My mansion isn’t finished being built. The west wing is still under construction. I wasn’t in a rush to get it done. It’sa project I’ve been working on for a while—my own project, something close to my heart. Something I’ve been building with my own hands.
I had the architect create a structure of bones and walls that I could begin to shape into my own world. There is something about wood that speaks to me. The grain. The delicate pattern created over the years of growth. The different shades of earthy tones and the rawness of it until you’ve sculpted it into what you want.
I love it. No one else in my family enjoys carpentry, so I don’t know where I picked up the passion for it, but who cares? It calms my mind and feeds my creative soul.
When we arrive, I park out front and note the scowl on Katerina’s face.
“It’s still being built?” she asks, confused.
“The east wing is done, mostly. There are still some things I’m adding finishing touches to. But the west wing isn’t ready yet.”
She follows me up the steps. I pause at the giant double doors, dark, streaked wood I had imported from Africa. “It’s Zebrawood. Hand-carved,” I muse as I trace my fingers over the delicate design I carved into the surface. “You can recognize it instantly because of the pale color of the wood, streaked with these dark lines.”
“It’s beautiful. The artist took a lot of care in his work.”
Her genuine compliment takes me by surprise. I knit my brows as I look at her. “I’m the artist,” I say calmly, waiting for her reaction.
She chuckles. A little snort. Really cute.
“Right.Youcarved this door,” she huffs sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“I did, actually. I carved every door in this mansion. And every door frame, mantel, shelf, the kitchen countertop…the cabinets in the kitchen and bedroom. I did all of it myself. It’s a passion of mine. It’s also why this place is taking so long to finish.”
I push the door open, and she walks inside, speechless. I can’t tell whether she believes me or not.
I let her walk ahead of me, her eyes darting over the space: crisp white walls, with windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, letting natural light flood into my home. Tall green tropical plants splash bright green color against the clean space. Dark and light wood accents pull texture from the minimalist design. It’s beautiful. It’s homey and welcoming and exactly what I envisioned when I imagined this place.
“Wow,” she whispers, walking into the living room, tracing her fingers over a giant monstera leaf that’s hanging from a plant taller than the second floor, towering over her. She looks up at it, at the open landing above her.
“This place is…it’s incredible.”
“Thank you,” I smile with pride. My heart swelling with warmth. I haven’t let too many people in here. I wanted to wait until it was all done, and I could move in, maybe have a party to celebrate. This place is so personal to me, so close to my heart, that I’ve been nervous about receiving any kind of criticism.
Katerina wanders into the living room and stands in front of the fireplace. She touches the head of the tiger I carved into the corner of the shelf. “Did you seriously do this yourself?” she asks, tracing her fingers over the joinery, leaning close to admire the detail.
“I did,” I say, leaning my shoulder against the wall and folding my arms over my chest.
I can’t stop smiling.
I follow her around the living room, dining room, and kitchen, which are all mostly finished.
“I want to put a bookshelf here. From the floor to the ceiling.” I gesture over the wall in the foyer when we walk through it again. “I’m trying to decide if I want a dark wood, something raw and rich, or something smooth and varnished. I’m leaning towards the raw option. Like a sleeper wood.”
“Like the shelf in the dining room?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, considering the wall.
“Yes, like that, but much bigger.”
“I love that shelf. The wood looks old and filled with character. It would be a feature on its own, even before you filled it with books.”
We explore the parts of the mansion that are safe to move through. The others are locked up for now, still under construction, and cut off from this part of the house. Security is tight here, even though it’s not finished yet. And because I knew I was bringing her here, I had them bring an extra team to patrol the garden and perimeter.
There’s no way she’ll escape this place. She can explore all she wants; I don’t have to worry about a thing. It’s a hundred times better than the small penthouse where we’re at each other’s throats.
Chapter 6 - Katerina
His mansion is magnificent. I’m still in disbelief that he carved these pieces himself, but what do I know about him? Nothing. So whether he’s lying or not, the bottom line is that he has excellent taste. This place is a dream home, straight out of the pages of a glossy magazine.
It’s the type of place movie producers would want to rent for luxurious scenes with a star-studded cast.
