Housewife

The journey to paradise, Bora Bora, proved to be a harrowing experience.

The air felt thick with tension as I sat in a ghostly silence, completely ignored by the somber-faced cabin crew. Their lifeless gaze refused to meet mine, as though afraid of some unspoken curse.

Even Saint kept his distance. Which I appreciated.

Though his presence lingered ominously, I felt as if he wasn’t truly there.

Every now and then, I would catch his eye, a deep green with a glint of amber, and it sent shivers down my spine. It was like looking into the eyes of a mystery, a strange puzzle that I couldn’t solve. His magnetic pull was like the gravity of the moon, shifting the tides of my emotions. And so, I sat in a state of limbo, waiting for the journey to end and for my adventures on this exotic island to begin.

As the airplane touched down, I could feel the heat from the setting sun against the window. Stepping out into the open air, I was hit by a warm gust of wind, causing my skin to prickle with goosebumps. As my eyes adjusted to the golden hues of the landscape, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up in front of me. My heart leaped when a man in a perfectly tailored tuxedo stepped out, his buzzed hair catching the last bit of sunlight. The smell of a woodsy cologne hung in the air, intoxicating me. Descending the stairs, I found myself face to face with this enigmatic figure, his face shrouded in shadows from the setting sun. His words dripped with intrigue as he gave me a sideways glance.

“By the way, you’re not as ignorant as you claim yourself to be,” Saint said in a deep voice, striding past me to the waiting car. My eyes never left him until he disappeared inside, leaving me to ponder the mysteries that lay ahead.

Immersed in a web of emotions, I instinctively climb into Saint’s car.

Before I even realize it, I’m already sitting in the passenger seat, slamming the door shut without a second thought.

As the engine roars to life under Saint’s control, I can feel the power coursing through the car. Without a word, he shifts gears and starts down the road, leaving me to brood in silence.

Despite my burning desire to know the destination, my pride refuses to allow me to speak. My mind is fogged by anger, fear, and regret, making it impossible to articulate my thoughts without consequence. So I choose to keep my mouth shut and endure the ride.

The sky has transformed, a mesmerizing blend of midnight blue merging into burnt amber.

After a long, winding drive, we finally arrived at our destination. The answer to my burning question is revealed – we will be embarking on the adventure of a lifetime in the idyllic French Polynesian islands.

As we step foot onto the resort, I follow Saint and he leads me to his private yacht. My heart races with excitement and anticipation.

As the pristine sail unfurls and rises higher, the water sparkles and casts a bewitching glow. The breeze sweeps through my hair while my dress gently sways to its rhythm. Suddenly, Saint appears beside me, offering a chilled martini. I accepted it without a word, my eyes glued to the horizon. I felt the weight of his gaze on me but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

Although my instincts told me to flee, my feet felt as though they were rooted to the ground below me. I watched as the yacht groaned and heaved, launching itself off the dry dock and into the ocean’s depths, its bow cutting through the waves with a sharp and urgent grace. With a martini in hand, I rested my elbow on my forearm, holding it just below my breast.

Suddenly, a question burst forth from me like a tidal wave. ‘Why did you even marry me?’ I blurted out, turning my head to face Saint. He lowered his gaze, studying me carefully as he weighed his response. After a moment of silence, he finally replied. ‘I didn’t have a choice,’ he said simply, causing my brow to furrow in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’ I pressed, but Saint remained steadfastly silent.

With narrowed eyes, I tore my gaze away from him, intent on soaking up the awe-inspiring scenery. A gentle breeze worked its way through my hair, kissing my face with a chilly nip. The boat sailed forward, the glass-like water folding beneath it in a hypnotic pattern.

But my attention was divided. His silence was suspect, refusing to spin out his intentions like a spider’s web. It was as if he had buried his truth beyond my reach. Saint: the enigmatic French don.

‘You said lies would fail us,’ I said, my voice trailing off before adding firmly. ‘I say it’s secrets.’

Without another word, I pivoted on my heel and strode off, disappearing into the depths of the yacht. Letting him stew outside, left to his own devices.

As we arrived at our secluded oasis, Saint graciously ushered our suitcases into the enchanting Waterhouse lodge.

Once inside, I was immediately overcome with a serene ambiance that seemed to permeate every inch of the hut. The sweet fragrance of vanil a infused the air, causing

me to let out a contented sigh as I admired the modern furnishings and the surrounding natural elements.

I kicked off my heels and sauntered leisurely towards the bedroom. As I pushed open the door, a gasp escaped my lips. The sight before me was both breathtaking and unsettling – the bed was adorned with a blanket of delicate red petals and a chilled bottle of champagne, complete with two wine glasses, sat expectantly on the dresser.

But as the realization washed over me, a sudden panic set in. There was only one bed…

The mere thought of sharing a bed with Saint sends shivers down my spine.

It’s been far too long since I’ve slept beside anyone – the last time was when Viktor and I slept in separate rooms. I couldn’t bear the thought of being near that monster, not even in his slumber. After all the horrors and evils he drew upon me during our marriage, I couldn’t trust him.

But now, as I enter the room and spot my suitcase beside the bed, I realize that there’s no avoiding it. I can feel dryness in my mouth like sandpaper scraping against my tongue. I know what I have to do.

I’ll just have to sleep on the couch.

I drop my shoes by the door and kneel before the suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out my white lace robe. I let it rest on the bed before slipping out of my clothing, leaving me in just my lacy bra and panties. As I unclip my bra, my shoulders relax in sweet relief as my full breasts fall into their natural, comfortable drop. They’re not too big or small – just perfect in their own right.

With a deep breath, I tie the robe securely around my body.

I run my fingers through my hair and gently massage my scalp, hoping it will ease the stress I have so that it won’t turn into a headache.

My hair is naturally curly due to my black roots but my uncle has forced me to straighten it saying that it makes me look more appealing but now that they are technically out of my life I’ll get my hair back into its natural state.

I walk over to the glass window and slide the door open, stepping out of the room as the ocean breeze tickles my skin. I inhale deeply. Silently enjoying my own company, drowning into the darkness of the night.