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I had been so eager to go back upstairs and crawl into bed, but now I can’t imagine lying beside Eve with so many questions swirling around in my head. So, I grab my keys from the kitchen and leave with no idea of where I’m going.
17
Eve
I looked for Luka when I woke up in the morning, but he wasn’t there. I thought maybe he’d left early in the morning to take care of some work, but there was no note or phone call or message. By the afternoon, I’m worried enough that I start asking the housekeepers doing their work around the house and the groundskeepers mowing the lawn whether they’ve seen him or know where he may have gone. They all look at me like I’m crazy and insist they know nothing. I didn’t really expect them to, but I’m disappointed all the same.
Could the honeymoon phase be over so quickly? Before getting married, I’d expected life with Luka to be cold and passionless and lonely, but he’d surprised me. Our first night together was one of the best nights of my entire life, and our second night together was no different. Beneath his frowns and thick muscle, Luka has a loving, more gentle side. And for a moment, I thought I was bringing that out in him.
But when his absence turns from one day into two and then three, I have to wonder where things went wrong. What I did wrong.
By day three, I’m lonely and bored and, despite my anger at him for abandoning me without any notice, I miss him. I’ve been sleeping in his bed every night, wrapped up in his scent, and I collapse on the bed again. Even though he hasn’t slept there in three days, the cedar and bourbon smell of him is embedded in the sheets. Someone should make it into a body wash because I want to bathe in it.
I burrow beneath the warm covers and close my eyes. I want to see Luka for many reasons, but – surrounded by the smell of him and in his bed – one very important reason rises to the surface. I want him.
I want his large hands gripping my body. I want his weight pressing down on me. I want his bright green eyes devouring every inch of my skin like he can’t get enough.
Giving in to my need, I press a flat palm down across my stomach, remembering the way Luka’s hand travelled the same path, and slip my fingers beneath the elastic of my panties. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to imagine it is him. His hand instead of mine. His breath warm on the shell of my ear, whispering naughty little nothings to me. There is a tingle deep inside of me, a small spark of flame that I intend to fan. I slide my finger down, my legs falling open to grant myself better access, and draw a circle over my sensitive nub. My body clenches from the shockwave, but I do it again and again, bucking my hips gently into the motion. I bite my lower lip, tip my head back, and release a soft moan.
Luka would kiss my neck, nip at my collarbone, and swirl his tongue over my nipples if he was here. He would make this so much better, but that isn’t enough reason to stop. I move my hand faster and faster, my body arching into the ache, into the need. My breathing is growing more ragged, heat moving into my cheeks, and I can feel the release lurking just over the edge. I just…need…another…second—
There is a knock at Luka’s door, and my hand flies out of my pants. I scrambled out from under the covers and sit upright just as the door opens.
“Mrs. Volkov?” A housekeeper pokes her head around the doorframe.
The name is still unfamiliar to me, and for a moment I think she must be looking for someone else, but then I realize she means me. “Yes?”
“Mr. Volkov called, and he would like you to prepare a dinner for four tonight,” she says.
“Mr. Volkov?” I ask, almost throwing back the covers to stand up and talk to her before I remember my pants are unbuttoned and halfway down around my thighs.
“Luka,” she clarifies.
I want to ask her what all he said and whether he sounded okay, but I’m embarrassed he hasn’t contacted me. I’m embarrassed that we’ve been married for five days, and I haven’t seen him in three. So, I just nod and thank her.
She leaves, but the promise of an orgasm has faded, and the idea is embarrassing now. I’m a newlywed. I’m not supposed to be resorting to an afternoon delight with my own hand. So, I pull up my pants, crawl out of bed, and pad down to the kitchen. At least cooking will offer some distraction.
* * *
By the time I’m turning the tiramisu out on a dessert platter and pulling the osso buco from the oven, I feel better than I have in days. Cooking has always been an escape from me, but when I didn’t know where Luka was or when I’d see him again, it was hard for me to find the energy. Instead of cooking, I ate cold sandwiches and cereal. So, feeling the warmth from the stove top and having a dirty apron around my neck feels like I’m finally awake after days of being asleep.
As soon as the doorbell rings, however, the happiness fades into dread.
There has to be a reason Luka disappeared. He must be upset about something, and I have no idea what it could be. More than that, I don’t want to hash it out in front of whatever guests he decided to invite.
Dinner for four.Who could he be bringing home?
I take off the apron, folding it into a square and dropping it on the counter, and then smooth out the wrinkles in the maroon dress I pulled from the closet. It is tighter than I’d choose for a dinner party, but it was one of the few dresses that didn’t reveal a startling amount of cleavage. And as soon as I answer the door, I’m relieved I opted for modesty. Luka’s father, Ivan Volkov, is standing on the other side of the door. His wife, Katerina, standing next to him.
“Hi,” I say, too shocked to come up with a more formal greeting.
Katerina is kind and steps forward to give me a hug, but Ivan offers little more than a smirk as he passes and hangs his coat behind the door.
“Luka isn’t here yet, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” I say, trying to sound as if I have any idea where he might be.
“Luka will be coming shortly,” Ivan says. Of course, he knows where Luka is. He may have kept his location from me, but he wouldn’t keep his father in the dark. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “But we should get started without him. We have a lot to talk about.”
I fret over these words as the food is dished out and everyone begins to eat. Luka’s empty seat and plate plague me, making it hard for me to focus on anything else. Katerina raves about the food, telling me it is better than something she could find in a restaurant, but Ivan stays quiet. I’m sure, like me, he is remembering how we met at The Floating Crown. He hated the food I served him then, but if his empty plate and second serving tells me anything, he is more pleased with my take on veal.
