“I wish I could be there for you, Dad,” I pouted. I wanted to run out the door and hop on the first plane home. “I feel so guilty. You're sick and I'm here, and...”
“No,” Dad interrupted me. “No, Ava. Do not feel guilty about this.”
I played with a strand of hair, twirling it between my fingers. “Can I feel a little guilty about it? I mean, it's your heart.”
“Ava,” Dad warned, his voice going deep. That tone used to scare me when I was a child and it hadn't lost much to the years.
“Please?” I begged. “It feels like such a big deal.”
“Fine, you may feel a little guilty.” He sighed, giving into me. “You can make it up to me at Christmas and make me an extra batch of those cookies I like.”
“Done,” I promised, my heart feeling a little bit lighter. It wasn't a real solution to my guilt, but at least Dad sounded like himself again. “I'm glad you're feeling better, Dad. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“You'd do just fine,” he assured me. “You're strong. Like me. Besides, you aren't getting rid of me that easily. Dr. Verner says with this new pacemaker, you'll be struggling to keep up with me.”
I smiled, knowing that my dad was going to prove Dr. Verner right even if it killed him.
“Everything's going to be just fine, okay?” Dad's voice was soft. I heard a voice in the background that I assumed was a nurse. “Hey, honey- the nurse is here to check my vitals. Can I call you in the morning?”
“Yeah, I'll be waiting for it,” I answered. “I”m glad you're doing good, Dad.”
“Better than good,” he promised. “I love you, Ava. More than words.”
I smiled. It was something we had said for as long as I could remember. My mother used to say, “I love you more than words can say,” but as a child, I couldn't repeat the phrase properly. It had morphed into, “I love you more than words,” and stuck. I knew Dad was feeling better if he used that expression.
“I love you too, Daddy,” I replied. “More than words.”
I hung up the phone with my heart feeling heavy and light at the same time. So many emotions were rushing around my head that I didn't know what to feel. At least until my stomach rumbled. Then I decided I felt hungry.
I head down to the kitchen, hoping to see Bastian or Charlotte on my way, but the house was deserted. The kitchen was dark and empty. I knew Bastian was busy with work today and an idea came to me. He probably hadn't stopped working long enough to realize it was dinner time.
I pulled out a platter from one of the many shelves and began piling it high with cheeses, crackers, cut fruit, leftovers from Lucia, and whatever else I found in the fridge that looked good. Once I had enough to feed four people, I snagged a bottle of wine and four glasses from the pantry and headed upstairs.
It took some balance, and I decided that I had a future in waitressing if I ever needed one, but I managed to get all of it upstairs and in front of the doors to Bastian's study. I set the tray down on the hall table long enough to knock on the big doors before picking it up.
I heard the turn of a lock and the door opened to reveal Bastian. He smiled as soon as he saw me and then grinned as he saw the food.
“I brought provisions,” I announced.
He held open the doors to let me in to his sanctuary. “Come on in.”
I carefully maneuvered past him, trying to keep my attention on the very full tray of food and not on how close he was. I nearly dropped the platter and the glasses were slipping by the time I set them down on the table by the couch.
“Where are Charlotte and Leo?” I asked, looking around. Bastian was the only one in his room, though every light was on.
“They left,” he explained, sounding tired. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it's already tussled locks further. “The app's a mess, so they took the helicopter to the mainland to meet with Gabe and the programmers directly.”
“I'm sorry, Bastian,” I said quietly. My heart thrilled a little at his name. And that we were now alone in the mansion. In his room. “I guess I didn't need to bring up so much food, then.”
He looked at the food and then at me. The gleam in his eyes left no doubt that he wanted me more than the food. “More for me, then.”
My heart fluttered and I felt my face heat. I could still taste his kiss on my lips from this morning. All day, he was all I had thought about. He was all my body had craved. I ached for his touch again. I wanted more than just a kiss. I looked over at the bathroom door and remembered the way the water had run down his chest, the muscles and the soft skin. I wanted so much more than a kiss.
“Thank you for bringing this all up,” Bastian said, drawing me back from my memories of his naked body. He was wearing long dress pants and a light blue, button up dress shirt. I thought he looked better with just the towel, but I wasn't going to complain.
“You are very welcome,” I replied, picking up the bottle of wine and reaching for the corkscrew. I, of course, put it in at an angle and was left struggling to try and remove it without sending wine everywhere. The cork was stuck and I was using all my strength and getting nowhere.
“Here, let me.” Bastian reached for the bottle, taking both it and my hands in his. I trembled slightly, exhilarating at his touch. His hands were strong and warm, and sending electric currents of want straight through my spine.
In a smooth motion, he uncorked the wine as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “We should let it breathe for a few minutes,” he said, setting it off to the side.
“Breathe,” I repeated, more to remind myself to do so than to agree with him. He was so close to me now that I could smell his cologne. It was light and clean, yet incredibly masculine. It drew me in closer to him, making me want to rub myself all over him like a cat in heat. I couldn't think of anything but how much I wanted Bastian to do more than just stand here and breathe.
I looked up at him. Every fiber of my being wanted me to throw myself at him, to kiss every inch of his skin I could get my lips on. From the way he was looking at me, he felt the same. The sexual tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. I couldn't stop thinking of our kiss. My hands on his chest. His taste. His fingers tangled in my hair...
The wind ruffled the curtains as it came in off the ocean, and as if on cue, our willpower to stay apart broke at the same time. Whatever was holding us back and keeping us acting like civil, rational adults was blown away on that wind.