by Stella Gray
But I was immediately disappointed. Instead of being met at the gate by a tour guide and translator, it was clear that the person meeting us worked for Stefan and had been instructed to speak only to him. I was summarily ignored by everyone, unless I asked a direct question. But even if I did, they looked at Stefan first, waiting for his nod of approval before answering.
Our luggage was loaded into the town car, including the new suitcases purchased in Vienna to store all the clothing I’d bought. Stefan hadn’t said a word about my purchases. Was he so wealthy that it hadn’t even phased him, or was the silent treatment just punishment for that as well as last night’s attempt at flirtation and jealousy?
I thought we’d head to the hotel to drop our things off, but when we got there, instead of going up to our suite, Stefan and I were led to a conference room. I was confused and the moment we were left alone, I turned to Stefan.
“Aren’t we going out?” I asked. “Seeing the city? If you have a meeting, I can go myself.”
“After the stunt you pulled with that French asshole?” he practically sneered at me. “I don’t think so.”
“Well…so when can we go?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Given your behavior last night, I don’t think you deserve a tour of the city. We’re staying here. I have things to do.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You’re going to exile me to the hotel again?” Frustration was bubbling inside of me.
Another day of hotel shopping and using the spa would probably be some other girl’s dream, but I’d had enough of it the day before. Even though I was feeling tense enough for a massage right now, what I really wanted was to explore. To see the city. To speak the language.
“Let’s drop the charade, shall we?” Stefan crossed his arms as he faced me. “We both know what this is.” He gestured between us. “I tried to be nice, give you a little taste of adventure and romance, but what did I get in return? You throwing yourself at a total stranger. How was that supposed to make me feel?”
I stared. He felt like the injured party? How was that even possible? He was the one sleeping with other women on our honeymoon. “How…did you feel?” I asked.
“I didn’t feel anything,” he said gruffly. He was clearly lying.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I just wanted to see the city, and we were talking about all the sights, and he offered to take me out.”
Stefan’s expression hardened. “He was going to take you somewhere.”
“It doesn’t matter, because I told him I wouldn’t go!”
“I had already showed you the city,” he countered.
“From the inside of a town car?” I shot back. “You know that’s not the same.”
He shrugged. “I’m a busy man. This trip wasn’t just for you. It was for me and my work as well. I thought you understood my priorities when we entered into this agreement.”
He made it sound so cold, and made me sound like a mercenary who just wanted to spend all his time and money. Is that how he truly thought of me? Was this why he was acting the way he was?
I couldn’t help thinking back to our kiss. That first one, the night we became engaged—when we were still virtually strangers. He hadn’t seemed so aloof then. He’d seemed interested. Attracted. Excited by the idea of marrying me. Like it was a pact we were making together, each of us getting something out of it. Was every bit of it a lie?
I could still remember his lips, hot and firm against mine. The way he had held me in his arms. The way he had touched me. I wanted that Stefan. Wanted to know how to get that version of him to come on this honeymoon with me, instead of this cold, distant man.
But I also understood what he was saying. This was his job, the whole reason he had agreed to marry me in the first place. To gain control over his father’s company. To gain control over his life. That’s what I had wanted as well, hadn’t I? Control over my life.
I had thought Stefan and I were on the same page about that. I had thought he could see that we were the same. That we were both ambitious and driven, that I wasn’t some gold digger who just wanted to max out his AmEx and go on extravagant vacations.
But it was clear after what had happened in Vienna that he didn’t trust me. And I didn’t trust him. Even though he was angry at me, that still didn’t explain his mysterious brunette friend and why he had disappeared with her somewhere in the hotel while we were on our honeymoon. It also didn’t explain why he had gotten mad at me for flirting with a stranger.
I was so confused.
“I understand about work,” I said carefully, “but do you really want me to stay in the hotel all day?” My voice sounded small and tired, even to me. “Like in Vienna?”
“I think we both know that leaving you to your own devices is a bad idea,” Stefan said, his arms still crossed.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but he continued before I could say anything.
“I’ve decided it’s best for both of us—and my checkbook—if you just stay here.”
I looked down at the long, polished table and rolling leather chairs. Where exactly did he expect me to be? Was I going to just be sitting in the corner during all of his meetings?
As if he could read my mind, he led me to the door and pointed to a sitting area down the hall from the conference room. There were chairs and a sofa, potted plants and a water cooler.
“I trust you’ll find a way to make yourself comfortable,” he said, before pushing me into the hall and shutting the door.
I stared at the closed door for a moment, awash in indignation at the way he’d treated me, but also trying to figure out a way I could turn this situation around. There had to be a way to get back on his good side. I wanted to explore Budapest. Wanted to see the city. Not just that, either. I wanted to see it with him. Sure, I could probably make a dramatic escape, book a ticket on a tour bus, and go see all the sights by myself. But it wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t what I wanted, and it wouldn’t make me feel better.
