Buzz kill.
I rear back slighted and pickle my face. “I hope you know that’s not why I said yes. I don’t need gifts or your money.”
Huffing, he raises an eyebrow. “I’ve seen your financials and your mom is drowning in bills.”
An explosion of anger shoots from my gut and out my mouth. “Fuck you, Bryson! I’m not a gold-digger and I’m not your paid-for whore,” I spit back wrenching loose from his grip. “I’m just trying to stay alive.”
Bryson gives the shop lady two fifty kuna bills and lowers his brow. A few tourists raise their eyes as they witness our altercation. Embarrassment reddens my cheeks as I bolt from the shop.
Quick on my heels, he sputters, “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I’ll take care of your family and once you graduate from Baylor, you’ll come work for me.”
“You know, you keep talking about this engagement like it’s real. Well it’s not, so stop making real plans for our fake future.”
I must not have said that out loud because he simply smiles. “What?” I question watchfully.
“You don’t want to work for one of the largest tech companies in the world?”
Canary-eating mother fucker.
“With you?” I ask, pointing to him like I don’t care. Even though I do. I really, really, really do. Admittedly, a job with Seviride Industries is a dream job—a guaranteed career maker. Providing I’m alive and there’s still a company to work for.
He threads his fingers with mine and swings my hand, pulling me away from the dress shop. “I’m always looking for smart people and who better than my sexy new wife?”
“Stop saying that! Besides,” I shake my head and grin, “that’s nepotism.”
“Not if I start you in the mailroom and you work your way up,” he says straight-faced looking forward. “No one has to know you’re sleeping your way to the top.”
“Strattone,” I say again.
WHEN WE GET back to the room, I hang up my new pretty dresses in the closet and kick off my flats. I wanted to browse all the local shops and get souvenirs, but Bryson dragged me into a fancy jewelry shop instead. He replaced my local traditional beaded necklace I got from a street vendor with a long white gold chain that had bezel set round diamonds.
“If you insist on dressing like a farm girl, I insist on you having jewelry that contradicts such a notion,” he said pompously. Then he bought the matching stud earrings.
Who would have ever thought two carat diamonds in each ear would be so heavy? Thank goodness he let me talk him out of the six carat ones. I’d have to wear a neck brace to keep my head up. I don’t know how rappers and sports athletes do it. Though I have trouble ensuring the long necklace doesn’t get caught on things and choke me out, I do love the earrings. The way the rounds are cut, catch the light and I can see a rainbow of colors reflected.
Bryson is shaking a man’s hand and walking him to the door as I enter the living room.
Exhaustion threatens to take me down, but I latch on to the diversion. “Who was that?” I ask when he returns.
“My lawyer. Well, our lawyer. He’s getting paperwork together. I want to have everything ready before the big day.” Bryson has an atypical bounce to his step. It’s kind of fucking adorable.
“Pre-nup?” I laugh.
He smiles. “Something like that,” he says evasively, wrapping his arms around me.
I look at him with playful suspiciousness. “What are you up to?”
“Who? Me? I’m innocent. I’m an angel. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s grab some food. You must be starving!” he says pushing me out the door.
OUR LATE LUNCH/EARLY dinner arrives at the seaside table and it smells delicious. Bryson ordered for me since I have no clue about Croatian cuisine. My Croatian Brodet steamed in a seafood bouquet makes my mouth drool. Fish Stew is perfect for the semi-chilly day. His Zagrebački odrezak of breaded veal stuffed with ham and cheese looks good too so I fork a slice from his plate.
“You should go to the meeting tonight to keep up appearances,” I tell him when a dessert of crepes called Palačinke arrives. I pause, then after the waiter leaves, I finish my statement, “I’ll get a hold of Dawson the DEA guy, and work out a deal.”
Bryson finishes half of his Palačinke before he speaks. With the soft white napkin, he dabs his mouth, leans back into his chair and folds his arms watching me. “All business, aren’t you.”
Getting up, I walk over to him and sit in his lap, “We have to have a plan, Bryson. Can’t just play it by ear and Dawson can help. I need to do this for us.”
