by Jenika Snow
“Good afternoon.” Veronica looked at Andre when he spoke and Kristoff tightened his hand around her. He didn’t know why he felt the need to hold onto her so tightly, but the possessive animal inside of him, the one that had claimed her, demanded he keep her close.
“Hello.” Her voice was soft and timid.
“I’m Andre Patrowski, business associate and friend of your husband.” He held his hand out and it took her a suspended moment to take Andre’s hand. Jealousy reared its ugly head when Andre lifted the back of her hand to his mouth and kissed the exposed flesh. Of course he was jealous and possessive, but those emotions were valid. He knew how Andre was, knew all the women he had taken to his bed. That wasn’t all, though. Kristoff knew all of Andre’s darker desires, ones that bordered on Dominance and submission. In the past. He said that was all in the past. Was that the truth?
He did hold himself differently, as if more confident and self-assured. However, maybe Andre was just playing a part? Kristoff certainly wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe Kristoff was being too hard, too judgmental on a man that had always been professional toward him. In the end, Kristoff would never honestly know what was going on in Andre’s mind, or what his ulterior motive was.
“I was just telling Kristoff that I’m throwing a little gathering in a couple of weeks. I invited the both of you and thought you’d enjoy yourself.” He grinned at Veronica. “I’ve gotten married myself, to a beautiful woman that you may know.” Veronica returned his smile. “Well anyway, It would mean so much to me and Bethany if both of you attended. Of course it is informal, just friends enjoying the evening.” He took her hand again and gave it one more lingering kiss before lifting his chin at Kristoff. “I really hope you decide to come.” With that he showed himself out. Kristoff immediately turned and wrapped both his arms around Veronica.
“He seemed nice.”
Closing his eyes, Kristoff let his cheek rest on the top of her head and inhaled her vanilla scent. “Andre is many things, but I don’t know if nice is one of them.” What he did know was that he wanted to keep her all to himself, sheltering her from the world and the pain that came with it. It wasn’t lost on him that he was dangerously close to suffocating her with his protectiveness. He knew he couldn’t keep her locked away, hidden from the dangers that surrounded them.
“Do you not want to go to his party?” At her question he leaned back and looked down at her.
“Why do you say that?”
She shrugged and then said, “I don’t know. You just seemed very tense.” He smiled. She was an observant little thing.
He didn’t want to keep her from experiencing things, from going places and meeting people. That would only lead to her resentment of him and that was something he wouldn’t be able to live with. They were close already, sharing things about one another in the early morning hours, admitting their hopes and fears. Just this morning she had confided in him that she worried about being forgotten, about being another person that was overlooked. Her statement led him to believe her life had been one of loneliness, despite having family around. That had been his life the past two years.
“Do you want to go?” She bit her bottom lip with her small, straight white teeth. Bending down, he didn’t fight the urge to drag his tongue along the same plump, red flesh she had just been worrying. She moaned against his mouth and he slipped his tongue inside, stroking it along hers. He drew the little muscle into his mouth and then the little minx did the same to his. She took control and he let her, because the fact that this slip of a woman wanted to control the situation turned him on immensely.
He led her to the couch and pressed her back to the plush cushions. Her legs spread wide and he fit his hips between hers. He planned on taking her in every room in every single way imaginable. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but the time frame didn’t matter much because he had the rest of his life to have her screaming out his name over and over again.
Chapter Ten
Veronica made her way toward the small room that she knew was in the farthest part of the house, hidden from windows and the light. Over the last two weeks she and Kristoff had been getting to know each other. She was comfortable with him, so comfortable that it was like they had known each other for years instead of days. It was strange, she knew this, but whatever was between them was real and strong. He was a shattered soul with a broken past and all she wanted to do was ease his pain and make him whole again.
She rounded the corner and skidded to a stop when she saw Stephen coming toward her. His head was down as he messed with wires coming off a small black box. He glanced up, and his dark, cold eyes seemed to appraise her. Just before he passed he stopped and looked down at her. He was so close she could smell the faint scent of oil and sweat. She should have moved but something inside of her told her to stay very still. It was almost like she was some kind of prey trying to not make any sudden movements in front of the predator.
"Madam." His voice was deceptively soft, reassuring. Veronica kept her eyes averted, and refused to look at him because when she did a warning bell inside of her went off. Ever since seeing him in Kristoff's office, there had been an uneasy feeling burning inside of her. Beads of sweat started to coat the back of her neck and she took a step away, needing air to breathe. Being uncomfortable around him was an understatement.
"Have a lovely day."
Licking her parched lips, she muttered her thanks and hurried off to her destination. Once inside the darkroom she shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She was acting ridiculous. Stephen had never done or said anything to her that would warrant her to have this kind of reaction. Had she been so sheltered from life that this was her response to others? No, it can't be. She didn't feel this way around any of the other staff members. She turned off the interior light and flicked on the one that shone red. Kristoff had taken her into the darkroom several days ago, showing her the photos he had taken of her. Everything was digital in this day and age, but Kristoff told her developing his own brought a satisfaction that technology couldn't produce. She had watched in awe as he took a simple piece of photo paper and immersed it in liquid. She felt like a child, full of wonder when the image of her face started to appear right before her.
