“Don’t be so old-fashioned, Daddy. Stefan supports my academic pursuits.” I was bluffing, of course. I knew he was happy to pay for my schooling, but I had no idea what bearing that had on our relationship. Or if we were even going to have a proper relationship going forward.
I leaned over, gave my father a kiss on the cheek, and headed out to meet my car.
* * *
We arrivedin Chicago hours later, pulling up to an extremely nice, extremely expensive building. It wasn’t until the driver helped me out of the car that I realized I had never seen Stefan’s place. I had no idea what to expect.
The driver took my bags and escorted me into the building. At least he knew where we were going. I couldn’t have said which condo was his. I didn’t even know if this was the same place he had lived in before we got married or if it was a completely new place, or maybe even a wedding gift from his father.
When we knocked on the door, a friendly-faced older woman opened it.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Zoric. I’m Gretna. Your personal chef. Please, come in.” Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, a few loose strands framing her ruddy cheeks, and she had deep-set eyes that seemed to twinkle in amusement as she took in the way my jaw dropped at the sight of the elaborate foyer beyond her, all black marble and dark blue walls with gold accents.
“Personal chef?” I echoed, feeling like Little Orphan Annie.
She nodded, motioning me inside again.
“My god. I—I’m so glad to meet you. Please, call me Tori.” I stepped into the condo, and Gretna took my bags from the driver and sent him on his way with a tip. The first thing I registered, beyond the echo of my steps on the marble floor, was how good the place smelled.
“Dinner will be ready at seven,” Gretna said when I commented on the heavenly aroma. “Mr. Zoric will join us then. Would you like a tour?”
I hid my disappointment that Stefan wasn’t there, mainly because I should have expected it. No doubt he was working. He was always working. Obviously it was necessary in order to maintain a residence, and a lifestyle, like Stefan’s.
Gretna took me around the spacious condo. It was richly decorated but still masculine in its dark, soothing tones, and I couldn’t help noticing that it was also extremely well-kept. The place was spotless, with gleaming, polished furniture, leather couches, and starkly dramatic artwork on the walls. It looked like the world’s most expensive bachelor pad. Clearly this had been Stefan’s place before we got married and he hadn’t changed a thing.
I didn’t mind. In fact, it gave me a little more insight into who he was. Almost like peering into his brain. A brain that was very masculine and very intense.
“And here is the master bedroom,” Gretna said, pushing open a heavy door.
She followed me in and set my bags on top of the bed. For a moment, I thought that there might have been a mistake, that she hadn’t been instructed to put me in the guest room—but then I glanced into the huge walk-in closet and found a number of my dresses from Vienna neatly arranged on one side. Someone had unpacked all of them for me and organized them. I was sure Stefan wouldn’t have let someone else do that without his explicit instructions. He was a man who liked to be in control, and I assumed that especially applied in his own home.
That meant we’d be sharing a bedroom. Interesting.
I had half expected, after everything that had happened on our honeymoon, that he would have completely dropped the pretense of a real marriage and given me a room of my own somewhere else in the house.
Not that I was complaining. Sharing a bed with him would make it even easier to implement some of the techniques Michelle had tried to impress upon me.
All I had to do was wait for him to come home.
“I need to go finish up,” Gretna told me, looking at her watch. “The rest of the family will be arriving just after seven. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”
I blinked.
“The rest of the family?”
Gretna nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Stefan’s family—his father and siblings will be joining you for dinner. A very special dinner.”
A special dinner? I glanced at the clock. And less than an hour to prepare?
The cook hurried off with my warm thanks and I immediately went into prep mode. I had to shower, do my hair and makeup, and pick out something suitable to wear. I had barely spent any time with Stefan’s family beyond our introduction at the wedding—it was important that I impress them now that we’d be having more focused, intimate face time.
As I rushed through my shower, I barely registered the luxurious bathroom other than a perfunctory appreciation of its gleaming gold faucets and more of that veined black marble that Stefan seemed to favor. I managed to blow dry and style my hair in record time, and then wrapped myself in a warm, fluffy robe that had been left out while I went to the closet to pick out my outfit and corresponding jewelry. I knew I had to look incredible for Stefan’s family—every inch the trophy wife.
I was bent over, looking through my suitcase for a pair of earrings, when I heard something behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder and found Stefan standing in the doorway of the closet.
He was wearing one of his designer suits—as always—but his tie was undone, his collar unbuttoned as if he had been in the process of changing. He was incredibly sexy like that; half in business mode and half at home. A hint of bare skin was showing, begging to be explored with my fingers. With my tongue.
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were intense. Hungry.