He looks up to the sky in thought. “Tell you what. I’ll make the deal, if you agree to marry me for real.”
“Wait, like for real-for real?” Immediately, my family, my friends, and my future at Baylor come to mind. Agreeing to marry Bryson is the only way he’ll deal with the DEA. A future with Bryson or no future at all, what choice do I have? I could be dead by tomorrow, if I don’t agree.
Yet to be perfectly honest, I’m a bit stunned. Not because of his proposal, but because he’s seriously still wants me despite everything he now knows.
Releasing my lips from between my teeth, I deflate with an exhale. “Okay, when we get home, we’ll get married for real,” I capitulate.
Picking me up as if this is the first time I agreed to marry him, he swings me around. His eyes fill with elation and mine tear up as well. Mostly because this may be the last happy moment I can give him.
We both laugh like idiots and cause a scene in the restaurant, but he doesn’t care. “Bryson! Put me down!” We plop back down into his chair, me again on his lap.
“Hey Hennessey! Want to be my best man?” he shouts to Henn who is standing with Jason guarding the open veranda doors. Henn purses his lips into a scowl. “Yeah, sure.”
My future husband chuckles and turns back to me. “We’ll be so happy, I promise! I will give the world to you!” He twists his fingers in my hair staring up at me. “My God, you are stunning! You know I’ll do anything you want.”
I flow with the impulse of my intentions and kiss him. A smoldering desire slowly seeps through my body. Fingertips fall on my back under my shirt, the other hand gliding up between my thighs.
With a deep inhale, I lean in to whisper, “Let’s go back to the room.”
Bryson throws down two 500 kuna banknotes on the table and we practically run through the lobby, hopping on the first elevator. We stand squeezing each other’s hands, breathing hard and trying to stay calm amongst the other elevator riders. The strange looks we’re getting animate an uncontrolled giggle.
“Why did we have to get a room on the top floor?” he whispers in my ear sending tingles up my body. The throbbing between my legs is so strong, I scissor my knees as if I have to pee. I can’t contain another wave of giggling, I can’t imagine what the two of us look like to others.
Once the doors blessedly finally open, we push through before they completely separate and race to the room. Bryson fumbles with the key card making the delay excruciating.
“Come on, come on!” I encourage, bouncing on my toes.
We burst into the room undressing and kissing each other, famished for skin and touch.
“Wait, wait,” he says grabbing the Do Not Disturb door hanger and hangs it on the outer doorknob.
He turns to me and smiles at my astonished expression. Lit candles of all sizes cast soft shadows in the room. Lilies and roses in every color fill the room with rose petals layering the floor. Soft music plays from somewhere as he approaches me.
I close my eyes as my heart is bursting with overwhelming happiness. With moist eyes, I gaze at Bryson. “When did you do all of this?”
Delight lights his face over his successful surprise. “I told Henn to have the Concierge do it before I ordered dessert. Timing is everything,” he beams.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tenderly touch my lips to his. Irrepressible words spill. “I truly love you.” They are hon
est words, pure, simple and easy on my tongue. I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.
The rapture is filled with each decadent touch of our bodies coming together. He explores every inch of my supple body, paying special attention to the places that cause a loud exhale of pleasure. The sighs and gasps are those of exultation and bliss. My hands caress his defined abdomen moving down to encourage his excitement. I feel his solid virility between my fingertips as I caress and stroke him. His mouth is like the sweetest honey. I cannot get enough of him.
I get to kiss him forever.
I surrender as my tongue teases his. When he enters me, it’s like a dam breaking; relief mixed with ecstasy and a sensual carnality raising a scream of gratitude. Bryson buries his head in the crook of my neck as he heaves in upward motions, which I echo with vocal acceptance. His steamy breath escalates my fervor into a bonfire. The flames lick through me as I match his movements, intensifying our vigorous connection.
Hooking one leg around him, I set the other to assist the angle of my pelvis in such a way allowing him to go deeper, taking me beyond ecstasy. It is a euphoric celebration of our passion for one another.
