wrapped up like a present for Stefan to open.
My heartbeat sped up. This might be fun. It might be more than fun.
Feeling a little emboldened, I blew myself a kiss in the mirror.
Then I headed into the bedroom to seduce my husband.
He was already in bed, his bare chest and tight abs well-muscled and golden. A sheet tangled around his waist, obscuring the extent of his nudity.
He was also asleep.
Apparently he hadn’t been anxious in the elevator. He was just tired.
I dropped down on the edge of the bed, hoping the movement might wake him. It didn’t.
“Stefan?” I reached over and touched his shoulder, then slid my hand down to squeeze his bicep. “Stefan?” He was out cold.
All that build up, and for nothing. Didn’t he want me?
Apparently not enough to stay awake. Then again, it wouldn’t have been as exciting for him as for me. After all, he’d probably been with tons of women. And besides, it wasn’t like we were actually in love.
I went back to the bathroom and changed into my usual pajamas, a cotton camisole and shorts. Then I crawled into the bed. It was large enough that I would’ve had to roll over several times just to get near him. I left a wide swath of space between us and curled into a ball on my side.
This was a marriage of convenience. There was no reason to be upset.
But I couldn’t stop thinking I’d just made the worst mistake of my life.
Tori
Chapter 5
When I dragged my eyes open the next morning, Stefan was already dressed.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he told me coolly. “But our private jet is waiting. They’ll serve us breakfast on board. Hope you slept well.”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll be quick,” I said, stumbling to my feet.
We were leaving for our honeymoon, so I took a lightning-quick rinse in the shower, changed into leggings and a silk blouse, and then repacked the few belongings I’d used.
I hadn’t actually slept much at all. Instead I’d tossed and turned all night, wondering if I had done something wrong, second guessing myself and worrying that I should have tried harder to wake Stefan up when I was wearing the lingerie.
The garment in question was currently shoved at the bottom of my carry-on bag. Surely I’d have another chance to wear it in Vienna. At this point, I was less scared about the experience and more eager to just have it over with.
The private jet was just as luxurious as the hotel had been, with spacious leather seats and fabric curtains in the windows, but Stefan barely seemed to notice as he handed the flight crew our bags and led me to the back of the plane where a meal was laid out for us.
There was actual silverware on the tablecloth and the food rivaled some of my father’s favorite places in Springfield. We ate flaky croissants, honeydew melon and cantaloupe, herbed omelets and smoked salmon. There was even a full wine list.
I tried to make conversation a few times, but if I was hoping to engage him with my repartee, I was sorely disappointed. I could barely get a monosyllabic response to my questions.
I couldn’t understand where I’d gone wrong. Was he angry about last night? He was the one who’d fallen asleep! Even now, as we finished eating and cleaned our hands with hot towels the flight attendant had brought, his gaze remained elsewhere—glued to his phone.
“Stefan?”
“Hmm.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on with your new job and everything, but I—did I do something wrong? I feel like we’ve barely said a word to each other since yesterday.”
He looked up, but the usual warmth I felt under his gaze was nowhere to be found.
“You’re fine,” he said. “I have work to do.” And then he got up and went back to his seat.
As I sat there by myself, I couldn’t help feeling let down. This was our honeymoon. The first day of the rest of our lives together, and we were heading off on a tour of Europe to some of the most romantic places in the world. I understood that our marriage was more of a business deal than a love match, but why had Stefan even bothered taking this trip if he had zero interest in paying attention to me?
I had to remind myself that this was part of the gig. That all I had to do was be polite and smile at my husband when he took a moment to glance up from his work. I had seen Michelle do this exact thing for most of my life. That was just the price you paid when you married someone important.
And maybe he was just distracted with something big at KZM. Maybe he was even trying to get everything out of the way now, so he could focus on the honeymoon when we arrived.
It was a nine hour flight, non-stop, but since I hadn’t slept the night before I took advantage of the fold-out bed that the crew had set up in the back of the plane. The sheets were nicer than the ones I had back home. I crawled under the covers, immediately exhausted. When a crew member woke me up, we were making our final descent into Vienna. Stefan’s side of the bed had remained untouched.
As we stepped off the plane, we were greeted by a smiling woman in a navy skirt suit and a red and white striped neck scarf, to match the Austrian flag.
“Welcome to Vienna, Mr. and Mrs. Zoric. I have your itinerary all planned out.”
