Housewife

With anticipation building, I slowly reached into the oven and pulled out the most mouthwatering biscuits I had ever seen. The aroma of toasted coconut and rich chocolate wafted through the air, filling every inch of my kitchen with a warm and inviting scent.

Hours had passed since I had last seen Saint and I relished in the solitude.

As the clock inched towards 8 pm, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment from being alone. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if one of his rivals had taken him out by now.

With the freshly baked cookies in hand, I indulged in a glass of wine. The feeling of being a little tipsy was quite welcome, especially in the silence of my own company.

As I returned my glass to the counter, I froze at the sight of Saint at the threshold of the kitchen. My heart skipped a beat and my voice escaped in a shriek – I hadn’t expected him to return so soon.

My fingers grip the fabric of my ebony t-shirt, my heart racing as I try to catch my breath. Finally daring to ask, I whisper, ‘How long have you been standing here?’

His low voice sends a shiver down my spine as he responds, ‘Not long. Didn’t you hear me come in?’

My laugh is shaky as I reply, ‘Jesus, no.’ Clumsily, I attempt to divert the attention away from my surprise. ‘Have you been baking?’ he asks, eyeing the cookies on the counter.

Nodding, I admit, ‘Baking is one of the things I do when I’m distressed.’

My curls spill over my shoulder, my nervous habit of tucking them behind my ear all but forgotten.

Saint’s gaze flickers between me and the glass of wine, curiosity etching into his perfectly sculpted features.

A light frown spreads across his face as he asks, ‘Are you intoxicated?’ The embarrassment rises in me as I reply, ‘No.’ Catching his unsure expression, I explain, ‘I’m just a bit dizzy, but I’m mostly sober.’

Saint approaches me, his black turtleneck showcasing his flexed muscles with every step. Standing inches from me, his eyes search mine, speaking a message beyond words. Gasping, I inquired, ‘What is it?’

‘What are the other activities that you do when you’re distressed?’ he asks.

“I take a bath, play the piano, or sometimes I just stare at white roses. Well, I used to do that a lot back in Poland.” As I pause and collect my thoughts, memories of the past slowly resurface from the depths of my mind. ‘We used to have a wondrous garden, filled with the most beautiful roses, the white roses were my favourite’ I speak softly, hoping to convey the emotions attached to those cherished moments, a flicker of curiosity lights up his emerald gaze. ‘You also play the piano?’ he pointed out questionably, his interest piqued. ‘Yes, my uncle Anatol taught me,’ I confirm with a slight nod of my head.

While he may exude arrogance, his passion for classical music is unmistakable.

‘Why are you distressed?’ he asks, his voice carrying a gentle concern. And so, with my heart laid bare, I confess, ‘It’s you, it’s how you make me feel.’

Suddenly, I find myself uncertain.

Why am I telling him this? We aren’t friends.

With his scent enveloping me, I find myself captivated, lost in the heady aroma of his cologne as it takes over my senses, evoking the flutter of a thousand butterflies in my belly.

No, don’t you guys dare flap your wings or I will burn you by drinking hot sauce. Do not flap. Not for him! I mentally screamed at myself.

“What did I do?”

Where do I even begin Saint-

“A lot of things.”

He draws in closer, his warm breath tickling my earlobe and sending shivers down my spine. I’m ensnared by his gaze, searching for any hint of malice, but all I find is tenderness.

‘Is there anything I can do to ease your mind? I take full responsibility for it,’ he murmurs, his lips grazing my skin in a tantalizing caress.

I’m at a loss for words, bewildered and yet, aroused.

‘S-Saint, what is this?’ I stammer, trying to make sense of all these confusing emotions.

He tilts his head, his expression one of genuine bewilderment. ‘What do you mean, Doe?’

I can feel my pulse quickening as he leans in even closer. ‘Your games…

what are you up to?’

He shakes his head. ‘No games, Doe. It’s just you and me now. I want to show you that I’m more than just anger and pain. I can be gentle and passionate, just for you,’ he declares, and with those words, my heart skips a beat.

Most young ladies would be smitten by Saint’s charm, but I must confess, I have a more forbidden fixation. The darker side of him draws me in, as it’s the only way for me to experience a significant rush of emotion all at once.

However, the inner child within me who longs for a fairytale romance can’t help but rejoice at the thought of Saint’s attention.

I let out a soft chuckle, ‘Since when have you cared about earning my trust?

Since when have I meant anything to you?’

