With the clock nearing midnight, my cavernous bedroom filled with the sound of my rumbling stomach. Perhaps I was hungry?
Still barefooted, I quietly made my way down the long corridor, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. I’m sure there was a more direct route, but with the dimmed lighting, I was unsure of my surroundings. Once my feet hit the textured flooring of the kitchen, I searched for the refrigerator. There were many, all filling a corner of the restaurant-grade kitchen. They were stainless steel and large.
I’d lived most of my life in boarding schools. I didn’t know much about cooking, but this kitchen was nothing like the one at my mother and Randall’s house. Without turning on the lights, I saw wall ovens and multiple stovetops with large hoods. Near a row of cabinets there was a stand-alone refrigerator. I decided to check in there first.
When I opened the door, the bright light flooded the kitchen. As soon as my eyes adjusted, my cheeks rose, revealing my smile. On the first shelf were multiple containers with notes that all read Victoria. Pulling the first from its place, I opened it and discovered a salad, complete with a container of dressing. The second was filled with fresh fruit. Each one was a gift, made especially for me, by someone who truly wanted to help me.
As I reached for the last container, the energy of the room shifted. It wasn’t that I heard anyone or physically felt anyone, but I knew. I knew I was no longer alone. Before I could speak, a large hand came from behind and held open the refrigerator door. I didn’t need to turn around to know Stewart was there.
STEWART’S WARM BREATH skirted across my hair, a stark contrast to the coolness coming from the refrigerator. Goose bumps materialized on my arms and legs as I became hypersensitive to his proximity, as well as keenly aware of my clothing. I was standing in Stewart’s kitchen in nothing more than a long t-shirt and panties.
“May I help you?” he whispered near my ear.
Shuffling my feet, I reached for the final container. With a quick turn and a confident smile, I replied, “No, thank you. I think Lisa has taken care of everything.”
Now, nearly nose to nose, Stewart took a step backward and scanned me from head to toe. “Pity.”
I arched my brow.
“I hoped there was something you needed, something Ms. Madison wasn’t able to give you.”
“I-I didn’t eat earlier. She said I could get something…”
He stepped closer, his firm chest grazing my erect nipples. Taking the container, he reached for my hand. “Come, Miss Conway, let me show you the view.”
Like an animal to its slaughter, I followed, bare feet silently padding the hard tile surface until our destination came into view. Seeing the small table with the flickering candle, I gasped. Once he led me through the glass doors, the salt-scented humidity assaulted my senses while the warmth brought back feeling to my air-conditioner-cooled fingers and toes. Glancing at the table, I watched as the small flame protected within a glass chimney illuminated the beautiful balcony, creating a contrast to the dark ocean beyond.
“Stewart, this is beautiful. Did you talk to Lisa?”
His expression blanked. “I have, but not recently. Why?”
Was he an honest man? Could I take his reaction to mean that he’d planned this himself, perhaps, without my comment to her about candlelit dinners?
I shook my head, my dark hair cascading around my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. It was just something I said to her.”
“You don’t like the ocean breeze?”
“No, I do. I like it very much. I always wanted to spend time at the beach, but even growing up near Miami, I rarely did.”
Stewart reached for my hand. “Tonight I don’t want to talk about your decision or the contracts. If you have questions, ask me tomorrow. We’ll talk, early. Tonight, I want to learn more about you, and if you want, I can tell you more about me.”
My lips pursed. “Do you swear you didn’t talk with Lisa?”
“I swear.” He crossed his heart with his finger. “Our last conversation was about breakfast tomorrow morning. It’ll be at six.” He glanced at his watch. “Which is getting closer by the minute.” With a raised brow he asked, “Do you want me to double-dog swear? I will.”
“No.” I giggled. “No need to go to all that trouble.” I looked out at the water, the same water I could see from my room a floor above. “This is beautiful.”
“It is,” he agreed, though his eyes weren’t on the water, but on me. “More beautiful than I dared imagine.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks as I looked down to my lap. Before I could respond, his fingers reached for my chin. “Tori, don’t look away. Never look away. You’re much too beautiful for that.”
“Tori?” I questioned. No one had ever called me Tori.
“I like it. I like that it’s my name for you and mine alone. When I call you Tori, you’ll know it’s our connection.”
I didn’t know what to say. Our connection? Did we have a connection? “Stewart, please tell me more about you. I know you lost your wife—you mentioned that. Did the two of you have any children? Do you have any children?”
He shook his head. “No. We tried. Lindsey even tried in-vitro. Some things even money can’t buy.” The cloud of sadness took away his self-assured façade.