Maybe she shouldn't be in here, but her curiosity overrode her commonsense. She was analytical by nature and wanted to see the finished product of all the photos Kristoff had taken of her. It seemed whenever she turned around he was there, a large, ancient looking camera in his hand. She had seen pictures of the cameras that were used decades ago, ones that Kristoff seemed to have an abundance of. Veronica also knew what he was doing, though, making new memories because a part of him worried she would disappear, as Macie had. Although they didn't speak of her very often, Veronica knew he had to think of her. How could he not? Her jealousy was still there, of course, and she knew it always would be. Kristoff would have a part of his heart blocked off for his former wife. Veronica was okay with that, because she knew there was enough room in his heart for both of them.
Photos of her and flora and fauna that surrounded their home hung around the room, some in various parts of the developing process. Veronica studied one of the pictures adjacent to her. The memory of when he took that photo washed through her. It had been several days ago when they had taken a walk around the garden. He had shown her the various flowers, some common and some more exotic. They were all so beautiful, vibrant and living. The photo was one of her profile. She was smiling, the happiness clear on her face. As she looked around at the pictures she came to find those of her were all so happy. Was that how Kristoff saw her? She reached up and ran the tip of her finger over one of the dried photos. It was smooth beneath her touch.
Since they had spoken about Macie, Veronica had seen the numerous photos of his former wife slowly starting to be replaced with the new ones he had taken of her. Of course there were still some on the walls, because Veronica didn’t want to rid their home of Macie’s memory. There was no need for him
to remove her from his life and home. She had been a part of it for so long that it almost seemed a sacrilege to erase her. Maybe one day they could sit down and he could tell Veronica all about her, about how she made him happy, about what they had wanted to do in their life. It seemed imperative for Veronica to know this, to know the man he had been with Macie. Maybe it was just asking for pain and heartache, but Veronica didn't think she would be able to fully know her husband unless she found out what he was like back then.
She left the darkroom and continued down the long hallway. Since the weeks she had been here Veronica had explored every part of the mansion. It was grand in every aspect, and despite the affection and time Kristoff spent with her, there were still times she felt lonely. There was always someone around, but the staff didn't converse with her, didn't try to form any kind of bond with her. She anticipated the return of Kristoff and the caresses and kisses he showered her with.
Stepping outside and onto the stone patio, she covered her brow with her hand and scanned the back property. Everything was so beautiful, so immaculate. The grass was a vibrant green and the blooming flowers were healthy and thriving. She spotted Stacia down the sloping hill picking flowers. Stacia had been the only that had really spoken to her on a friendly level, but that seemed so long ago now. Veronica made her way toward the young girl. The sound of her humming grew louder as she approached.
"Hi. Need any help?" Stacia turned around, a startled expression on her face.
"Madam." She looked around and then brought her attention back to Veronica. "Yard work isn't for the Lady of the house." A spark of irritation rose in Veronica. It wasn’t directed at Stacia, but just over the general idea that she wasn't capable of doing any kind of manual labor.
"I can assure you I am more than capable of picking a few flowers." A startled look crossed Stacia's face and then she smiled.
"Yes, Madam, I have no doubts in your abilities. It's just," she looked around again as if whatever she was about to say shouldn't be overheard. Veronica found herself leaning forward. "The last Lady of the house didn't like to get her hands dirty." Stacia looked down at the flowers she held. "She loved the gardens, but the bugs and dirt tended to disagree with her." The smile she graced Veronica with was almost blinding. "But I've noticed how you admire the flowers and I was collecting some for the master suite."
"Would you mind if I stayed with you and picked flowers?" Stacia stared at her for a suspended moment. "It's just I feel myself thinking instead of doing. I'm not used to not doing anything." A smile touched the servant’s face and Veronica felt herself relax.
"Of course you can accompany me." Stacia started walking down the hill toward a patch of red roses. They were quiet for a long time, the only sound, that of nature. But when Veronica's curiosity got the better of her she found herself asking Stacia about Kristoff’s previous wife.
"Can you tell me about Macie?" She could see Stacia tense but she didn't speak or turn around right away. It took her several long moments before the servant said anything.
"I don't know if it is appropriate to speak about the dead, Madam." She still had yet to look at Veronica but she wasn't going to give up that easily. She needed to know things, as sick and demented as that probably seemed, Veronica wanted to know everything, whether Kristoff would tell her or not.
"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but you have to see it from my side. I don't want to pry, and if I ask Kristoff I'm liable to tear open his wounds." Maybe she should just keep her mouth shut? Maybe she should wait until he felt comfortable telling her things about his past instead of resorting to sneaking behind his back and asking the help? Before she could tell Stacia to forget about it she started telling her things Veronica may not have needed to know.
