Vienna Bliss

by Lila Dubois

  “More commands?” But she went to him, sliding back into his arms.

  “Can you sleep in those clothes?”

  “Do you have a t-shirt and some boxers I can borrow?”

  “You…want to sleep in my underwear.”

  “Clean ones, you pervert. But yes, boxers aren’t that different from sleep shorts.”

  “What are sleep shorts?” Alexander guided her down the hall, past the opening of the alcove where the massive bed waited, the comforter a beautiful shade of moss green, the pillows creamy white.

  A recessed door opened into a large combination closet and dressing room. Most of the hanging space was bare, but there were a few zipped garment bags near the back. His suitcase, the one he’d brought from Vienna, was tucked into a corner.

  Alexander opened a few drawers. Everything inside was tidy, and Alena felt weirdly jealous. Who had folded and put away his clothes?

  He kept going, until he found a drawer which contained items still wrapped in tissue. He passed her a dove gray shirt so soft that it felt like silk, and a pair of black boxers, which actually were silk.

  “Alexander, I know you’re wealthy, but please tell me you don’t buy designer underwear and t-shirts.” She pointed to the small circular sticker bearing the distinctive LV that had held the tissue around the boxers closed.

  “I don’t. But my valet, who buys all my clothes, might.”

  He closed the drawers, then turned to her. “I will give you…But I think I. I.”

  Alena waited quietly, though inside she was anxious to change and crawl into that bed.

  Alexander paused, then said, “I will give you privacy to get changed but I’d like to check on your bruises.”

  “Admire your handiwork?” she asked with a wink.

  He flinched, even fell back a step.

  “It was a joke, suga’.”

  “I, I will, um, go.” Alexander walked to the closet door and let himself out.

  Shit.

  Alena stripped and avoided looking at her ass in the mirror, since sometimes seeing the marks made them hurt more. She hung her clothes over the hanging rod, since there were no extra hangers, and then padded, barefoot, out into the suite.

  “I’m using your toothbrush,” Alena declared as she walked by him. Alexander was standing at the sideboard, drinking something amber colored from a short glass.

  “Sometimes there are extra supplies—”

  “Don’t care, using yours.”

  He snorted in laughter as she walked away.

  She didn’t actually use his toothbrush. She found the extras—an expensive electric still in its box. She plugged it in to charge while she washed her face and brushed her hair—there was a beautiful boar bristle brush also still in its box that she opened, which did a good job smoothing down all the flyaway bits. She brushed her teeth.

  The collar was still around her neck. She’d gotten rid of the scarf, leaving it with her clothes, so the leather was visible. She turned it around so the lock was at the front, then opened the bathroom door.

  He’d turned off most of the lights in the room, so the space was instead lit by the glow of the moon that spilled in the windows. From where she stood, she could see out one window and in another to the bed alcove, which was lit with a pale glow.

  On bare feet, Alena made her way over.

  Alexander was standing beside the bed and looking at his phone in nothing but low-slung black pajama pants. He looked almost gilded in this light, and she couldn’t help herself.

  Alena walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, laying her cheek on his bare back. Alexander put down his phone and lay his hands over hers. His thumbs rubbed the back of her hands and she closed her eyes.

  “I know we should talk,” she murmured.

  “You need sleep more than I need answers.”

  If their positions had been reversed, she wasn’t sure she would have had the patience he was showing.

  Alexander pulled back the covers for her.

  Alena climbed in, then gingerly lay on her stomach. Her ass had stopped throbbing thanks to the pills, but she still felt rather battered and fragile. The source of that feeling could have been either physical or emotional. Either way, the feeling persisted, at least until Alexander circled the bed and climbed in.

  He lay on his side and carefully pulled the covers up to her shoulders. His fingers pushed her hair back and touched the collar.

  Alena turned her head on the pillow so she could watch him watch her. His hand, now atop the covers, stroked her back and she sighed, eyes closing.

  Alexander lay back, not touching her, but close enough she could feel his body heat.

  They’d never slept together, yet it felt comfortable, somehow right.

  But as Alena drifted off, one thought kept repeating in her head.

  Not all damage could be repaired.

  And not all lies could be forgiven.

  Chapter 2

  The light woke her. Alena propped up on her elbows and turned to glare at the window. When she moved, Alexander rolled over.

  He murmured something in German, but her sleep-addled brain couldn’t translate.

  “Curtains?” she asked.

  Alexander grunted, and, eyes closed, reached up and pressed on the carved headboard. Blackout shades lowered on all the windows.

  Alena leaned over enough to see that a switch had been hidden in the carvings on the headboard. Alexander’s hand cupped her neck and tugged. She shifted as he guided her to lay her head on his chest.

  He was warm, deliciously so, and once she was settled on his chest, he pulled the covers up to her shoulders.

  Alena closed her eyes, trying to fall back into sleep, but in those few moments she’d had her eyes open, her brain had woken up.

  In the literal light of dawn, the complexity—and ramifications—of everything that had happened crashed down on her.

