The Astronomer

by Charmaine Pauls

  The court officer handed Emilio the ornate scissors with which Emilio cut the band on her wrist to reveal the healing wound, his mark. Emilio pressed his palm onto the black ink, onto the picture that was still red and swollen, still unclear. It was only when the clapping started that Fraya realized she was supposed to kiss him, but it was Emilio’s head that bent down, his lips that claimed the kiss she was supposed to give, and his steady steps that led her into the room where the banquet had been laid out and where the band was playing. There wasn’t going to be any dancing. Gene had two left feet. They had chosen the music for background ambience.

  This was not what she had wanted at all. If she had her choice, she would have eloped with her groom, but Gene wanted everything to be traditional. She had suggested twenty guests, and somehow Rebecca and Gene had wrestled her into eighty. Now she had to face those eighty people, tolerating their endless questions, pity, concern, words of congratulations, and meaningless conversations. For the first twenty minutes Fraya was forced to mingle, always aware of the gossip. One had to be a fool not to notice the talking behind hands, the stares when they thought she wasn’t looking, and the knowing nods. She was relieved when they could take their place at their table, the serving of the dinner interrupting any more talking. Emilio’s hand went to the backrest of her chair. His thumb brushed over her shoulder.

  He leaned toward her. “Did you take the painkillers?” he said softly, his lips close to her ear.

  She nodded.

  His free hand moved to her wrist, his fingers playing around the wound without touching the sensitive skin. “Still hurting?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you?”

  She looked at him quickly and faked a smile. “Of course.”

  “You’re not enjoying yourself.”

  “Under the circumstances, I’d say that’s normal.”

  He handed her the glass of champagne the waiter had served. “Congratulations, Mrs. Larraín.”

  She had signed the mating contract as Dr. Riber. Calling her by his last name sounded too possessive, too caring when she knew Emilio only cared for her body, and it struck a nerve that Fraya suddenly couldn’t handle. The pressure of the day finally erupted.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said, a little bit more coldly than what she had intended. “I’m a sex slave, not a wife.”

  Emilio didn’t answer for a while. When he moved it was to remove his hand from her shoulder and place on the table in front of him. His fingers played with the serviette ring in what seemed to be a relaxed stance, but Fraya could see his jaw bunching from the corner of her eye.

  Emilio said at last, “And I can’t wait to put that in practice,” and then downed his champagne.

  Fraya bit her lip. “My remark was uncalled for. Instead of lashing out at you, I should thank you.”

  He kept his gaze fixed on the crowd. “Whatever for?” His words were sarcastic, mocking now.

  She frowned. “For helping me out like this.”

  “For mating you?” he said in a lazy voice, his eyes following the serving waiters. “Why, you can’t even say the word.”

  Fraya found his tone hostile. Not that she didn’t deserve it.

  “Give me time, Emilio, to get used to the idea.”

  His face turned abruptly. “I didn’t ask you to get used to it. I asked to fuck you.”

  She pinched her eyes shut. “Don’t make it sound like that.”

  “That’s how you make it sound like. Don’t like it?” His lips moved back to her ear. “Don’t give it if you can’t take it. I’m trying to be civil, but if it’s a sex slave you want to be, I’m sure I can handle that.”

  Fraya stared into the distance. She had insulted him when he was only trying to be nice. What other reaction could she expect from him?

  “I’ll honor my promise,” she said softly.

  His laugh was mocking. “Damn right you will. I told you, I wouldn’t let you break another one.”

  Fraya wiped a hand over her face. “How long do we still have to stay?”

  Emilio’s expression softened. “We have to give it at least another hour. Our plane doesn’t leave until midnight.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  “If you need me, we could go back to my hotel earlier. You only have to ask, Fraya, if your pride will let you. You needn’t suffer.”

  “I’m fine.”

  This time it was he who nodded, when it was clear by the way he pursed his lips that he disagreed.

  It was with relief that Fraya could finally leave the festivities with the excuse of changing into her travel clothes. Emilio was angry with her and he had the right to be. She had ruined their mating party, even as he had tried to make it as less awkward as possible. It had been cruel of her to accuse him of trapping her as a sex slave. Of course that wasn’t true. He offered her a way out, on his terms, and she accepted. How could she throw accusations at him after they had shaken hands on the deal?

  When Emilio knocked on the door of her hotel room to tell her the car was waiting, she had every intention of apologizing, but when she opened the door, he leaned in the frame, regarding her with his fiery eyes. Angry eyes.

  “It’s time to take my sex slave home,” he said coldly, and her excuses remained on the tip of her tongue, never quite finding their way to her lips as they drove in silence to the zone station.

  Chapter Eleven

  The airhostess touched Fraya’s shoulder. “Breakfast, ma’am?”

