21
Summer
Iknew from the moment night fell I was going to have a hard time falling asleep.
Eric and I got back just after lunch and I haven’t seen him since. I tried to take my mind off everything by going through the script for Scarlett’s play.
Scarlett and I used to practice our lines all the time. Doing lines worked to take my mind off things. It was great for me when she first joined the play because I practiced with her every day. She’d call me and we’d stay on the phone for hours just practicing. It’s a beautiful script and I loved talking to my sister so I didn’t mind how long it took or even finishing a shift at the club and spending that quality time with her.
Because I’m as crazy as my sister was we knew everyone’s lines too for the whole play. It made it flow well when we practiced.
At ten, when I didn’t see Eric come back I watched some tv in the living room before I retreated to my borrowed room again and dozed off for a few hours.
I was just getting into my reading again when I heard something.
I’m not sure what it is though. The only noises I can hear from inside here is anything just outside the door, or in the hallway.
Since I can’t hear anything when I listen out, I decide to go and check it out.
When I get to the kitchen I hear footsteps and talking coming from out on the terrace. It’s on the side near the hot tub. The entrance for that is just down the hallway.
It can only be Eric outside.
My cheeks burn when I remember us out there in that same hot tub. I’ve done a lot of things in my life but the way I behaved with him the other night was utterly scandalous.
If I can hear him talking, it could mean he’s not alone. And if he’s by the hot tub I can’t imagine him being there with one of his guards at this hour.
I glance at the clock and see it’s nearly one in the morning.
So if he’s in the hot tub or near it, maybe he’s with a woman.
How stupid would I look if I went out there?
How stupid am I now for feeling that stab of jealousy piercing into me?
I hear him talking again but now I can make out that he’s speaking in Russian and the sharp tone of his voice suggests he’s giving an order like when I heard him talking to his men. No one’s answering back either so that means he’s on the phone.
So… he’s alone?
My feet move toward his voice, as my body makes the decision for me to find him.
I get to the door and I can see him standing shirtless by the balcony. He’s got a cigar in one hand and the phone pressed to his ear with the other.
On the little table by the balcony is an opened bottle of wine.
I stop by the doorway and watch the trail of smoke blend in with the moonlight while he continues talking. With his back turned to me he flexes his muscles and straightens looking like an avenging angel. Although he’s not trying, the beauty of his sculpted body would weaken any woman’s defenses.
Even mine. He must have if I’m here watching him.
Or maybe it’s just that some part of me is stuck on thinking about how he devoured me.
I notice the moment he kind of glances over his shoulder, but I’m not sure.
He says something more in Russian, sets the phone down on the table, and reaches for the bottle to take a swig of the wine.
Drinking from the bottle doesn’t seem like his style and I wonder if there’s something wrong.
“Ty sobirayesh'sya smotret' na menya vsyu noch', kukla?” he says.