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The same way I was waiting for her to ask me about my father, I’ve been waiting for her to ask me about Giselle too. I know she’s been dying to know who she is, what happened, and why the fuck I have so many sculptures of her.
“What did you say?”
“I told her she died, but as I thought it was a discussion you should have with her, I left it at that. I think you should talk to her, and I think you should give her a chance. I don’t think it would be good for you to close your mind off to possibilities. Okay?”
I think for a moment and nod, partly to appease her. The other part of me is listening.
“Okay."
We sit there for a little while longer until it's time for her to go.
In the quiet, I wonder if I really could open my mind to any possibilities with Aurora.
That would include a future beyond the next six months.
It would also mean coming clean with the truth and clearing away the lies.
* * *
I'm away from Aurora for the next three days.
Apart from a few phone calls and text messages here and there, we haven’t really spoken to each other.
I’ve been busy in meetings, and the time difference has made it difficult to keep in touch.
The ruthless part of me has seen that as a tool I could use to take the coward's way out and allow my absence to naturally bleed my obsession of her from my mind. But the part of me that wants nothing more than to be back inside her suffocated all those thoughts, and I’ve ended up wanting her more than I ever have.
Now I'm back in New York, taking the elevator up to my grandfather's office.
The first thing on my schedule today is the meeting I’ve been waiting for between him, myself, and Jericho. Instead of speaking to me directly, Grandfather wanted to see us together.
God knows what that means. It can’t be good, but I haven't been able to focus on anything else besides Aurora to give much thought to what I might be walking into.
It hasn’t helped that I haven’t seen Aurora yet. I landed roughly two hours ago. By the time I got home, she'd already left for Sunset Cove.
With the back-to-back meetings I have today, I’m not likely to see her until tomorrow night—late—or possibly even the next night.
Tomorrow is Luc’s hockey match. It’s the first time I don’t particularly want to attend, but I promised I’d be there with Jericho and all the other guys because it’s the championship finals.
I get out of the elevator, and I'm so lost in my mind that I don't see Bastian standing by the column until he clears his throat.
That's what he always does when the fucker wants my attention. It's annoying and irritating. One day, I might just rip out his jugular and crush it to dust, then he won't do that again.
I keep walking because I don’t want to talk to him.
“Your bride was beautiful,” he calls out, but I keep going. “There were several shots of you and her in Sant-Tropez. You guys almost look real to me. The picture in theChronicleshows Aurora looking at you like you’re really the loving husband.”
That makes me stop. I knew we'd have the press following us at some point when we were on the mainland of Sant-Tropez, but that's not why I stopped.
It's Aurora’s name on his lips. I don’t like it. I face him and narrow my eyes with seething rage.
“Leave my wife alone. Don’t think about her, don’t speak about her, don’t look at her.” The warning in my voice is evident, but he laughs. “What’s so fucking funny, Bastian?”
He moves closer. “You,brother. Anyone who knows you would know straight away. That marriage of yours is fucking arranged. I just don't know forwhat. I’ll find out, though. Something tells me it’s to do with the company. In the meantime, you might not want to wear your weakness on your sleeve. It looks like you're falling for your own game. She is pretty, though. I can see why you fell into your own trap.”
He gives me the filthiest look he can summon, then walks back the way he came and keeps going.
I loathe what he said to me, but the fact that he can see straight through me is what I worry about most.
