Something had changed. I was not the same woman I had been just yesterday. It wasn’t the faint pink spots all over my body, the love bites on my chest, or the way my sex looked, it was my eyes. They were different. They knew there was no going back for me.
Then I thought of my father. I quickly dressed and hurried down the stairs. As I neared the dining room, I heard him speaking in Russian to someone. I cornered the door and peeped in, I could see he was speaking to Gloria. He laughed at something she said before she took her leave.
It was time for me to go in but my legs refused to move. How would things be with us now?
“I can usually sense the presence of someone standing behind me,” he said, his voice full of suppressed laughter.
Astounded at how awkward I was being, I walked in with a dry laugh.
“Hey,” he said, looking exceptionally handsome this morning. He was dressed in a black t-shirt that seemed molded to the ridges of his chest, and a pair of dark pin-striped trousers framing the hips that had driven relentlessly into me the previous night.
“Hey,” I said back.
For a moment, he held my gaze, then his eyes roved over the shorts and simple black tee I wore. He had seen me naked … he knew exactly what I looked like underneath. I felt my cheeks flame.
Thank God, Gloria decided to make another appearance then.
She was carrying a pot of coffee. “Good morning,” she called crisply, her smile and gaze kind.
I was more than grateful for the distraction as I returned the greeting.
Politely, she indicated towards the seat by Levan, where a place had been set.
It seemed as if Levan was drinking a coffee so dark it was almost black, but as if she knew exactly what I drank, she poured the filter coffee into my cup, and asked, “What would you like, dear? I can make you anything you want.”
“Just anything that’s available will do,” I replied. “Thank you.”
“Bring her a full English breakfast too,” Levan said.
She nodded with a smile and left the room.
“Thanks,” I said awkwardly. I wasn’t used to having a man order breakfast for me. To seem more at ease and worldly and for something to do with my hands. I reached for an apple from a basket of fruits on the table, but as I did I saw four white, wooden boxes with Chinese or Japanese writing on them. “What are those?”
“Persimmons from Japan.” He pushed one of the white boxes towards me. “Try one. They’re rampant in Russia during the winter, but these ones are from a very special farm in Japan. They are supposed to be fifteen times sweeter than an ordinary persimmon.”
I opened the box to find a single, perfectly shaped, flawlessly orange persimmon. It was carefully wrapped in straw and foam. It came with a pamphlet as if it was an expensive watch or designer assessor. “Oh, my God,” I whispered, as I took it out of its protective packaging. I lifted it to my mouth and bit into it. Juices exploded in my mouth with some dripping down my chin.
It should have been embarrassing, but it was not. The persimmon was that good.
“Wow, I didn’t expect it to be that soft,” I said, reaching for my napkin. He didn’t answer and my eyes rushed to meet his.
He was staring at me with an expression that was impossible to describe. Inside it was fierce possessiveness, a desperate hunger, tenderness and a dash of indulgence.
For a while, neither of us moved. We simply stared at each other with amazement. It was as if we were lost in a land of mutual appreciation.
Then Gloria appeared at the door holding a domed plate.
I tore my gaze away from his to look over at her. “Thank you,” I said, my voice breathless, as she placed the plate in front of me. When she lifted the lid, the delicious smell of a cooked breakfast filled my nostrils. I put the fruit on the side plate then lifted my knife and fork. I was acutely aware of him watching my every move and it was making my whole body tingle as if there was a faint current of electricity under my skin. I wanted him to throw me on top of the table and flush my brains away once again.
“You mentioned something about my father?” I said, my voice sounding constricted and raspy.
“Eat something first,” he said, his voice tight and strained.
I tried to ignore Levan’s gaze on me as I cut into a sausage, but his proximity was messing with my mind and made my hands shake. To my horror, the fork fell from my grip and clattered noisily onto the table. Kicking myself internally, I picked it up.