  She waited until Alexander’s breathing had evened out and then slid out of the bed. Shivering a little she went to the closet, pulling on yesterday’s clothes. She found an ocean-blue knit sweater among the new clothes tucked in the drawers. Alexander would look beautiful in that color. His valet was excellent at his job.

  Alena pulled the sweater on over her blouse and rolled up the sleeves.

  Just before she left the closet, she turned her back to the full length mirror and pulled up her skirt.

  Her ass was a mess of maroon and purple bruises. No wonder tugging on her panties hurt. She adjusted them, hissing as even that small motion caused some discomfort, then headed for the bathroom.

  Three more pills, teeth brushed, toilet used, and it was time to deal with the absolute mess she’d made when she’d fallen in love.

  Remembering that she’d told him she loved him, which he had not said in turn, made her cheeks heat. At least for now, it would be better if she pretended that the only reason he hadn’t said it back was that Rolf and his minions had interrupted their moment.

  Alena opened the door and stepped out, then paused. The curtains were up, and Alexander was out of bed and standing at the window, looking out over the preserve. Though his image was somewhat obscured by looking through not one, but two panes of glass, the sight of him made her breath catch, her heart race.

  She hadn’t felt this fluttery excitement since she was young, when being near someone was enough to quicken her pulse and make her heart beat fast with “what ifs”.

  What if he holds my hand? What if he kisses me?

  She’d considered herself cynical and world-wise back then, but those feelings had been innocent and pure. As she’d grown older, emotional cynicism had taken over, and more often than not she found herself not excited but rather resigned to the awkwardness and uncertainty that came with dating.

  Much better to skip to the sex, which was usually far more honest than those awkward get-to-know-you conversations over a cup of rapidly cooling coffee.

  Alexander made her feel lighter, almost�
�pure?

  Which was completely insane, given that her body was black and blue thanks to the S&M beating he’d given her yesterday.

  Alena walked around to join him. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they looked out over the preserve.

  “Food,” Alexander said after a while.

  “Food. Defined as things people and animals eat in order to remain alive.”

  “Ha, ha,” he muttered. “We didn’t have dinner.”

  The bit of toothpaste she’d accidentally swallowed was burning a hole in her stomach. The idea of actual sustenance was deeply appealing.

  “No, we didn’t.” Alena turned to him and touched his arm, so Alexander too shifted his attention away from the view. “If you can get us to the kitchen, I can scramble eggs and we can talk.”

  “I will ring for breakfast.”

  He went to the door, and picked up a phone from the console table nearby. He spoke into it for a few moments.

  Alena had used that time to pour them each a glass of still water.

  He joined her at the sideboard and they sipped. As they did, Alena studied Alexander, her mind running through possibilities.

  “What question do you want to start with?” she asked.

  “Breakfast will be here soon.”

  “Ah ha. I knew it.” She set aside her glass then grabbed his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You dragged us halfway across Europe to get answers, and now you don’t want them. Why?”

  His gaze slid from her face to her neck.

  To the collar.

  She froze.

  There was a brief knock on the door, and then one of the older women wheeled in a cart. She quickly set a two-person table positioned under one of the windows and deposited plates on the sage green tablecloth. A pot of coffee, another of tea, and various jars and pots were added, then the woman wheeled the cart out and closed the door.

  Alexander held her chair out for her, and Alena sat, hissing as she did.

  Alexander froze. “Your, ahem, backside.”

  “My ass. You can call it my ass.”

  “It still hurts?”

  “It’s black and blue.”

  Alexander winced and dropped heavily into his chair. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” Alena wanted to shake him. “You’re a sadist, I’m a masochist. A bruised ass is neither unexpected, nor a mistake.”

  “Bruising isn’t—”

  “Bruises, having them, and giving them, are a fetish. If they’re one of yours, no judgment from me.”

  Finally, he smiled. “No, that particular item is not one of my fetishes.”

  Alena took a roll that seemed to be halfway between a croissant and a bun, and split it with her knife. Alexander picked up his utensils too.

  They ate in silence, not because she didn’t want to talk, and clearly they needed to discuss more than just the investigation.

  The silence was, at least on her part, because after the first bite she was ravenous, and ate her way through a plate of eggs, thick sausage, and two of the odd bread pastries slathered in a tangy orange jam.

  He finished first, and sat back, watching her. She speared the second half of her sausage with her fork, lifted it, and bit off the tip.

  Alexander shook his head and drank his coffee, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  When she was full, Alena refilled her teacup and glanced at him, brow raised. “Ready to talk?”

  Alexander nodded, a tight motion, then rose and came to help her from her chair. At the very end of the longer part of the room was a glass door that let them out onto the same massive patio where they’d attempted to have dinner last night.

  She hadn’t noticed this door, probably thanks to the potted tree that partially obscured the door. Yesterday she also hadn’t noticed the stairs that led down to the ground level.

  That’s where Alexander led them.

  On the ground floor, several seating areas were clustered under the protection of the patio above. A basket by one of the square wooden column held rolled up blankets, one of which Alexander grabbed.