“I know you said not to talk about the contracts, but there’s a lengthy clause about children, about not having them. Can you tell me why?”
Still barefooted, I quietly made my way down the long corridor, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. I’m sure there was a more direct route, but with the dimmed lighting, I was unsure of my surroundings. Once my feet hit the textured flooring of the kitchen, I searched for the refrigerator. There were many, all filling a corner of the restaurant-grade kitchen. They were stainless steel and large.
I’d lived most of my life in boarding schools. I didn’t know much about cooking, but this kitchen was nothing like the one at my mother and Randall’s house. Without turning on the lights, I saw wall ovens and multiple stovetops with large hoods. Near a row of cabinets there was a stand-alone refrigerator. I decided to check in there first.
When I opened the door, the bright light flooded the kitchen. As soon as my eyes adjusted, my cheeks rose, revealing my smile. On the first shelf were multiple containers with notes that all read Victoria. Pulling the first from its place, I opened it and discovered a salad, complete with a container of dressing. The second was filled with fresh fruit. Each one was a gift, made especially for me, by someone who truly wanted to help me.
As I reached for the last container, the energy of the room shifted. It wasn’t that I heard anyone or physically felt anyone, but I knew. I knew I was no longer alone. Before I could speak, a large hand came from behind and held open the refrigerator door. I didn’t need to turn around to know Stewart was there.
STEWART’S WARM BREATH skirted across my hair, a stark contrast to the coolness coming from the refrigerator. Goose bumps materialized on my arms and legs as I became hypersensitive to his proximity, as well as keenly aware of my clothing. I was standing in Stewart’s kitchen in nothing more than a long t-shirt and panties.
“May I help you?” he whispered near my ear.
Shuffling my feet, I reached for the final container. With a quick turn and a confident smile, I replied, “No, thank you. I think Lisa has taken care of everything.”
Now, nearly nose to nose, Stewart took a step backward and scanned me from head to toe. “Pity.”
I arched my brow.
“I hoped there was something you needed, something Ms. Madison wasn’t able to give you.”
“I-I didn’t eat earlier. She said I could get something…”
He stepped closer, his firm chest grazing my erect nipples. Taking the container, he reached for my hand. “Come, Miss Conway, let me show you the view.”
Like an animal to its slaughter, I followed, bare feet silently padding the hard tile surface until our destination came into view. Seeing the small table with the flickering candle, I gasped. Once he led me through the glass doors, the salt-scented humidity assaulted my senses while the warmth brought back feeling to my air-conditioner-cooled fingers and toes. Glancing at the table, I watched as the small flame protected within a glass chimney illuminated the beautiful balcony, creating a contrast to the dark ocean beyond.
“Stewart, this is beautiful. Did you talk to Lisa?”
His expression blanked. “I have, but not recently. Why?”
Was he an honest man? Could I take his reaction to mean that he’d planned this himself, perhaps, without my comment to her about candlelit dinners?
I shook my head, my dark hair cascading around my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. It was just something I said to her.”
“You don’t like the ocean breeze?”
“No, I do. I like it very much. I always wanted to spend time at the beach, but even growing up near Miami, I rarely did.”
Stewart reached for my hand. “Tonight I don’t want to talk about your decision or the contracts. If you have questions, ask me tomorrow. We’ll talk, early. Tonight, I want to learn more about you, and if you want, I can tell you more about me.”
My lips pursed. “Do you swear you didn’t talk with Lisa?”
“I swear.” He crossed his heart with his finger. “Our last conversation was about breakfast tomorrow morning. It’ll be at six.” He glanced at his watch. “Which is getting closer by the minute.” With a raised brow he asked, “Do you want me to double-dog swear? I will.”
“No.” I giggled. “No need to go to all that trouble.” I looked out at the water, the same water I could see from my room a floor above. “This is beautiful.”
“It is,” he agreed, though his eyes weren’t on the water, but on me. “More beautiful than I dared imagine.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks as I looked down to my lap. Before I could respond, his fingers reached for my chin. “Tori, don’t look away. Never look away. You’re much too beautiful for that.”
“Tori?” I questioned. No one had ever called me Tori.
“I like it. I like that it’s my name for you and mine alone. When I call you Tori, you’ll know it’s our connection.”
I didn’t know what to say. Our connection? Did we have a connection? “Stewart, please tell me more about you. I know you lost your wife—you mentioned that. Did the two of you have any children? Do you have any children?”
He shook his head. “No. We tried. Lindsey even tried in-vitro. Some things even money can’t buy.” The cloud of sadness took away his self-assured façade.
“I know you said not to talk about the contracts, but there’s a lengthy clause about children, about not having them. Can you tell me why?”