‘Since the moment I realized I depend on you like a junkie yearning for his next fix. You’re like a drug coursing through my veins that I just can’t resist.

There’s something al uring about you, Irena, and I can’t help but be drawn to discover its source,’ he declares, leaving my mouth agape and parched.

The tension between us crackles and sparks like a live wire as I lift my gaze to meet his. The intensity is palpable, coursing through me like a current and sending my heart rate racing.

‘I want to believe you,’ I say, my voice betraying my uncertainty. ‘But how can I be sure you’re not just playing with me…?’

“Words are just words, Saint.”

He meets my gaze, unwavering and confident. ‘Words aren’t just a collection of letters, Irena. They’re a force to be reckoned with. They have the power to transform minds, to touch hearts, to evoke emotions that are beyond our grasp.’

I lean closer, drawn in by his conviction. ‘You think so?”

“Yes.”

He smiles, slow and enigmatic. ‘Words can move mountains, Irena. They can stir the soul and ignite the imagination. And at this moment, they’re all I have to prove to you that I mean every word.’

The caress of his breath against my skin sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn’t help but release a longing sigh.

“Words are intimate,” Saint whispered, his gaze piercing mine intensely.

“And tonight, Doe, I will reveal to you their most intimate secrets – if only you’d be willing to entrust me with your heart for one fleeting moment.”

With a tantalizing flick of my tongue, I moistened my lips, my heart racing as I struggled to resist the temptation. But before I could second-guess myself, the treacherous word spilled out of my lips in a reckless impulse.

‘Yes.’

A wave of caution swept over me, and I immediately added, ‘But that doesn’t mean I trust you.’

Saint retreats, his intense gaze fixed upon me. ‘Undress,’ he commands, his voice leaving me bewildered. Did he truly just ask that of me?

‘What?’ I ask, struggling to make sense of his words.

‘Undress,’ he repeats tersely, his eyes filled with unwavering confidence.

‘You’re entrusting me with your body for the night. Trust me when I say you need to undress.’

I hesitate, my thoughts running wild as I try to decipher his intentions. Is he attempting to gain my trust, or is this merely a ploy to exploit me when my guard is down?

‘Irena, I won’t harm you,’ Saint reassures me, his words tumbling out in a soothing, genuine tone. ‘I promise.’

“I-”

His piercing eyes meet mine, and suddenly, I am lost in their depths. A spell has taken hold of me, and I can do nothing but surrender. My shirt falls to the floor, a sacrifice to this irresistible force. I unbutton my jeans, inching them down, still under his hypnotic gaze.

Left standing before him, in nothing but my bra and panties, I am laid bare.

All defenses down, his scrutiny makes me feel like an exposed target. At this moment, I am no longer the carefully crafted mask I present to the world; I am simply Irena.

With a command, ‘Close your eyes,’ my heart races, and I follow his directive, abandoning sight for heightened senses. The world around me fades into pitch-blackness, and my anticipation builds.

Saint’s warmth enveloped me from behind, sending shivers down my spine as a soft silk fabric brushed against my skin. Like a gentle embrace, the blindfold tightened as he secured it in place, leaving me in a state of anticipation.

‘Saint?’ I called out, my voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.

‘Trust me,’ he replied in a low, seductive tone, causing my heart to race.

As I steadied my breath, the sound of a belt being unbuckled heightened my senses. I held my breath, waiting for what was to come.

With gentle steps, Saint circled me, his presence permeating every inch of my being. His words washed over me, soothing and calming my nerves.

‘Relax, Doe,’ he murmured, his voice having an almost magical effect on my body, making me surrender to his every command.

My entire body tenses with anticipation as the supple leather glides delicately across my shoulder. The sensation travels down my arm, sending prickles of excitement racing to my fingertips.

‘Can you feel it?’ he whispers, I moisten my lips and nod, barely able to articulate my response.

‘It’s like a serpent’s gentle caress,’ I murmur.

He probes, curiosity written all over his tone. ‘Does it make you sick like other touches?’

I shake my head, surprised at the change in my usual reaction. ‘No, it’s different. This touch doesn’t bring back those memories.’

His voice is low and charged with energy. ‘What memories?’

I grit my teeth, tasting venom on my tongue. ‘Viktor,’ I hissed.

Pressing in even closer, he taunts me with a sultry whisper against my neck.

‘And if I did this…?’