We were going on a guided tour of the city, and I was thrilled. All the traveling I’d ever done had been with my father, accompanying him for work, mostly in the U.S. We’d been to Europe once, but most of the trip had been spent at a conference and I hadn’t been allowed to explore by myself, so I mostly saw the inside of our hotel.
This was my chance to see the world.
“The ferris wheel you see is the Riesenrad, which means ‘giant wheel.’ It stands at just under sixty-five meters tall and was constructed in 1897…”
As I oohed and ahhed over each of the sights described by our host in her heavily-accented English, Stefan hunched over his laptop in the backseat of the private car. No doubt he had been to Vienna dozens of times and would rather be left alone to work, so I was touched that he was taking this tour with me. Luckily, he was even handsome when he scowled.
When we passed the Karlskirche church, a baroque confection o
f creamy pillars with a central dome the color of a robin’s egg, I said, “The dome is incredible. I’ve never seen that shade of turquoise.”
“It’s verdigris on the copper,” Stefan said, without even looking up.
“Well, I love it,” I said. “It’s so vivid.”
No matter which way the car turned, we were surrounded by gorgeous historic architecture. There was so much to take in, but I found it all wonderfully overwhelming. With each attraction we passed, I couldn’t help myself from exclaiming excitedly to Stefan.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked him as the tour guide drove us past the Hofberg, Vienna’s most famous palace.
“Mmhmm,” Stefan murmured, his focus directed on an email he’d been typing. “You can take a tour of it later on the trip, if you’d like.”
“Would you like that?” I asked him, hoping to engage him in conversation.
“I’ve already seen it,” he told me.
Of course. “Is there anything here you haven’t seen? Maybe we could go there.”
“I’ve seen everything here,” he said, shrugging.
That thought made me sad. “Are you really so jaded that you can’t see how amazing this place is? There’s so much beauty all around us. What’s your favorite spot in the city?”
“I don’t have one.” He finally looked up at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. “Please, see the sights. Don’t let me stop you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. No doubt he was purposely deflecting all attempts at conversation in the hope that I’d leave him alone to work. Unfortunately, he had married a Lindsey. We didn’t know how to quit.
Our tour continued, the car continuing along the streets of Vienna while I did my best to take it all in. One particular building, however, took my breath away.
“What is that place?” I asked our tour guide.
It was warm-colored stone, in an opulent Neo-Renaissance style, with statues of men on winged horses at the roof’s corners. A double row of open arches lined the front façade, and although the building was ornately detailed, it had a satisfying symmetry that spoke to me.
“Ah, the Vienna Staatsoper. The Opera House,” she said with a reverence that matched mine. “It is wunderschön, yes?”
Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. The Vienna Opera House was the grandest thing I’d seen all day. I could only imagine how it looked on the inside.
“Do they give tours?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” our tour guide said. “Every day from ten until four pm. I can drop you off?”
Stefan stopped her with a hand. “We don’t have time,” he said.
I slumped in my seat.
“Besides, the best way to see the Opera House is to go to an opera,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite things to do in Vienna.”
“So you do have favorites.” He didn’t smile. “Well, I’d love to see a Viennese opera. I’ve never even seen one at home.”
“Maybe on our next trip,” he said, his attention returning to his laptop. “We don’t have room in the schedule this time.”
“Do you have a favorite opera?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“What about a favorite movie?” I tried again.
He glanced up. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”
I gave him a shrug, feeling passive aggressive. He started back up with the typing.
“Favorite band—come on. Everybody loves music. Is it Meat Loaf?”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, but I didn’t miss the slight curve at the corner of his mouth. I knew I was annoying him, but he was also a little amused. I could get him to crack.
“Favorite color?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You must have a favorite color to wear, at least. What’s your preferred color of underwear?” I asked.
He was still looking at his phone, but his thumb stilled. Just for a moment. I had his attention.
“On me or someone else?” he asked.
“Either.” Thank god. We were getting somewhere.
“White,” he said. “Lace.”
My pulse kicked. Had he seen me last night?
“What about on you?” I asked, my mouth dry.
“I don’t wear them,” he said.
My gaze darted to his lap. When I looked up, he was watching me, his green eyes intense.
“Be careful, curious little cat,” he said, his voice purring the warning.
He was making me hot, but I had to focus. I was finally getting information out of him, and I wasn’t going to lose my momentum.
“Favorite song?” I prodded. “I know it’s not really Meat Loaf. Is it?”