  Emilio watched Fraya open her eyes grudgingly. “No thanks,” she said and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  The serum was wearing off and his mate was getting cranky. She had taken her last dose the afternoon before, as they had agreed. Or rather, as he had insisted and she had given in. He should have just fucked her in her flat before the ceremony, or seduced her in her hotel room, knowing she would refuse hardheadedly, insisting that she didn’t hurt from need, but he didn’t want to take his mate like that. If she kept this up, she would leave him no choice. Since they had boarded she had been ill tempered and difficult. He knew the preceding day and ceremony hadn’t been easy on her and he understood the stress she had been through, but he didn’t know how to make it better, except maybe with sex.

  He squeezed Fraya’s knee and leaned over his new mate. “She’ll have the English breakfast.”

  The airhostess smiled when she handed him the meal. He didn’t miss the irritated look he got from Fraya as he opened her tray table and arranged her breakfast for her.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said, sitting up a little as his arm brushed over her breasts.

  “You don’t eat enough. You didn’t eat a thing at the reception yesterday.”

  In her wedding gown she had been perfection. The fact that it was meant for Gene was something he consciously chose to ignore. During all of the ceremony he refused to think about his friend. He wanted all of his attention to be on her, to remember her forever the way she had looked, the way she had been. He had known that she would not wear the family necklace Rebecca had set aside for her, not with the way events had turned, and he had noticed with some irritation, but not with surprise, that she didn’t wear the black diamond earrings he had delivered either.

  He had been proud of the way she had handled everything. No one could have said that she was anything but happy, calm and relaxed. Only he knew something of the turmoil she felt. It was only in the plane that he saw her drop her mask. She seemed exhausted. The acting had taken its toll. No doubt the heat building in her system too. He had been surprised when she had declined the airline dinner, since she hadn’t eaten any of the courses prepared by the wedding caterers. Almost immediately she was asleep, but not for long. He never slept in planes, and had watched her over his electronic work pad toss and turn, walk up and down the aisle, look at movies she wasn’t watching and listen to music she wasn’t hearing.

  He spread the napkin over her lap and stirred sugar into her coffee. �
�You’ve got to eat something, Fraya. The last thing you had was the coffee of yesterday morning.”

  Instead of answering, she turned away from him. He clasped his fingers around her chin and turned her face back to him. “Fraya, there are some rules we need to lay down.”

  “I know,” she bit out. “You get to have sex when you want, where you want, and how you want.”

  Just for that remark she needed a spanking. “Yes, and I said when the need was mutual. I never intended treating you like a slave, but if you keep on harping on the subject I’ll be tempted to do just that.” He saw her blink and her mouth open, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply. “We’re going to live under the same roof and we’re going to have some kind of relationship. I don’t want sulkiness.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re giving me the cold shoulder right now, and that’s not the kind of behavior that’s conducive to an open relationship. You walked into this with your eyes open.”

  He could see her reflecting for a moment. “It’s been a tough day.”

  He took her hand. “I want you to know that you have my support in any way a mate would normally give it.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled her hand away awkwardly. “I won’t need any support.”

  He sighed. “Fine. We’ll see about that. And one more thing. As far as my family is concerned, this is a normal mating.”

  “What? You’re not going to tell them the truth?”

  “My parents are not as worldly as we are, Fraya. They won’t understand. My family means everything to me. I won’t see them disappointed, or hurt.”

  She frowned. “And an arranged mating will disappoint them?”

  “My mother will be devastated if she thinks you don’t love me.”

  She shook her head, looking at him with those doe eyes, all frightened and ready to flee, but acting brave. “You want me to play the role of the loving, doting wife?”

  “I’m just asking you to let them believe in their fantasy. You don’t have to lie, but you don’t have to tell the truth.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “No. And I won’t hold you to it. But it will mean a lot to them. I’m not asking for me, I’m asking for them.”

  When she looked away again, he said, “You don’t have to make up your mind now. Wait until you’ve met them.”

  The seatbelt sign came on and a voice announced their descent. Emilio closed the files he was working on and switched off his electronic pad. He glanced at Fraya. She gritted her teeth. If he didn’t take her soon, they were going to be in a hell of a situation. He didn’t want to have to demand. More than anything, he wanted her to come to him. He wanted her unbound, liberated and willing in his bed. Somehow, he knew it was going to take a bit more than wishful thinking to get to that point.

  ****

  Fraya did her best to freshen up in the zone station bathroom after their eleven-hour flight. Looking in the mirror, she decided she appeared as bad as she felt. It was difficult just to put one foot in front of the other. The week before the wedding had been a restless one of bad nights and little sleep. Maybe she had a hunch of the stunt Gene was going to pull. Maybe her gut feel was trying to warn her. The emotional havoc of the day before and the act she had to put up had taken every last drop of her energy. And the need was building, burning her alive. She felt shaky. Emilio was right. She should eat. The thing was, she couldn’t stomach food. Even the smell of it made her sick.

  In a futile attempt to add some color to her cheeks, she splashed her face with cold water and tapped it dry with a paper towel. She brushed her teeth, applied mascara and lipstick, and brushed her long hair until it fell shiny around her face. Hand lotion and a dab of perfume behind each ear completed her efforts. She straightened her autumn colored chiffon blouse over the cream silk camisole and adjusted her beige skirt. She fished for her heels in her oversized handbag and changed the ballet style shoes she had been wearing for the flight. Being below average short had always made her feel self-conscious. Wearing stilettos gave her that dash of confidence she sometimes felt she needed, and today, she definitely needed it. Giving herself a last glance in the full-length mirror, she took a deep breath and picked up her bag.