Completely spent, we lie in each other’s arms talking, kissing and oblivious to time in our own little world. Bryson tells me about his nonna’s villa in Italy and the beautiful coastal villages there. “It’s the perfect place to raise kids.”
Talk of children triggers my discomfort. “Let’s get through the weekend before we talk about starting a baseball team, okay? Remember, I just turned eighteen and I still want to go to Baylor.”
I’ve never considered starting a family as part of my future, especially with the way Marvy feels about kids. And now with the new alters, who knows how well that would play out.
“I forget how old you are, sorry Tesoro. Your maturity is deceptive. Let’s talk about Baylor when I get back. I should shower and get dressed,” he says, letting me go and pushes off the bed.
There is a sting in my heart watching him get out of bed. “Just make sure you come back to me,” I say.
Immediately, I regret it and close my eyes. The words have a tinge of recognition all of their own; Alex’s words to me once upon a time.
Bryson leans over and kisses the top of my head. “Always my love. Now go call your Agent Dawson so we can start our lives over together. Don’t use the hotel phone, use my cell.”
The tenseness in my face eases at the thought of our lives together. A life without Alex, but I suppose that was never meant to be. Regardless of what I felt for Alex, it doesn’t hold a candle to what I have with Bryson.
Smiling, I flop back to the bed, reaching for the dissipating body heat of my absent Bryson for comfort. When that side of the bed goes cold, I pick up Bryson’s phone dialing the U.S. country code and Dawson’s number. The phone rings for a while which I find odd. I know his office phone forwards to his cell, so he should have picked up.
Since a robotic recorded greeting prompts to leave a message, I decide to leave simple facts. “Hi Agent Dawson, It’s Tri…uh Marvy. I hope Alex filled you in and you’re on your way here. We’re staying at Hotel Usejava in room 2601. Bryson is meeting with Andrijica Simic tonight and we could really use your help. Thanks and please call me.”
Shit. We’re kind of fucked if they don’t get that message.
A BREEZE CARRIES music spiraling up from the street filling the room with a celebratory spirit and wakes me. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I go to the balcony and shuffle to a stop with what I see. A massive procession with a group of handsomely dressed men, one of them carries the Croatian flag while another man plays an accordion as everyone sings. They turned the corner out of view, turning my smile upside down.
My heart jumps when Bryson hurries into the room. “Get showered and dressed!” he says, pointing to a delicate lace dress and shoes already laid out.
A rush of panic washes over me. “What is it?” I ask.
Bryson blooms an immense smile. “Nothing bad, just get yourself all prettied up! We have to be somewhere soon.” He runs over like a four-year old at Christmas and gives me a peck on the cheek, then hands me an apple with kuna and lipa coins splitting the red skin. “This is for you.”
Holding up the apple, I give him a questioning look. “Oh sorry, sorry, let me explain. In Croatia it is called an obiljezje, a symbol for our new life to be fruitful and rich. Bring it with you.”
Baffled, but loving his excitement, I quickly run to the bathroom. While in the shower, I can hear music coming from inside our suite and a buzz of people’s chatter. I put a touch of make-up on and get dressed after doing my hair in a pretty bun. The commotion from the living room is infectious. With a big smile, I try to hurry putting the white flats with the weird elf-like toes on. I grab the apple and skip out my room toward the good vibes.
There are so many people throughout the living room and kitchen area there is hardly room to move. It astonishes me when I walk in, but everyone sees me through the crowd and cheers, lifting wine glasses. Someone I do not know raises my arm holding the apple.
“Ona je rekla da!” he exclaims and the crowd raises their vocal applause again. The man happily hands me a glass of something that tickles my nose with the bubbles when I take a sip. I am neither a connoisseur, nor social drinker, but I know wine when I smell and taste it. I never knew wine could have effervescent bubbles though. The man grins and cheerfully gulps his glass of bubbly wine down. When in Rome and all that, but I simply nod my head and take another sip. “Gemišt,” he says, pouring himself another glass.