As I took a seat outside the conference room, my temper settled a bit and I realized that maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I had wanted to get to know Stefan better. What better way to do that than to observe him in his element, working and pursuing his goals?
Maybe it would be the key to understanding him. To connecting with him.
Besides, I had an e-reader full of books. It wouldn’t hurt to behave myself after everything that had happened in Vienna. Clearly, we were just having trouble communicating with each other. That had to be common in any new relationship. Maybe this would help and the rest of our honeymoon would be better. We’d find a way to mix business with pleasure. If not the kind of pleasure I had in mind, then maybe the kind of pleasure we’d experienced at the beginning of our Vienna trip.
I tried to get comfortable in my chair and pulled up another one of the academic texts I’d downloaded—it explored the historical roots of the Hungarian language and I hoped that reading it would help prepare me for the kinds of books I’d be studying in my upcoming college courses.
Every few minutes, someone would cross in front of me and I’d look up to see them heading toward the far end of the hall, turning a corner and disappearing from view. It kept happening, and after a while I started paying a little more attention to who was walking by me.
They were women. All of them. All as beautiful and statuesque as the brunette in Vienna had been, wearing a variety of hair colors and figure-flattering (and revealing) outfits. It was almost comical, this parade of gorgeous women heading down the hall.
Unable to resist, I followed one of them around the corner.
There was another waiting area over there, but it was bigger—with a lot more chairs, almost all of them occupied by these gorgeous, leggy women—and had a huge window pouring light all over their perfect bodies. They all stared at me when I walked over, their gaze indicating that they weren’t sure why I was there. I clearly didn’t look like any of them, a
nd they seemed confused that I was in their midst.
I spotted a reception desk and a bored-looking man sitting behind it. I walked over to him, flashing him my most charming ‘senator’s daughter’ smile. He barely reacted, his eyes sweeping up and down my body. His expression grew wary. He also didn’t think I belonged.
“What is this?” I asked.
He frowned at me, and then said something in Hungarian that I didn’t understand.
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“No English,” he replied, his accent thick.
We both stared at each other for a moment, before he sighed and handed over a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached. The whole thing was also in Hungarian, but I recognized the logo at the top of the paper. KZ Modeling. From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out what the rest of it said. It was a form covered with evenly spaced text and blank lines, asking for personal information—name, age, measurements, references—the kind of thing that would be necessary for a modeling casting call.
Was that what Stefan had been doing with that brunette in the hotel in Vienna? Had he been meeting with her to discuss a modeling contract? The realization thundered down, reframing the context of his entire day. No wonder he’d been so pissed to find me flirting up some French guy in the hotel bar, totally drunk and having stood him up for dinner. He’d been working all day, just like he had told me, and I’d repaid him with my childish behavior. I’d have to make it up to him. I wasn’t sure how, but I would.
Although I felt better that Stefan hadn’t been cheating on me, I was still frustrated that our entire honeymoon was actually a business trip in disguise. Why hadn’t Stefan just told me that? He had said we were dropping the pretenses, but he was the one who had made this seem like it could be a romantic trip with some occasional stops for business. In reality, it was the opposite. I didn’t understand why he had even brought me along in the first place. I wasn’t going to spend every day of this vacation sitting in a chair outside his meetings, staring at the wall like I was a child being punished. I wanted to see the sights, explore, take advantage of these beautiful new places. I was dying to experience all that my new life had to offer.
I looked back at the models, and then walked over to the window. The view was incredible—the river, the spires of the Parliament building overlooking it, huge red basilica domes and avenues of lush trees. It was calling to me with its siren song.
I had to get the hell out of there.
Tori
Chapter 13
Why not just leave?
I could walk out of the hotel, grab a taxi and take my own tour of the city. That’s what I was here for, wasn’t it? But I knew that if I disappeared like that, Stefan’s trust in me would be irreversibly shattered. And my ultimate goal wasn’t to put a wedge even further between us, it was to figure this relationship out. If I knew what he wanted, what he needed…maybe I could figure out how I fit into all of it.
Another leggy model type walked past me. I felt something like panic and anxiety rise up inside of me. Even if he hadn’t been cheating on me yesterday, who was to say he wouldn’t do it now? Or in the future? Like my father had said, Stefan could have his pick of any woman wanted. We might have been married on paper, but it was clear that he considered it to go no further. If I couldn’t convince him to take our relationship to the next level, did I really expect him to remain celibate, just to keep up appearances?
To calm myself, I let my brain drop into its usual defense mechanism. I thought about words. Words had meaning. They had history. You could break them down and understand them. I liked that.
Model. It was a wonderful word that could be applied to so many things. Not just models like the women walking back and forth, but in the more scientific sense—it represented an object or behavior or system that aided understanding. In that case, Stefan was my model. He was something I wanted to understand. Wanted to know.