As he traces the soft leather belt along my stomach, I feel my body shiver with anticipation. The fabric glides upwards, grazing past the curve of my breasts, and I can’t help but let out a soft sigh. His touch is gentle yet mesmerizing, and with each stroke, my skin tingles with excitement. His lips brush against my flesh like feathers, sending shivers down my spine and prickling goosebumps on my skin. I can feel the hair on the back of my neck rise as the sensation intensifies.

Every nerve in my body ignites. My heart races, and my breath quickens.

‘No,’ I gasp. ‘It’s not the same.’

‘Imagine my lips trailing a map of sweet kisses across your skin, Irena.’

He murmurs softly. ‘Let my words wrap themselves around you like a gentle embrace, as they whisper the secrets of passion and desire to your soul. See the belt as a tantalizing dance, with my fingertips as your guide.’

His voice is like a spell, enchanting and hypnotic. ‘Feel my words like the tingling warmth of soft kisses, let them reach deep within you and fill you with all the longing and yearning you’ve ever felt. Hear the rhythm of my voice and imagine it carrying you away to a place of pure bliss, where you can frolic with the angels in the gates of heaven.’

My heart races as he steps closer, his breath mingling with mine as his lips graze my own. His touch is electric, sending shivers down my spine. This moment feels like it was crafted just for us, a perfect harmony of desire and passion.

‘I know you perceive me as a man of destruction,’ he declares, his belt tracing a path down my quivering thigh before halting above my fervent core. ‘Let me show you that I can be more than that. For you. Only for you.’

‘Tell me you desire sweetness and purity, and I’ll submit myself to you. Ask for weakness and frailty, and I’ll provide it. For you, I’ll transform into the perfect partner. Your prince in shining armour or your valiant knight in the shadows.”

Suddenly, the world around us vanishes, and I drift into another realm. His words have an all uring pull on me, magnetizing me away from reality. His voice, his phrasing, and his every touch have me enraptured, only focused on him alone.

Only Saint matters.

‘My words to you are not mere utterances, Irena. I’ll give you the world,’

he whispered, his lips just inches from mine. “The moon. The fucking stars. Anything you ask, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Only two things can have me. You and death itself.”

As my lips tenderly part, my heart skips a beat, the words sinking into my soul like a hauntingly breathtaking vow – a promise cloaked in an all uring, twisted darkness.

As we bask in the comfortable stillness, it feels as if our very beings have merged into one. But beneath the calm surface, a fierce tension swirls like two planets on a collision course, destined to unleash a cataclysmic force.

“Just one touch,” he utters. “Just one touch,” I replied.

The belt hits the ground with a resonating thud, the sound echoing in the kitchen. My pulse quickens as Saint’s fingertips begin to trace up my arm, sending shivers down my spine. I brace myself for the inevitable feeling of disgust, but instead, my skin ignites with a fiery sensation that leaves me speechless.

As Saint’s lips brush against mine, a soft sigh escapes my lips. The spark between us crackles, but now it’s different. There’s no longer any hatred or disgust between us, just a connection that I can’t quite put into words. It’s a feeling I dare not admit to myself or anyone else.

With anticipation building up inside me, Saint slowly takes off the blindfold and lets me open my eyes. I gaze into his soulful, tender eyes and the void that had once inhabited them is nowhere in sight. But there’s something more pulsing behind those emerald orbs, something that sends electric currents down my spine. It’s the unspoken language we communicate with our eyes, the storm brewing between us, threatening to consume us both.

“Just as simple as that.” As he speaks, I’m transfixed by his gaze, scouring every inch of it for a hint of hidden emotion in his voice.

With a graceful motion, he plants a gentle kiss on my forehead and retreats with quiet dignity. ‘Go rest, I’ll handle the kitchen,’ he murmurs, his tone confident and reassuring.

Spell bound by the moment, I stand dumbstruck as he deftly steps past me to begin cleaning up after my culinary ravages. My mind races flooded with a deluge of confused feelings I struggle to put into words.

I can only hope the intoxication coursing through my veins isn’t playing tricks on me, because what I just saw in Saint demands the impossible: a complete rethink of everything I thought I knew about him.

The kitchen has become a place of turmoil for me, ever since the fateful incident. The emotions that have taken hold of me are overwhelming, and I can’t seem to shake them off. For four days, I’ve tried to maintain my routine, to avoid him at all costs. But, deep down, I’m not sure if I’m doing it for his sake or mine.

