I opened my mouth to apologize, but he continued before I could say anything.
“I’ve decided it’s best for both of us—and my checkbook—if you just stay here.”
I looked down at the long, polished table and rolling leather chairs. Where exactly did he expect me to be? Was I going to just be sitting in the corner during all of his meetings?
As if he could read my mind, he led me to the door and pointed to a sitting area down the hall from the conference room. There were chairs and a sofa, potted plants and a water cooler.
“I trust you’ll find a way to make yourself comfortable,” he said, before pushing me into the hall and shutting the door.
I stared at the closed door for a moment, awash in indignation at the way he’d treated me, but also trying to figure out a way I could turn this situation around. There had to be a way to get back on his good side. I wanted to explore Budapest. Wanted to see the city. Not just that, either. I wanted to see it withhim. Sure, I could probably make a dramatic escape, book a ticket on a tour bus, and go see all the sights by myself. But it wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t what I wanted, and it wouldn’t make me feel better.
As I took a seat outside the conference room, my temper settled a bit and I realized that maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I had wanted to get to know Stefan better. What better way to do that than to observe him in his element, working and pursuing his goals?
Maybe it would be the key to understanding him. To connecting with him.
Besides, I had an e-reader full of books. It wouldn’t hurt to behave myself after everything that had happened in Vienna. Clearly, we were just having trouble communicating with each other. That had to be common in any new relationship. Maybe this would help and the rest of our honeymoon would be better. We’d find a way to mix business with pleasure. If not the kind of pleasure I had in mind, then maybe the kind of pleasure we’d experienced at the beginning of our Vienna trip.
I tried to get comfortable in my chair and pulled up another one of the academic texts I’d downloaded—it explored the historical roots of the Hungarian language and I hoped that reading it would help prepare me for the kinds of books I’d be studying in my upcoming college courses.
Every few minutes, someone would cross in front of me and I’d look up to see them heading toward the far end of the hall, turning a corner and disappearing from view. It kept happening, and after a while I started paying a little more attention to who was walking by me.
They were women. All of them. All as beautiful and statuesque as the brunette in Vienna had been, wearing a variety of hair colors and figure-flattering (and revealing) outfits. It was almost comical, this parade of gorgeous women heading down the hall.
Unable to resist, I followed one of them around the corner.
There was another waiting area over there, but it was bigger—with a lot more chairs, almost all of them occupied by these gorgeous, leggy women—and had a huge window pouring light all over their perfect bodies. They all stared at me when I walked over, their gaze indicating that they weren’t sure why I was there. I clearly didn’t look like any of them, and they seemed confused that I was in their midst.
I spotted a reception desk and a bored-looking man sitting behind it. I walked over to him, flashing him my most charming ‘senator’s daughter’ smile. He barely reacted, his eyes sweeping up and down my body. His expression grew wary. He also didn’t think I belonged.
“What is this?” I asked.
He frowned at me, and then said something in Hungarian that I didn’t understand.
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“No English,” he replied, his accent thick.
We both stared at each other for a moment, before he sighed and handed over a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached. The whole thing was also in Hungarian, but I recognized the logo at the top of the paper. KZ Modeling. From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out what the rest of it said. It was a form covered with evenly spaced text and blank lines, asking for personal information—name, age, measurements, references—the kind of thing that would be necessary for a modeling casting call.
Was that what Stefan had been doing with that brunette in the hotel in Vienna? Had he been meeting with her to discuss a modeling contract? The realization thundered down, reframing the context of his entire day. No wonder he’d been so pissed to find me flirting up some French guy in the hotel bar, totally drunk and having stood him up for dinner. He’d been working all day, just like he had told me, and I’d repaid him with my childish behavior. I’d have to make it up to him. I wasn’t sure how, but I would.
Although I felt better that Stefan hadn’t been cheating on me, I was still frustrated that our entire honeymoon was actually a business trip in disguise. Why hadn’t Stefan just told me that? He had said we were dropping the pretenses, but he was the one who had made this seem like it could be a romantic trip with some occasional stops for business. In reality, it was the opposite. I didn’t understand why he had even brought me along in the first place. I wasn’t going to spend every day of this vacation sitting in a chair outside his meetings, staring at the wall like I was a child being punished. I wanted to see the sights, explore, take advantage of these beautiful new places. I was dying to experience all that my new life had to offer.
I looked back at the models, and then walked over to the window. The view was incredible—the river, the spires of the Parliament building overlooking it, huge red basilica domes and avenues of lush trees. It was calling to me with its siren song.
I had to get the hell out of there.