  Emilio was waiting outside, his shoulder braced against the wall. He smiled when she exited, and her heart almost fluttered. Maybe he had forgiven her for last night’s insult. If he only knew how much she needed him right now, but not like he wanted her. She wanted him for more than sex. She wanted him for friendship too. Somehow she doubted that Emilio would ever consider her as a friend. How could anyone trust someone they believed betrayed them?

  Emilio took her bag without a word. She allowed him to take her arm and escort her outside to where a black XJ100 waited. Emilio seemed to have a thing for black cars. The driver lifted his cap when they approached and opened the passenger door. Emilio helped her inside and got in next to her.

  When their luggage was loaded and the driver was seated behind the wheel, he turned and said, “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Larraín.”

  Fraya flinched at the memory of what she had said the last time she was called Mrs. Larraín, but instead of remarking, Emilio said, “Thank you, Pablo,” and gave Fraya one of those reassuring smiles she had rarely seen since Zone 11, with the sweet exception of their wedding ceremony.

  Emilio pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She couldn’t be sure if it was for the sake of appearances, or if he was enjoying torturing her, knowing very well she couldn’t pull away in front of the chauffeur without seeming rude. Whatever his motivation for the intimate gesture, his body was warm and being pulled into the crook of his arm made her feel protected, and strangely eased her discomfort, as if the affection put a lid on the desire. If it didn’t stop the silly contractions she felt in her abdomen, at least it abated them. She closed her eyes, but opened them again as she felt sleep pulling at her. If she fell asleep now, she’d wake up groggy. Best she dragged herself off to bed for a nap as soon as they got home. She checked the time on the dashboard computer. It was just after noon.

  They left a valley surrounded by mountains to take a pass that crawled up one of many brown hills. Despite her situation, Fraya felt a tinge of excitement. Cactus plants dotted the uninhibited parts of the landscape. The area looked dry and brittle. It was its low rainfall that added to the country’s suitability for observatories. Chile was one of the best countries in the word for astronomical observations. Its altitude and clear, dry sky made it the ideal place for studying stars. The Southern World Observatory in Cerro Paranal, near Antofagasta in the Atacama Desert, where she had been accepted as Junior Astronomer, boasted four new telescopes, called AKMY, which were constructed on the Chajnantor plateau in the Chilean Andes at sixteen thousand four hundred feet. This was not only the largest ground-based astronomical project in existence, but also the highest. It was situated thirty miles from San Pedro de Atacama, the driest place on earth. These geographical characteristics made it the perfect location for star observation, eliminating the problem of signals from space being heavily absorbed by water vapor in the earth’s atmosphere. The SWO also housed the S-ELT, the Southern Extremely Large Telescope, the world’s biggest eye in the sky, and the VLT, the Very Large Telescope, the world’s most advanced optical instrument. Exchanging sex with the most enigmatic man in the world for the opportunity to work in this incredible environment suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

  A long tunnel blacked out their vision and when they exited on the other side, the city of Santiago stretched out in front of them, covering the expanse of the broad valley sheltered by eight thousand-foot-high mountains. Like all major cities, this one suffered the unappealing façade of dominating stack buildings. Square concrete blocks rose from the floor of the valley, burying any traces of green under slab and cement. The only difference was that these seemed higher than the ones in Toronto.

  The car turned away from the city, he
ading toward to the outskirts of town.

  Fraya looked at Emilio. “You don’t live in town?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  She bit her lip. It dawned on her how little she knew about the man she had mated, when he seemed to know so much about her. He was familiar with her history, at least with everything that Gene had told him, and with things that made her flush.

  After another twenty minutes they took a steep road up a mountain and passed a few big properties hidden behind high walls until there were no more houses, only trees and clouds. At the very end of the road, imposing silver gates came into view. Fraya gasped. Gene had mentioned that Emilio had a nice house, but she hadn’t expected this. A paved road lined by enormous Ginkgo Biloba trees led up to a house. The whitewashed building with its slate roof was modern. The main entrance was a swivel, wooden door covered by a small veranda, the double volume supporting pillars giving it both an inviting and intimidating feel. A square tower dominated the left wing of the house while an open terrace stretched along the width of the right.

  Fraya looked around the garden. Huge trees interrupted the green lawn and there were inviting benches in shady spots.

  “I expected you to live in town, in an apartment,” Fraya said when she had found her tongue.

  “I have a townhouse for business reasons, but this is where I live.”

  The car came to a stop in front of the house and Emilio got out to open her door. As if on cue, the front door opened and a lady in a housekeeper’s uniform stepped outside.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Larraín. Congratulations.” She turned to Fraya. “I’m Maria. If there’s anything you need, Mrs. Larraín, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”