Stefan shot me a look, and I gave him an innocent smile.
“What will it take for you to stop asking questions?” he demanded.
“Answering them would help,” I offered. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“Give me thirty minutes of silence, okay?”
“Only if,” I said, my brain whirling, “you take me for a ride on the ferris wheel.”
He stared at me. “You want to ride the ferris wheel?”
“We’re in Vienna.” I gestured outside. “It’s a famous landmark. Isn’t that what people do here?”
“That’s what tourists do here,” he said. “And children.”
“Well,” I said, crossing my arms, “I’m a tourist and I’m excited to be here. I’ll stop asking questions for half an hour if we can ride the ferris wheel. Is it a deal?”
I held out my hand.
Finally, he smiled. “It’s a deal,” he said. “You are extremely persistent, Tori Lindsey.”
With amusement dancing in his eyes, we shook. Heat spread through me, eclipsing any lingering fears I had about our connection. I wanted so much more from him than a ride on the ferris wheel, but this would have to be enough. For now.
Tori
Chapter 6
“Wow,” I breathed, taking in the view.
“Impressive enough for you?” Stefan asked.
We’d reached the apex of the wheel, Prater Park and the whole city spread below. Everything in Vienna was a feast for the eyes, with so much lush greenery and incredible, castle-like architecture surrounding us that I felt as if I’d woken up in a fairytale.
I smiled, shaking my head. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I mean I’ve been to the Skydeck at Willis Tower, but seeing Chicago from a skyscraper is nothing compared to this.”
The ferris wheel cars, painted red with white trim, were huge—instead of small pods of single benches, they were spacious cabins with windows looking out on every side, big enough to hold several tables and chairs. Our car could have fit at least two dozen people, but Stefan had paid for us to take the ride alone. He’d even put his phone down to take in the sights with me.
The cabin gave a slight lurch, and I gasped in surprise, the two of us rocking back and forth above the city. That’s when his hand found mine and gave a reassuring squeeze.
My pulse leapt into my throat.
But before I could turn to him, he released my hand to pull out his phone, his focus back to his work life as if the tender moment had never occurred.
Even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it, I knew that gesture would stay with me for the rest of the day. The five seconds he took to let his guard down was all the confirmation I needed that there was still something real between us. My fingers still tingled with the pressure of his hand. It boded well for the night we’d be spending together.
After a long day of sightseeing, during which I spent more time talking to our tour guide than with my husband, we returned to the hotel. The whole excursion had felt more like a business trip on wheels than a honeymoon, but I’d still loved every minute of Vienna.
Now that I was finally stepping out of the car and craning my neck to look up at our hotel, I was just as awed. It was like a palace—everything accented in gold.
“
I feel like we’re staying in a castle,” I said.
Stefan nodded. “I thought you’d like this better than something stark and modern.”
I smiled at him. “I love it. Thank you.”
All the details inside were ornate and luxurious, from the lush patterned carpet to the heavy embroidered drapes that were pulled back from the windows with silken cords. The place felt historic and expensive. There was no doubt in my mind that it was both.
We got to the suite and I walked through each room with my jaw hanging open. There was a sitting room, a living room, a small office and of course a huge bedroom, complete with a carved four-poster bed and inlaid antique furniture.
“This room is straight out of a Jane Austen novel!” I yelled over my shoulder at Stefan.
Even from across the room, I could see that the bed was pure luxury, a high mattress draped in thick down bedding and piled with fluffy pillows. Unable to help myself, I ran over and jumped onto it, sinking down into the cool softness with a satisfied sigh.
I heard a throat clearing from the doorway and I sat up with a jolt.
“We’re going out for dinner,” Stefan told me.
“Come lie down for a minute,” I said as I patted the mattress next to me. “You’ve been working all day.”
It was the first time we had been truly alone since leaving the honeymoon suite in Chicago. My skin was tight with anticipation, but Stefan didn’t move an inch.
“We leave in an hour,” he said. “Wear something nice.”
Then he disappeared to another section of our enormous suite, his ubiquitous laptop tucked under his arm. I was starting to really, really hate that laptop.
“Going out” probably meant a date, didn’t it? Dates were for couples to connect. Dates led to sex. He’d take me out tonight and when we returned to our hotel, refreshed and completely finished with his workday, he’d have more energy for me. And more desire. Unless…
Was our chemistry completely one-sided? Our first kiss had felt so real, so intense. Had it only seemed that way to me because of my lack of experience?