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Alora
Irolledoverin the bed, a yawn escaping my lips. Opening my eyes, I noticed he wasn't in the bed next to me. I sat up and looked around the room, I was alone. I glanced at the clock, ten am. I slept in late. I hopped up and ran myself a shower, washing off and getting dressed for the day. I walked out into the hallway with the mug from last night and saw Arturo walking toward me from the other end of the hallway.
“Have you seen Luka this morning?”
He nodded, “in his studio.”
“And where is that?”
“Stairs and the end of the hallway.”
I looked down the hallway seeing the staircase I hadn't noticed before, realizing there was a lot of this house I hadn't seen. Part of me wanted to go and see exactly what his studio was like. But another part of me didn't want to see him, worried he would affect me like he had been since we got here. I told him he was an asshole, and I was too tired to fight him. But the truth was, I loved the feeling of being in his arms. How could this man I barely knew have such an effect on me? I knew he liked to draw, and fight. I knew his name, but other than that what did I know about him? Nothing. We were strangers, husband, and wife, but strangers, nonetheless. And here I stood behind enemy lines, wanting to be with the enemy.
“Alora!”
I shook my head, “sorry what?”
He looked at me, “you can go up there.”
“Oh, no,” I looked at the mug in my hands, “I need to return this to the kitchen.”
He grabbed the mug from my hands, “I can return it for you.”
I nodded, walked down the hallway, and made my way up the stairs. A black metal spiral staircase led up to a small landing, just one wooden door at the top, I knocked twice.
“Did you forget something,” Luka looked at me and smiled, “Alora,” he leaned in, kissing my cheek. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
I nodded, “good.”
He stepped to the side letting me in, I glanced around the small room. Two walls were covered in windows from a bench seat to the ceiling. The bench seat and windows stretched from one wall and cornered around the other. A big mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room. Papers were strewn out across it. Drawings, pencils, and other utensils were scattered amongst them. The other two walls were covered in drawings. Some people, I noticed one of Voralie and Arturo, and some landscapes and abstract shapes. A small fridge sat against the wall next to a couch, chair, and coffee table. It was bright, and cheery in this room. I couldn't help the smile, a small laugh escaped from my lips as I walked up looking over his drawings hung from the wall.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” I turned and looked over at him, “it’s just this room, this feels like you.”
He smiled, his hand going into the pockets of his jeans, “yeah this is my space. This is probably where I feel the most comfortable in the world.”
“You are good,” I ran my fingers down the one of Voralie, “this one is beautiful.”
“Yeah, I drew that when I was sixteen, one day while we were out having lunch in the garden. Stefano was away on business, mom is always in a much better mood when he isn’t around.”
I nodded and walked forward, looking down at his desk, at the picture he must have been working on today, “Is that me?”
“Yes,” he picked it up and handed it to me. “You looked so beautiful and peaceful when I got up this morning. I couldn't get it out of my head, so I drew it.”
I looked down at the picture, my hair hanging across my shoulder to the bed. The blanket barely covered my butt, my back showing. It was beautiful. I looked up at him, feeling my chest tighten. “It is really good.”
He smiled, “thanks. I wish we could just hang out here today, but I am afraid we have to get ready to go. Three more men were killed by Wrath last night, and we are going to head over and see what we can find out.”
I looked at him and nodded, shaking my head. “Uh, yeah ok. I will let you get changed. I’m going to grab something to eat.”
He grabbed my arm, spinning me around to him. He reached up, grabbing the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek, “are you ok?”
I closed my eyes, letting myself soak in the feeling of his hand on my cheek. Of the love and care, he was showing me. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, “you have to stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“This,” I reached up grabbing his hand, “this marriage is only temporary, I told you not to develop feelings for me.” I pointed to the picture on his desk. “Which you clearly are.”