Taking out my phone, I shot him a quick text with my request.
Still a little tired from the flight. Would it be okay to go up to our room and lie down?
Voila. It was honest, polite, and asked his permission to leave my post. Hopefully he would see it for what it was: an olive branch. A way to bridge the gap that was rapidly growing between us. A gap I didn’t want growing any further.
My palms were sweating as I awaited a reply.
My phone vibrated in my hand as his response came through.
Go.
That was it. One word. Was he too caught up in there to say more? Or was he still pissed?
I headed up to our room, tired and confused.
As I pushed the heavy door open, I saw a feast for the eyes. The suite was just as gorgeous as the one we’d stayed at in Vienna, though it had a completely different feel. This hotel, though ornate and historic on the outside, had a sleek, contemporary vibe inside. I stepped into the room, soaking in the calm, minimal design.
Everything was sharp clean lines and white linens. An ivory comforter and snowy white pillows covered the massive bed in the center of the room, looking just like a cloud. The carpet was plush and I kicked off my shoes to wiggle my feet in the thick pile, so soft against my aching soles. Gold geometric patterns were embossed on the wallpaper, gleaming in the light that flooded from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Peering through the gauzy curtains, I found a balcony with cushioned chairs and a wrought iron table. I stepped out, taking in the view of the city. It was incredible, even prettier from here than from the window up on the business floor. Being able to observe it like this from the private balcony of our hotel was more than I had ever imagined.
All of this, all the luxury and excess, was something I’d never really experienced before. I’d been lucky to never want for anything, but there was a difference between my comfortable life in Springfield and the extravagant world that Stefan inhabited. My father had a driver—but Stefan flew exclusively by private jet. It wasn’t even the same ballpark.
And I wanted to be a part of his world. Not because I wanted his money or his connections, either. But I craved the experiences those things could provide. Adventure. Exploration. Excitement. That was something I could get used to.
I didn’t want to feel like I was constantly battling Stefan to get those things, though. I wanted us to enjoy it together. To find adventure together. I wanted to be the wife he dreamed of and fantasized about. If only he’d let me.
A breeze teased my hair away from my face and I closed my eyes, wishing that things were better. That they were like they had been at the opera, with Stefan holding my hand. I craved his attention. His affection. Beyond wanting sex, I had emotional needs, and getting them met was vital to me. How could I get him to want that too?
I imagined us out here together. It was the perfect place to have coffee in the morning, or champagne in the evening. It would be such a dream to wake up and share a quiet morning with Stefan, taking in the gorgeous view of Budapest as we drank coffee and ate pastries before starting our day. Or unwinding in the evening, with chocolate covered strawberries and cocktails. The hotel was unbelievably romantic and it hurt to know that it was just a façade. That we weren’t staying there because Stefan had hoped to spend a romantic honeymoon with me, but so he could work in the executive offices available on the upper floors. And keep a close eye on me. The whole thing felt even more depressing in the face of all this beauty and romance.
My suitcases were already stacked neatly on one side of the room. I felt a twinge of guilt when I noticed how much larger my pile was compared to Stefan’s modest set of matched luggage. He’d brought a few custom-made suits and enough shirts to last a week, but thanks to hotel dry cleaning he hadn’t had to bring much else.
Maybe I shouldn’t have bought all those clothes in Vienna.
There was a settee at the foot of the bed, and I sat down there, wiggling my toes in the thick carpet. It soothed me a little bit.
The room was quiet and cool, exactly what I needed. I had
a chance to gather my thoughts, to make a plan. But first, I needed to talk to someone who knew exactly what I was going through.
Michelle picked up on the second ring.
“Tori the explorer,” she teased, an old nickname from my childhood. “How is Budapest?”
No doubt both she and my father had received copies of our travel itinerary. There was something comforting in that. Even though I was married and technically not their responsibility anymore, my parents were still looking out for me. I was still their daughter.
“It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully. “Mostly I’ve only had time to see it from the window of a taxi, but there are pretty old churches everywhere. I saw shop windows full of hand embroidered tablecloths and doilies, and this gorgeous cut crystal they make here in every color of the rainbow.”
“How’s the food?” she asked.
“We just got here, so I haven’t had a chance to find out yet,” I said, purposely leaving out the part about my epic hangover that was still lingering. “But I read about these rolled up meringue pastries filled with oranges that I’m dying to try. I know this city is going to be really special.”
“Better than Vienna?”
I could hear the genuine eagerness in her voice. My father’s work hadn’t taken him out of the country often, and for all of Michelle’s homegrown southern roots, I knew she had an adventurous spirit and longed to see the world.
“Vienna was magic,” I sighed. “We went to the Opera House. It was like a palace. The singers had amazing voices. Every single person in the audience was enthralled. It was wonderful.”
It was nice that I didn’t have to lie about that. I held on to that memory, holding it up as an example of how things could be. Of how I wanted them to be.