DAHLIA WESTBROOKE
The next hour unfolded in a blur of polite, but shallow conversations, fake laughter, and Viktor's encompassing presence glued to my side the entire time.
He hadn't taken his eyes off me in the last sixty minutes, and I quickly learned he was an expert at reading my body language. If I showed any signs of discomfort during a conversation, he immediately picked up on it, made up some excuse to the other party, and before they knew it, we were on our way, his large hand guiding me the entire time.
Those moments usually stemmed from incessant questions about my disappearance, how we met and our marriage. In my plotting, I'd somehow forgotten about that vital detail, hence, I was like a deer caught in the headlights every time. Viktor, on the other hand, had no problem shutting them down with a simple, 'we wanted to keep things private', and they knew not to press after that. Not that he usually gave them a chance to. He just left.
Now, we were outside on the attached balcony to cool off and get away from the gawking eyes.
I sucked in my first breath of crisp air, slowly letting my guards come down one by one. "Ha, fresh air at last. I thought I was going to suffocate in that cloud of heavy perfumes and colognes. Do people realize they don't have to go that hard with their fragrances to smell nice?"
"What do you think about mine?" He asked quietly from my side.
I peeked at Viktor from the corner of my eyes, mildly amused. "Compliment fishing again?"
"No. I need to know if I need to make changes to mine."
My mouth hung open. "What?"
"Strong smells irritate your sinuses. I saw you holding back a few sneezes in there."
I paused as a warm feeling spread through my chest, sneaking into all the tiny corners and crevices until I couldn't feel the chill of the air around me anymore. He had noticed. "Was that why you suggested we get on the balcony?"
He didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle, but he didn't need to. I knew the answer to that question already.
"You don't need to change your cologne," I spoke after a beat of silence. "It's not suffocating."
He eyed me lazily through his lashes, leaning back against the balustrade casually, like he wasn't a second away from certain death if he so much as slipped. "No?"
"You smell warm. It reminds me of home."
His brows lifted, the only sign he was surprised while the rest of his face remained blank.
I lowered my eyes, turning away so I could make sense of the words that just carelessly slipped past my lips without a thought behind them.
"How'd you like the party so far?" Viktor asked, easing the awkward silence that had fallen between us after my slip up.
"Just like I expected – a chore." I chuckled, the low sound disappearing with the quiet breeze that swept past us. "I'm surprised I haven't run into Bethany's mother yet." Or Grayson.
I'd seen the birthday boy interact with the other guests, but he seemed to be wilfully ignoring, slipping deeper into the crowd if Viktor and I so much as came with twenty feet of him while holding mundane conversations of our own with other partygoers.
Of course, this minute detail hadn't gone unnoticed by others. Tongues were already starting to wag, but thankfully, all of it was directed in his direction. He was the one doing the avoiding, after all.
If Viktor heard all of it, he didn't show any outward reaction. He just followed behind me, doing an excellent job of ignoring people and blending into the background until it was time for him to relieve me.
He popped a shoulder casually, the perfect picture of nonchalance. "What difference would that make? They all suck just the same."
I cast my gaze in said man's direction again, just in time to see him pull out something from inside his jacket pocket. A pack of cigars. He slipped one between his lips, retrieving a zippo next. He lit up the flame, burning the end of his cigar until the stick glowed a bright cherry red under the soft light provided by the moon. In no time, tendrils of smoke filled the air in front of him as he took the first drag from his cancer stick.
"You smoke?" I found myself asking stupidly even though the evidence was right in my face.
He paused, his eyes widening for a brief second before he pulled the cigar from where it was perched between his lips, crushing it underneath the sole of his shoe. "My bad. I forgot it could irritate your sinuses."
I shook my head. "No, that's not it. It doesn't bother me much. I'd just prefer not to smell it at all."
It reminded me of my father, and the last thing I wanted was Viktor reminding me of that vile man. So far, they were shaping up to be completely different men, and I wanted it to remain that way.
"Won't happen again."
"Thank you." I looked over my shoulder at the unfolding celebration behind the French doors leading to the balcony. "I think we should go back soon. I'm thirsty, and my feet are starting to ache. I think I underestimated these shoes."
He jerked his head at some chairs in the corner, pushing off the balustrade. "Sit. You still need a breather. I'll bring you some water."
He disappeared between the doors before I could protest, and I sighed, making my way to the chair like he'd instructed. Alone, I basked in the silence of the evening, letting my eyes wander up to the sky where a few stars twinkled despite the brightness of the full moon.
It was serene, reminiscent of the newfound peace in my life ever since I woke up in that hospital. I couldn't remember the last time I'd just existed without a care in the world, or the weight of my responsibilities pressing down on my shoulders.
Unlike my father, Viktor was content to just let me exist. It took some getting used to, but after spending almost a month with him, I realized he truly didn't seem to mind what I did with my day. He had no asinine expectations. I just…existed. And for some reason, the slightly insane man 'liked' me. It was foreign.
Speak of the devil… I heard the French doors reopen, but the smile I had in place died out when I laid eyes on the intruder. Grayson.