The house was eerily quiet, with only the distant sound of guards patrolling outside disrupting the silence. With nothing to do, I decided to cook dinner for myself, knowing that Saint wouldn’t be home anytime soon. I know it’s not exactly wifey material, but I’m tired. For some reason, I feel more comfortable around Saint than I ever did around Viktor. It’s a lame excuse, but it’s the truth.

My culinary concoction was nothing revolutionary, just a modest spread of steak and veggies. As I sat and dined alone, time drifted by like a slow current. Suddenly, the clock struck 11 and I was hit with an urge to wash away the day’s stresses. The shower beckoned me and I obediently answered.

As the warm water cascaded down my skin, I shaved myself from top to toe. However, I was content to leave my lady parts untrimmed – they had been waxed just before my wedding, and the hairs were happily slow growers. The minutes in the shower poured on, Lost in thought, I found myself mindlessly peering at nothing while the water drained from around me.

Emerging from the bathroom, I carried out my routine before trading my daytime attire for a lacy night dress. Luxuriating in my comfortable bed, I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

However, it was not to last. In the dead of night, I woke up with a start and found that sleep had eluded me. 3 am glowed ominously from my phone as I attempted to force myself back to sleep. Eventually, I decided to get up and wander around my silent abode, confident that Saint was not yet home.

I couldn’t put my finger on how I knew, but I sensed his absence with deep intuition.

As if guided by an unseen force, I find myself drawn to the piano room.

The air is heavy with the memory of Saint’s recent performance – a haunting serenade played amidst a bloodbath. It sends shivers down my spine.

I’m glad my uncle Anatol taught me the piano, he spoke of it as a graceful instrument, fit for a lady of character. And despite my initial reluctance, I grew to love the timeless sounds it produced.

Having left Poland, I never thought I’d have the chance to play again. But the sight of a white grand piano in Saint’s home speaks otherwise. And as I sit on the bench, my foot poised on the pedal, I feel a sense of both familiarity and uncertainty. But then, I began to play.

The melody gently caresses my ears, the harmonies singing to my soul.

Each note becomes a paintbrush, creating a beautiful masterpiece that only I can hear. As my fingers dance across the ivory and ebony keys, I am transported to another world where my worries dissipate into nothingness.

The piano becomes an extension of myself, an expression of my emotions that cannot be put into words. It is a place where I find solace, a sanctuary where I can be vulnerable and yet strong.

The sorrowful memories that have been weighing me down are given a voice through the music. My fingers speak in the language of pain and heartache, telling a story that is uniquely mine. And yet, as I play on, I can feel the music lift me, inspiring me to keep moving forward.

It is in these moments that I am truly in control. My fingers move deftly across the keys, creating a symphony of sound that is truly my own. It is a feeling that is both empowering and liberating.

And then, just as I am lost in the music, I feel his presence. Saint, standing behind me, his warmth reaching out and enveloping me.

As I strike the keys of the piano, his presence creeps up on me without warning. ‘You play divinely,’ he whispers softly, causing me to jump and strike a few off-notes. ‘What the hell, Saint!’ I exclaim, my heart racing as I try to regain my composure.

Ignoring my outburst, he moves to the other side of the piano and stands in the moonlit window. The luminous rays wrap around his face, highlighting his perfect features.

Without hesitation, I ask the question that has been weighing on my mind.

‘Where have you been?’ I inquire, immediately regretting my words as he smirks devilishly. ‘Missing me, are we?’ he retorts, my eyes roll involuntarily.

‘I had a matter to attend to,’ he replies cryptically, his demeanor turning cold as my body shivers. A nagging feeling creeps up on me, sensing that he may be in trouble.

‘Saint, what’s going on, you look like a mess. What did I say about you coming home drenched in blood?’ I implore, a warning in my voice. “Awh. Always looking out for me, love,’ he says with an air of confidence. ‘It’s cute how you seem worried thinking that I got myself into trouble. Doe, I am the trouble,’ he adds smugly, leaning casually against the piano.

With my arms firmly crossed, I demand, ‘Where have you been?’ His carefree response is as unsatisfactory as ever, ‘Just visiting a former family member.’ But my skepticism only grows as I furrow my brow and press him,

‘What on earth do you mean by that?’

Suddenly, he rises from the piano and ominously strides towards me. ‘I simply paid my respects at Viktor’s final resting place.’ My heart races with unease, and my once-tense muscles begin to quiver when he drops the bombshell.

‘And as a final gesture, I burned his grave.’