Chapter twenty eight - The truth is

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When I arrive back home, I turn off the car and just as I get down from the car I notice that Vary’s car isn’t in the car park yet and my heart throbs as I wonder; what if she had changed her mind about the date as the day went on? What if she has a lot of work and assignments and she can’t bail? And what if she doesn’t want to bail from that work and would rather hang me to dry? Never in my life have I been so unsure and insecure, but that’s exactly what Varisha can do to me, and I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse.

I make my way to the door and I’m about to go in when Vary drives in with her car and turns it off after properly parking it; she gets down. Relief and happiness wash over me as I see her and my face breaks into a ridiculous grin, only composing myself when she raises a brow at me.

I silently stare at her as she walks up to me with a smirk, whispering into my ears, “Didn’t think I’d be late, did you?”

Too overcome by emotion unknown, I stay silent and follow her into the house.

“I’ll go shower and get dressed.” I nod wordlessly and stare as she climbs up the stairs and I wonder how I have only noticed what I have now, even when it was here all along.

Vary is a beautiful woman and her body is perfect, not too curvy but curvy enough to fit her medium height. Her looks aren’t the only thing about her, her brain is part of her perfection and her pure heart.

The next hour I change, shower and when I finish dressing up, I walk downstairs to wait for Vary. After half an hour of waiting; I hear Vary’s door open and soon I see her at the top of the stair.

At this moment I forget about the hour and a half I just spent waiting for her because my heart swells in its cage.

As I watch her descend the stair, I can’t help the joy that runs through my whole body. I can’t help admiring her true beauty and grace and her perfect innocence on every side of her. The lace dress is a piece of work, dark blue, almost reaching her knee and her legs in three-inch black heels. I notice her face is having less makeup and her hair she made into a messy bun, and my eyes sweep down her lips, glossy and I force myself to stay in control, so I don’t ignore the date and just take her back into the room and just have my way with her.

Her eyes lift and they soon rest on me. A small smile crossed her face and I can only return a much bigger smile I stretch my hand as she comes down and take her hand into mine.

Shivers run down my spine, and my desire builds and I feel my pants get tight. I look back at the stairs, wondering if going back up to our room, which my mind just suggested, is such a bad idea.

“Sei così bella mia cara! (You’re so beautiful my darling!)” I declare, kissing her hand gently and I feel the way her palm heat in reaction and I only hold myself so I don’t act on what it is I am feeling right now. “Sembri ancora più bella ogni giorno che passa (You look even more beautiful with every passing day.)”

She takes her hand from mine and shyly moves the small hair off her face and bites down on her lips before saying, “Whatever you say, I hope it was a compliment because I do not understand Japanese.”

I roll my eyes and grin widely, “It’s not Japanese, it’s Italian and you look most beautiful tonight, Vary.”

She plants her hand on her hips to give me a little sway from side to side and the dress makes her look like a princess, my princess. “Thanks, I didn’t know that was what all that meant.”

I couldn’t say every word going through my head to her. I know that would only freak her out and I don’t want to do that; no, I don’t want to lose you. Maybe it’s me not wanting to bear too much of myself to her. Maybe I am scared that I might lose her. So it is best to say these words I long to say to her in Italian, which she doesn’t understand and save myself from the fear of the unknown.

“Well, that’s what it meant.” I put my arms around her waist and pull her to myself, “you know I can teach you a few things in Italian.” I tell her as we walk out of the house together.

“I’m a terrible student,” she reveals with a small sad pout that I want nothing but to lean in and kiss off.

We walk towards our car in silence, and Roberto opens the doors for us and we get in and we stay silent as the car moves.

My mouth twitches as I remember the exact reply to contradict the words she’s said a while ago, “You’re not a terrible student, at least not in everything,” A smirk comes on my face and it remains as I watch her fidget with her fingers as though already knowing my next words, “I remember your first class in sex education and for an inexperience student; you did great at the course.”

She gasps out and her eyes dart around in embarrassment. Then suddenly, she smacks my arm and I laugh loudly at her childish act. “You are a sick and dirty-minded jerk.”

“And you’ve got a twisted mind,” I point out, touching her nose with my finger and she scrunches it up in disgust “I’m not talking about sex, but sex education!” I counter briefly.

Nope, I’m talking about sex and memories of our first time are still fresh in my mind and just the mere thought of how responsive she was to my touch and needs gets me hard most times. And the other few times we’ve had sex have given me nothing but pure pleasure.

I see her cheeks heat up the more and she looks outside the window to avoid my eyes and I think that’s cute. “You’re not comfortable with me talking about sex, or how good you are at the course or how you might just be new, but you are mind-blowing and an expert in the field.”