  She hadn’t stopped to put on shoes, but the ground they stepped onto was soft with grass. Alexander led them to a spot where the more manicured grass gave way to the taller reeds. He spread the blanket, a thick woven one that worked well as ground cover, out under a tree. This early, there was very little shade to be had because of the angle of the sun so they sat with their backs to the dawn, though after only a second Alena opted to prop herself up on one hand to take her weight off her side and hip.

  “What do I need to know?” Alexander asked softly.

  Alena glanced at him as he sat beside her. The sun was at his back, painting his dark hair with gold light. His features were somewhat shadowed, his expression almost stoic.

  Her black knight.

  A ridiculous, romantic fantasy, but one that seemed all too real, all too right.

  “That’s your question?”

  “Will you answer it?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded in reply.

  Her heart, her stupid, stupid heart, thudded in her chest and a wave of emotion swept over her. She didn’t know what to call this feeling—joyous relief? Or was it simply love?

  She’d used this wonderful man, first as a way to get information, then for her own pleasure. Used him because she hadn’t been able to walk away from the way he made her feel.

  And now he was forgiving her, far more simply and quickly than she could have ever dared hope.

  It took her a moment to fight through the emotions enough to speak.

  “Thank you, Alexander.”

  “For?” He was still looking out at the water.

  “For trusting me.”

  There was silence, then he quietly said, “I don’t trust you.”

  Alena jerked back, sitting up, which in turn sent stabs of pain through her butt. “Then why did you just ask me to tell you what I thought you needed to know?”

  Finally he turned to look at her, and his face was a cool mask, the man who’d slept beside her, eaten breakfast with her, gone. She was looking at Alexander the billionaire, the powerful, cold CEO.

  “Which information you chose to give me would tell me as much as the information itself.”

  Alena hurt, and not just from her bruised backside. It felt like he’d stabbed her, like she’d shifted close to him, ready for a romantic kiss only to find a knife sliding between her ribs.

  Alena pushed to her feet.

  “Running away?” he asked mildly.

  She turned to look at the water. “No, just taking a minute.”

  “A minute to do what?”

  To stop being such a heartbroken idiot.

  Of course he hadn’t forgiven her for all the lies. The intimacy of yesterday and last night must have, at least on his part, burned away with the dawn.

  “How were you planning to verify my information?” Alena turned, a small smile on her face. The perfect mask for her hurt.

  Alexander’s lips twitched in a frown, and he rose to his feet.

  “Couldn’t handle having your head lower than mine, your highness?”

  His jaw muscle clenched. Good. She’d prefer him pissed to stoic.

  “And please do answer my other question. What makes you think you’d be able to verify anything I say? You think Rolf will tell you?” Alena tsked. “Suga’, I work with people several levels above his pay grade.”

  “Do not underestimate me.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t underestimate me.”

  Alexander got into her personal space. She held her ground, at least until he bumped into her, forcing her to take a step back or risk tipping over.

  Another bump, another step back. The third time, her back hit the tree trunk.

  He had her practically pinned against the hard tree, which made him the rock. A little thrill of anticipation and fear lanced through her. She tipped her head back, felt the bark dig into her scalp.


  “Schoolyard bully tactics should be beneath you, Mr. Wagner.”

  He braced his hands on either side of her head. “Pushing me is a bad idea, Ms. Moreau.”

  Their gazes met, held, and Alena wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or slap him.

  There was a third option, and that was the one she took. She released the anger she’d pulled up like a shield, closed her eyes, and leaned her head forward. Her forehead rested on his shoulder and she sighed.

  Alexander was tense for only a moment, then his posture softened and he pulled her away from the tree and against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as he did.

  “What are we doing?” she asked softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What changed, between the bedroom and here?” She adjusted, fitting her body against his more comfortably.

  “I reminded myself that I shouldn’t trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t,” she agreed softly. “But I wish you would.”

  Alexander tentatively stroked her hair. “Then you’ll have to give me a reason to.”

  “I trusted you with my body.”

  “And I abused you. So why would you trust me again, and in turn, I mean then as a result, I probably shouldn’t…” He trailed off, his chest expanding under her cheek as he took a deep breath.

  “I know what you meant,” Alena slid out from between him and the tree. “But I do trust you, Alexander, even if my ass is black and blue.” She glanced at him. “That was a joke. It’s more maroon and purple.”

  He winced. “I was too hard on you.”

  “Maybe, but I needed it.”

  “I don’t often allow myself…”

  “You don’t often allow yourself to be a sadist, do you?”

  “No. It’s too dark.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a little, or a lot, fucked up.”

  At that, he laughed, finally turning to face her.

  “Should we sit down and try again?” Alena asked.

  Alexander nodded, then sat on the blanket. As she lowered herself, he put his hands on her waist, guiding her down.

  Alena stretched out on her side, facing him, and propped her head up with one hand. Alexander’s gaze slid over her, lingering for a moment on his collar, which was still around her neck.