“Bless you,” I reply chuckling, raising my near full glass. Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Croatian.
I can smell delicious food that wafts from the kitchen. My jaw drops when I see there is no open space on the counters and table as it is literally the biggest spread I’ve ever seen.
Accordion music plays again and people start to sing an unfamiliar tune in their own native language. Bryson surprises me, coming from behind and wrapping his arms around me, swaying us back and forth to the music. “It’s not completely traditional, but I’m improvising!” he says as loudly as he can over the music and joviality in the room.
“What tradition are you talking about?” I yell back.
He dances and spins me around, smirking like a fool. I admit, I’ve got a fool-like expression myself.
Still bemused, I ask him, “Who are all these people? Why are they here?”
He holds my hand carrying the apple up in the air and announces, “Ona je rekla da!” Again, the room booms with cheers. “They are here to celebrate us!” he ecstatically grins.
Shaking my head in confusion, I ask him, “What does ‘ona je rekla da’ mean? It obviously makes everyone happy.”
“It means you said, yes! You’ve got to try some of this amazing food! You’ll need to fuel up for a big day!”
Big day?
I’m pulled over to the table and assaulted with a plate shoved in my hand. “What do you mean, I said yes? And what big day do we have?”
My questions go unanswered as different women in traditional dress pile food on my plate from all directions. I try to politely refuse, but they just smile and continue to fatten me up like Gretel from the Brothers Grimm story.
The finest Croatian delicacies available pack every surface in the kitchen, though some are not so visually appetizing. Bryson keeps putting samples of different dishes on my plate too, insisting I “try this one.” He rolls his eyes and looks like he has heaven on his tongue. “Oh my God, it’s so good!”
Although I only nibble a bit from everything, I’m getting stuffed pretty fast, but he is right, the food is amazing!
When we first arrived, I was in awe over the enormity of the suite with the four bedrooms, a sitting room, living room, kitchen, and three bathrooms, but today I might as well be in a New York City studio apartment with as many people as there are in here. I wonder if Croatia has a fire code because I’m posit
ive we’re over the maximum allowed. Over in the corner, Hennessey and Jason are also joining in on the celebratory mood. I recognize the lawyer from the previous day, and I’m a tad puzzled by the fact that quite a few hotel guest are also filling their plates. I recognize the old couple from the elevator too. Awkward. Everyone has such a joyful spirit; I can’t help but just enjoy the happy celebration surrounding me and not mind the strangers feasting with us.
Not soon after I finish eating, a little girl in a white dress comes up to me and tugs on my hand encouraging me to go with her. I don’t see Bryson amongst the party guests as the little girl, and a few other young ladies, escort me to the elevator. Another strange thing to note for the morning, all my elevator companions are dressed in similar fashion. I’m a bit nervous until I see Hennessey smiling, walking behind them. “Just go with it,” he says. I notice he is dressed in the same suit as Bryson, and so is Jason.
The awaiting limo is covered in flowers with red, white and blue ribbons. “What is this?” I ask Hennessey. The little girl with twinkling eyes hands me a beautiful bouquet of Rosemary with white flowers intertwined and tied with the same color ribbons. Another of my young escorts places a beautiful matching floral halo on my head. A long, flowing veil is attached to it, but the young ladies hold it up so as not to touch the ground.
Oh shit!
I turn to Hennessey, overcome with emotion, and weighted stomach. “Today? How? But my family isn’t here. I can’t.” For one, I just turned eighteen and my mom would totally kill me for multiple reasons. Not to mention Kitta, she’d been planning a dual wedding for us since we were eleven.
“Bryson said you guys would be planning a real wedding once you’re back in the states. He arranged this in a few hours; I can’t imagine what he has up his sleeves for your real wedding when you get home,” he says guiding me into the limo. He kind of has to since my legs are as stunned as I am.
Once inside, he adjusts his suit jacket. “Look, he’s doing this to protect you. The right people here need to know you’re really with him.”
Pieces Of One, Part 2 (The Dark Life Collection) Page 15
