They were back to their conversation before I even left the table.
I took my time in the bathroom, touching up my lips and re-pinning my hair. I doubted that either of them would notice how long I was gone, and I wasn’t in a hurry to hear more executive language. At least I had the opera to look forward to and, last I checked, we only had two tickets, not three.
But, threading my way across the room, I immediately noticed a change in Stefan’s demeanor. Before, he was relaxed and confident, his hands resting on the table. Now he was leaning forward, his hands tightened into fists, his expression stormy.
“—all the funds and resources I’ve given you, you’ve still failed.” His voice was sharp.
Marco held up his hands. “We’ve been all over the continent and into the Middle East, chased down any hint of a rumor,” he was saying. “We’ve followed every lead, but—”
“You will find her,” Stefan said, his voice steely and dangerous.
Marco leaned back, and then noticed me. A fake smile immediately spread across his face.
“Victoria!” he said, like my name was his life raft. He jumped to his feet.
Stefan rose as well, a scowl still darkening his features.
“Grab your coat. The opera will be starting soon.”
* * *
The Opera Housewas just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. Although I’d spent the car ride trying to find out what had happened with Marco, Stefan had only blown me off. I wasn’t going to just let it go, but for the moment I was able to forget how distant he was acting, my attention completely focused on the breathtaking architecture. It reminded me of a church with its ornate arches, elaborate balustrades, and a grand staircase carpeted in spring green.
Stefan had gotten us seats in a private balcony overlooking the stage. All of it was so breathtakingly romantic that when the lights went down and the music started, I reached for his hand.
He returned my grip and we held hands through the first aria before he gently released me. I didn’t mind—by that point, I was so spellbound by the performance, I hardly noticed. Judging by Stefan’s demeanor, he was just as riveted as I was. Gazing down at the stage, he was the embodiment of Prince Charming, and I allowed myself to imagine that he really was. When the opera finally ended, I couldn’t believe it was already over. I’d been completely swept away.
We returned to the hotel late.
Between the day of sightseeing, the jetlag, the rich, multi-course dinner and the Opera House, I was exhausted. But not exhausted enough to forget what had happened in the shower earlier, or how Stefan’s eyes had burned into me. I had a plan.
“Can you help me with this?” I asked when we were alone in our bedroom, turning my back to him and gesturing toward the clasp of the necklace.
I could have easily removed it myself, but I wanted his hands on me.
He did as I requested, his fingers brushing against the soft skin at the nape of my neck, just like they had earlier. I realized it had to be one of his hot spots, and I suppressed a smile. I was learning his tells.
I carefully put the necklace back in its box, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric against my fingertips.
“I’ll be right back,” I told him, dropping my voice to a more sultry register.
I had left my wedding night lingerie in the bathroom before we left, and I hurried to get it on, pulling the bobby pins out of my hair as I did. It tumbled down to my shoulders in pale waves and I stood in front of the mirror to adjust myself as much as I could within the confines of the ungodly array of tiny hooks and ribbon laces.
Taking a deep breath, I headed back to the bedroom, tilting my head and arching my back against the doorjamb in what I hoped was a seductive pose.
Stefan was on his phone.
“Are you ready?” I asked, my voice more wobbly than I would have liked, but at least I got the question out without stumbling over my words.
Stefan didn’t even look up.
“I have to go out,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t wait up.”
He left.
I climbed onto the bed, completely stunned, not believing what had just happened. Again. This was our honeymoon and he was goingout? Was this a game? Did he get off on humiliating me? I knew I turned him on. So why was he avoiding me? Was it something to do with the person he and Marco had been arguing about at dinner? The “her” I wasn’t supposed to have heard them discussing? He’d been more passionate during that small snippet of conversation than during any exchange he’d had with me.
Who was my husband looking for?
And what would happen to me when he found her?