"I remember when Master Kristoff brought home his bride. Everyone thought she was beautiful with her dark hair and shy demeanor. She was kind to everyone while in the Master’s presence, but when he wasn't around she had an icy personality." She inhaled deeply and said, "I shouldn't speak of the dead in such a way, but you want to know so I will tell you all I know. Before Master Kristoff was married he spoke freely with us. He's a good man and Master of the house, but his wife would remind us on a daily basis that we were the help and should act as such."
Veronica didn't know what to say, so instead she just continued to follow Stacia as she made her way through the thick patch of roses. She'd stop every once in a while and cut an especially beautiful rose and place it in the basket filled with the other flowers.
"It didn't take the staff very long to realize that in Madam Macie's presence it was best if we just kept to our work. I know Master Kristoff noticed a change in us, but we were respectful of his new wife and so we followed her wishes." Stacia bent down and smelled a lovely yellow rose right before she snipped the stem. "If we made you feel uncomfortable with our silence it wasn't our intention. For five years we learned to keep our head down and simply do our work. Nothing changed after she passed––in fact, it got worse. Master Kristoff became a recluse with his emotions. He came and went to and from work, only eating when we brought his food to the master suite, and that was if he was even home. We had grown so worried about him, but we didn't want to overstep our places and inquire about what we could do to help. Many of his friends and colleagues came by during the next two years, and finally he started coming around, going out of the house for other occasions than work. Then he informed us he was marrying again, buying a new bride." Stacia looked over at her, shielding her eyes from the sun and smiling. "We saw the light in his eyes again when he brought you home. It was wonderful. Our Master was back and the house felt alive again." She dropped her voice low and leaned toward Veronica. "I would never admit this to another person, but you're asking and I believe you deserve to know, but there was tension in the house months before Madam Macie passed on."
"Tension?"
Stacia nodded. "Well, she was a very demanding Madam. Everything had to be just right or she would go into fits of anger. Even Master Kristoff witnessed this, but it didn't matter what he said or did, nothing seemed to appease her. I hated seeing a look of defeat come over him." Stacia smiled sadly and started heading back toward the house. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have divulged such private matters."
"Maybe not, but then again I was the one that cornered you and all but forced you to tell me." Veronica reached for the flowers and Stacia looked at her surprised. "Please, let me help. I feel so useless." It took her a few moments but finally she relinquished the basket.
They made their way back to the house and Veronica took the beautiful arrangement of flowers to her bedroom. The splash of color with the masculine decor seemed to bring life to the room. She stared at those flowers and couldn't help but think of how her family was doing. They had been so happy when she finally went to the auction block. Was that the reason they had children in the first place, to be sold to the highest bidder? No doubt they got a hefty amount for her. Of course she would never know how much Kristoff paid, but she knew it had to be enough that her family would never want for anything again. That was the thing with their society now. It made no difference to them if human lives were nothing more than a bartering tool. What must it have been years ago, before the auctions? She learned enough through her teachings to know that even though there had been the selling of humans, it was illegal. Now there were parties thrown in preparation of such things. It seemed so barbaric to Veronica, but she was but a small voice in a very large crowd. This was the world she lived in and she reminded herself that being with Kristoff was like nothing she had ever experienced. He was kind and compassionate, loving and tender. His touches lit her on fire, and when it was all said and done his kisses cooled her into relaxation. But in the end none of that mattered because she was where she belonged, in love with the man that had bought her.
****
They sat in silence––the only sound, that of silverware clanking against the china. When Kristoff had come home he knew something was
different with Veronica. She was quieter than usual, and every look she gave him was from behind the fall of her golden hair.
"Are you sure you're okay, sweetheart?" He lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a long drink as he watched her over the rim. She glanced up at him and smiled. Thankfully, it was sincere.
"Yes, I'm fine. I've just been thinking."
He didn't know if that was good or bad. Over the past few weeks he had been slowly putting his past behind him. Pictures of Macie were coming down and being replaced by the woman who now consumed every aspect of his life. Kristoff watched her in silence as she finished her meal. The sight of her lips forming around the rim of the glass had a fire burning inside of him. That was all it took, just one look at her and he was as hard as steel.
"Come here, baby."
She licked her lips and he suppressed a groan. Did she not know that when she did things like that he wanted to rip her clothes off and have his wicked way with her? She stood from her seat and moved toward him. When she was close enough for him to reach he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. With her so close, her mouth only inches away, her warm breath smelling of the sweet white wine she just finished, Kristoff fought every natural instinct that roared out he claim her, make her know that she was his and he wouldn't let her go.
"Do you want to talk about what's been on your mind?" He wanted her to open up to him, to know that he was here for her no matter what. He didn't want to pressure her so he sat there, holding her in his lap as he waited patiently for her to speak. She dropped her head and a thick strand of her hair fell forward. Kristoff leaned forward, and inhaled the soft fragrance of roses that came from the locks. Pushing the hair off her shoulder, he brought his lips to her neck and kissed her right below the ear. Smooth skin greeted his mouth, and when he opened and dragged his tongue along her flesh, a burst of sweet flavor assaulted his taste buds. Suppressing another groan, he knew this moment wasn't about his physical gratification. This was about her opening up to him.