She fidgets a little with her finger nervously for a while before glancing up at me. “You’re right, I’m not okay or comfortable with it, and so can we talk about something else? Like where we are having the date?”

The way her body grows edgy and cold at my words added to her plain response, tells me I must have hit a core point with sex. She is okay with sex, but not with talking about it and as much as I want to pressure her into telling me why that is, I do not want to scare her away from me and so I just let it rest.

I smirk and take her shivering hand into mine. “No, it won’t be a surprise if I tell you now, will it?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, it better be worth it then.”

I smile and quickly squeeze her hand on the seat of the car close to me, “It will be, amore; it will be.”

We arrive at the 1865 Royal City, one of the oldest and finest restaurants and let’s not forget the most expensive restaurant in the states. Founded in 1865, it stands as the oldest restaurant that is still in business. Most of the designs are old and exquisite and it’s one of the tourist restaurants in the state.

My dad brought mom with him to this place when their marriage was almost at the peak of divorce and they needed an intervention about twenty years ago.

I brought Vary here to experience a bit of luxury and delight and maybe I’ll get the gift mom and dad got.

“Oh my god, is it here?” Vary exclaims in disbelief.

I remember the first assignment Vary had received with the Hilton hotels; it was to find out in her survey why the Royal City, although being 151 years old, still got so much attraction and customers because it holds so many vintage and ancient collections. Vary did a remarkable survey with her findings. She also added that the royal city is an ideal setting for a romantic first date and when I asked if she would love to have her date there, she said the fee was quite expensive and would save the money for something useful.

Then it meant nothing, but now I think we both need this.

I nod, feeling satisfied with the awestruck look on her face. I wrap my arms around her slender waist and haul her towards my body, and we walk into the restaurant.

I had made a reservation at the upper part of the royal city which would let us see a little of the city light as the sun goes down and although it cost $15,000, an amount Vary would refer to as a fortune; I see no regret in it as long as I am with her and can make her happy.

Elisa, the general manager, comes up to meet us with a warm smile as she sees me and walks up to meet us. Elisa had shown me around the restaurant when I came around earlier and had helped me make a better pick for the night and I’m glad I’d known her a long time ago.

“Hello, Mr Hilton,” she extends her hand and takes mine into hers for a quick shake, “it’s so nice to see you again.”

I shrug. “You were meant to see me again. No sane person makes such a perfect reservation and bails.”

She chuckles, and she nods, in agreement, “Well, except the person they are taking out isn’t worth it.” She says and her eyes look down from mine and they rest on Vary her smile grows wider and she stretches her hand to Vary, who takes it although sceptical and edgy. “Keenan kept talking about you all the while. He was here and now I know why.”

I roll my eyes, but Vary's face breaks into a big smile. “He did?”

Elisa nodded, “You are a genuine delight. I’m Elisa Gilbert, we kinda went to the same university.” And moving closer to Vary, she whispers, “He has always been a blabbermouth with things and people he liked.” Into her ear, causing Vary to chuckle.

I hear her though and my cheeks felt like they are on fire I glare at her, but she willingly ignores it, “If I didn’t know you in college, I would have asked the owners to fire you for breach of privacy.”

She snorts, not one bit scared by my threat, “You mean you’d call Dad and have him fire me?”

I glare at her, “If that’s what it will take for you to stop embarrassing me in front of my wife.”

She shrugs casually, “Well you just said it, she’s your wife and there is no need to feel embarrassed before her.”

She’s right and that silences the room for argument and when she sees us our seat leaves.

I notice Vary grinning as she stares at me and as much as it makes her look even more beautiful; I felt uncomfortable. “What?” I finally ask.

She presses her lips together and shrugs, “It’s not every day you hear things about your husband.”

She called me husband, she still considers me her husband and hearing her say the words sends chills to parts unknown.

I hiss and adjust my sitting position awkwardly, “Our friendship didn’t last because she was always a blabbermouth and mind you, not everything she says is true.”

Her eyes lower dully, “So you don’t like me then? ‘Cause, she said you did.”

Way to turn the tables around, lady.

My eyes soften as I stare at her, “You already know I do.”

She stares at me like she just saw me wearing her nightgown. “You never said you did, so I never had proof.”

My hand finds hers on the table and gently squeezes it, “I don’t think I like you because I know what I feel for you is more than likeness.” I reveal my surprise and fear because I know this is the point I promised myself never to come to again, the vulnerable point called love.

From now on, this one person, Varisha Klean, can bring me joy and pain.


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