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I didn’t even have the strength to gasp. All I could do was stare at this distraught man in front of me, who looked like an elastic band stretched too thin. Soon, he’d snap and sting my very soul. Sounded dramatic but his imposing presence inspired no less.
Meanwhile, I had to process what the doctor had just said about him. The last thing I remembered was an argument with my mother as we were just about to board the plane to Europe. She told me she wanted me to be more outgoing, like her friends’ children. Apparently, she was hoping to get me married off to some wealthy man.
Thinking about my mother brought a fresh ache in my heart when my beloved brother’s face popped up in my mind. A good soul lost, because of her prejudices and hate. She’d never loved us … never acted like a real mother. All of a sudden, I was glad she wasn’t here. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to face her.
I struggled to find my voice. “I’m sorry … uh … Dr. Stephens, did you just say this man is my husband?” I asked, because I wanted to be sure, although I heard him perfectly well the first time. I swallowed, doing my damnedest to stave off a bout of nausea. The hair on my arms stood on end and goosepimples appeared. The stranger … my husband? … seemed much older than me—I guessed by at least fifteen years. Something hung in the air between us—a crackle of vibrant energy—and I felt a pull toward him I couldn’t understand. This was crazy.
“He’s right, Marinka. We have been married for over four years,” the man said. He sounded irritated and impatient, reminding me of my mother. His tone sent a chill down my spine, and my stomach fluttered.
“I don’t … I just … I don’t know you,” I blurted out, looking down at my hands. He was making me nervous and my heart was beating way too fast. Everyone knew of my inexperience with men, even my mother often made fun of it, so how could I be married?
Nobody spoke for a while. That Sebastian looked like a grizzly bear about to attack something, his brows furrowed, mouth in a thin line, eyes darkening. I felt so tired all of a sudden, and I couldn’t feel my legs. The nurse told me I hadn’t moved for so long, so this was normal. I was going to need a lot of help, but all these emotions were very draining and all I wanted was to be alone.
“Doctor, can you leave us alone for a few minutes? I need to speak to Marinka in private,” the scary man said.
His tone was authoritarian and strong. Confident, as if he was the type who always got what he wanted. I didn’t even want to look at him, let alone be left on my own with him. I turned my pleading gaze to Dr. Stephens, hoping he’d stay. He smiled warmly.
“Very well then. Mr. Dimitrei, I need you to remember that Marinka’s mind is fragile and five minutes is the maximum I can allow at this point,” he said, before he and the nurse exited the room.
Oh no! Please, no!
This was nerve-wracking and intimidating. I stared down again, then sensed him moving to the chair and positioning it closer to the bed. It was too warm in this room or maybe that was how my body was reacting to this stranger. The temperature most definitely increased and my insides showed a level of energy I couldn’t muster on the outside.
“Look at me, Marinka,” he said gently.
I resisted because I wasn’t ready. When he sat waiting, giving me his full attention, I eventually relented, my gaze meeting his dark, piercing one. He went still, allowing me time to take him all in, and my breath hitched. God, he was so beautiful.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t … I don’t remember you,” I stammered. “I mean … we can’t be married?” The more I looked at him, the more I was convinced it wasn’t possible.
He exhaled sharply and reached out to me, placing his hand on mine. I wanted to pull my hand away, but an electric charge whizzed between us at the touch. If I went purely by this primal response, I’d swear this man wasn’t a stranger at all, but a part of my life. I bit my bottom lip to suppress a sound of delight. What was wrong with me?
“This must be very hard, but a lot of things happened after you got on that yacht with your parents, Marinka.” Yacht? What yacht? “I’m your husband and I’m willing to stay here until you will believe me. Even if you won’t remember anything, I will try my best for you to get to know me again,” he explained, his voice steady and clam.
I truly wanted him to stop touching my hand, but at the same time, I felt bad for him. He seemed so lost and bereft.
God, where was my father? Why wasn’t he here right now?
Truth was, Dad was gone so much, he was like a ghost. I never truly understood, or tried to understand, what he did for a living. Rumors circulated about his business, that it wasn’t all above board. That he hobnobbed with some dangerous and shady people. This man in front of me gave me those kinds of vibes. I wondered if he was connected to that same world as my father.
“What exactly happened on this yacht you mention?” I asked, wishing I could get up and move around. When the physiotherapist showed up and more tests were made, I could hopefully do that.
He entwined his fingers with mine, and I felt myself blushing. No one had ever touched me like that before—no one I could remember—and it was both disconcerting and arousing.
“Your father and I had a disagreement. He had done something terrible that affected my whole business. He owed me a huge favour and eventually, he gave me his permission to marry you, Marinka,” Sebastian explained and as if singed by enemy fire, I pulled my hand away from his, surprising myself that I could move so fast.
“But did I know you? Were we … uh … dating? My father wouldn’t do that. And what sort of business are you talking about?” I demanded to know.
Sebastian just stared at me with the same intensity as he had when he first entered the room. Then, he brought his hand up to his mouth, as if trying to capture the scent of my skin, and closed his eyes. Then, he took a deep inhale. Totally creepy, yet also wickedly hot. There was something inherently wrong with me for thinking that.
I tried to make sense of things. We’d been married for well over four years, possibly five, so he must have spent a lot of time with me here when I was lost to the world. I could just picture him sitting in a chair like that, brooding and forlorn.
He sighed, then tried to grab my hand again, but I pulled back.
“You don’t know much about your parents, teacup, but I will stop here for now,” he stated, and the air left my lungs.
He’d used that nickname I hated so much. The one my mother called me by. Which meant … he couldn’t have known that unless he really was closely acquainted with my family.
“What do you mean? If there’s something I should know, please say it.”
