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Sven schooled a happy face while he brooded about how short the term of their union would be. As Annalise hiccupped from the champagne bubbles, Sven vowed to make her fall in love with him before the year was over.
You’re mine, Annalise.
Whatever it takes.
Annalise no longer believed in fairy tales after her dad passed away, but when she walked down the hallway between the dining hall and the living room, she couldn’t help feeling like Cinderella. She—a dirt-poor orphan suddenly became a princess, marrying a handsome and wealthy Prince Charming. Robby wouldn’t believe it if she told him what had happened today.
She wished she could tell him, but it wouldn’t be much use anyway. About four weeks ago, her little brother had slipped into a coma. Robby had complications with his cancer treatment. One morning, the doctor told her Robby had pneumonia. Later that day, he was declared brain damaged when his breathing was severely disrupted, depriving oxygen delivery to his brain. Yesterday, the doctor told her that her brother was classified as being in a permanent vegetative state. He likely would never regain consciousness. Then the hospital dropped the bomb: they would move him to a facility that took care of patients with his condition, a county hospice. It would cost too much money for the hospital to continue caring for Robby. And since his prognosis wasn’t good, a hospice was the best long-term alternative.
She had been too distraught, too emotionally wrecked to think straight. Juggling between long hours and piles of bills to be paid, she began to crumble, losing her fighting spirit. The doctors had given up on Robby months ago. By moving Robby to a hospice, Annalise felt that she would be giving up on him too, and she didn’t want that. So she struggled to keep him in the hospital.
Annalise stood before a bouquet of red roses. She had never seen roses that size. They were huge with dark green stems and leaves, supporting half-open crimson red petals. The smell was heavenly too. She lowered her head and breathed in the seductive aroma. Her worries and woes melted away. She was happy that she could keep Robby where he was and not have to send him to that death camp. Annalise had seen enough of county hospices to last a lifetime, and didn’t wish to step into one ever again. When her father was in the final stage of his illness, he spent eight months in there. The place was depressing. All of those sick people waiting for death to come and grant them mercy.
But now, she didn’t have to worry anymore. Robby would be well taken care of. She hadn’t given up hope of seeing Robby wake up and get better. She missed him. She missed chatting with her little brother. A real conversation, not the one-sided chat she always did when she visited him in the hospital.
“You like roses?” Sven’s voice reeled her back to reality.
“They’re pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you.”
Her heart skipped a beat from his compliment. She wondered if he was sincere.
Sven looked relaxed. He had ditched his tie and jacket. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up. A couple of upper buttons were undone, revealing his light tan skin. He looked so damn good-looking in his formal suit and even more handsome in casual a
ttire.
Is he for real? Am I dreaming?
She felt self-conscious standing next to him. Compared to him, she was shabby. She regretted not wearing her best outfit. The pink cotton dress she wore was her mother’s. Annalise liked the cut and fit. Very retro. Besides, vintage style had made a comeback lately.
Sven tugged her arm gently. “Follow me to the study. I have a few things to discuss with you.”
Like an obedient pup, she shadowed his heels. It became apparent that the apartment was bigger than she originally thought. No. It was ginormous. Like a mansion squeezed into a luxurious high-rise. She wondered if Sven had the whole story of the building to himself. They breezed past a French door that led them into an inner sanctum. Sven told her that this area was off limits to his staff, except for Sebastian. Housekeeping duties were performed at certain times of the day under his butler’s supervision. There were bedrooms, bathrooms, cozy nooks with plush sofas and a fireplace for lounging around, a private dining room, a full library, and his study. Annalise felt disoriented already. She would never find her way out if she were lost in this paneled labyrinth.
Sven walked to a door by the end of the hall and stopped to enter his passcode on the wall-mounted keypad. A soft electronic noise chirped, and the door clicked open. With a slight push, Sven entered his study. Again, Annalise was awed by the sight. She only saw rooms like this on TV shows. The walls were covered with exquisite mahogany paneling. The sconces looked authentically antique. There was a credenza built from exotic teakwood that was two shades darker than the tone of the room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves housed thousands of gold-gilded, leather-bound tomes. An expansive grand desk was the centerpiece of the study, paired with high-backed plush chairs. Annalise sat in one.
Sven settled behind his desk.
“Is this your mancave?” she asked. “Very nice.”
He smiled. “I guess it is.”
“I don’t see your TV though.”
“I don’t watch TV. Too much distraction. I prefer quiet reading.”
“Seriously? That’s a first.” Annalise tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “The guys at the diner always had their eyes glued on the screen. Football. Baseball. Golf. I thought men couldn’t live without TV. I guess rich people are different.”
“That’s not true. Each person has his or her own interests to pursue, and mine just happen to be slightly different from the mainstream taste.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“Read medical publications. My main interest is in genetics and molecular biology. I like to test my hypotheses in the lab and write essays. Of course, I always welcome constructive discussion with fellow scientists. I was particularly fond of your uncle. He was a brilliant man.”
Annalise rounded her eyes. Sven was a brainiac. Suddenly she realized the gaping chasm between them was becoming wider and wider. It made her uneasy and self-conscious.
“What do you do for fun, Anna?” Sven asked.
