CHAPTER-06
1783 Words
Anna.
Inside my bed, I toss and turn, feeling the heat from the room and the man next to me, Eric, who is also restless. As I push the blanket off my body, it covers him, and he groans, seemingly forgetting where he is for a moment. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling my body against his, my back pressed to his front. Suddenly, I feel something hard pressed against my backside.
Moments later, his face nuzzles my neck, and his lips brush my bare skin. My eyes widen as I whisper, “Eric.”
“Uh-hmmm,” he replies.
“Can you move a little bit?” I ask softly.
He ignores me, wrapping his arm around me tighter. I lean into him, my body relaxing slightly even though it shouldn’t. What I should be doing right now is pushing his arm off me and getting up to move to the guest bed or, at the very least, kicking him out of it. However, I do none of that. Instead, I allow him to smell my hair as I close my eyes.
“You smell like roses,” he whispers into my ear.
It’s my favorite flower, so I always buy rose-scented shampoo or perfume. Some men can’t stand the scent; however, Eric seems to love it.
Why does that make me want to wear it all the time for him? “It’s my shampoo,” I reply.
“I know,” he says before finally letting me go and rolling toward the window.
The thought of missing his body against mine keeps me awake longer, even as his soft snoring fills the room. By the time I finally fall asleep, it's already turning light outside.
When I wake up, it’s 8 AM. As I make my way toward the kitchen for coffee, soft music plays in the background, and a smile graces my lips. I open the door slightly and peek inside to find Eric with his messy bed hair, swaying his hips as if he’s dancing the salsa. With a spatula in hand, he flips a pancake before spinning around.
Leaning against the doorframe, I let out a laugh, which catches his attention. With a bright smile, he grabs my hand and suddenly spins me around, laughter spilling from my lips.
As he holds me close, swaying us together, our eyes lock and something warm spreads inside me. “You’re way too happy for 7 AM,” I comment.
“The sun is shining, and the birds are singing. It’s a beautiful morning; enjoy it!” he replies. It seems he’s forgotten about what happened last night, which freaks me out a little.
I nudge my head toward the stove. “You’re going to burn your pancakes,” I warn.
He lets me go, and to distract myself from the feeling of his touch, I grab a cup from the cupboard above the sink to make my morning coffee. “Are you having one?” I ask, not turning to look at him as I place a pod into the machine.
He doesn’t turn around as he answers. “Sure.”
As the coffee begins to spill, I turn around and place my hands on the counter behind me. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he replies.
My eyes narrow. “Just fine?”
“Sure. If anything was going to happen after the epinephrine wore off, it would have happened last night. It stays in the system for about six hours.”
Leaning forward, I slap his arm to get his attention. Once our eyes lock, I say seriously, “Don’t ever eat fish again.”
He bites his lower lip but nods in agreement. Just as I’m about to say something else, the doorbell rings.
“Who the hell is here at seven in the morning?” I mutter. Polly has her own key, so I know it can’t be her, and besides, she isn’t coming today.
They can wait a little longer; I need my coffee first. However, whoever it is seems very impatient, ringing the bell repeatedly. This makes Eric ask, “Do you want me to get that?”
“No, I got it,” I reply.
The smell of caramel fills the air as I walk through the house and into the foyer, where I see the outline of a woman standing on the other side of my door. Another chime of the doorbell makes me snap, “Alright! s**t!”
Taking off the locks, I swing the door open to find my mother standing there. “Ma?”
She smiles at me, her deep hazel eyes warm. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, surprised. She never pays a visit without calling first.
“You didn’t come to dinner the other night and didn’t call your father back, so I thought I would come and see you,” she says.
Stepping aside to let her in, I head toward the couch and take a seat. “Yeah, I’ve been ill. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”
“Ill? What do you mean, ill?” she asks, concern etching her face.
I pat the seat next to me; she worries far too much about her children. “I’m fine, Ma, I promise. Just a little infection. I’m on antibiotics and have a couple more to take, but I’m right as rain.”
It’s not entirely the truth; I still feel like crap, but she doesn’t need to worry all the time.
She watches me for a moment, her brows furrowing as she studies my face. Her long brown hair falls into her face as she shakes her head. “You should have told me.”
"And have you come here to look after me when you have better things to do? I didn’t want to worry you,"
She sighs, turning to face me, her right leg bent and resting on the couch. "I need to have a little chat with you."
Okay, when my mother starts a sentence like that, it’s never good. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. "What have you done?"
"Nothing, I just need to talk to you, that’s all,"
I spread my arms in invitation. "Well, I'm here Ma so get to it."
She looks away from me, clearly hesitant. " a long while ago, your father made a deal of sorts..."
She pauses, making me anxious. "Okay what does that have to do with me?"
“It's time for that deal to go through” she begins to bite her lip as I look at her expectantly. “You’re going on a blind date next week.”
I do a double take. “Excuse me… I'm not sure I heard you right. Did you say I'm going on a date? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but no. However, you don’t need to worry; he’s a nice man.”
“Who is he?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Just some man,” she replies.
“Just some man?” I repeat. “That’s very helpful! For all we know, he could be a serial killer!”
She shakes her head at me. “Don’t be silly, Anna. It wouldn’t be set up if that were the case.”
“Mom, I don’t date. I don’t have time for it, especially with Petrova— you know that’s more important to me.”
She nods, pressing her lips into a thin line. “And it’s important to us too, but you’re 28. At your age, I was already married and had your brother and you.”
My eyes widen at her words. “Mom, I’m not getting married or having kids. That’s not on my to-do list any time soon.”
Have they lost their minds? Since when did they decide to become matchmakers? My mother already knows my stance on marriage and kids. I made it clear from the start that I’m not in a rush for either. I could be 40 years old before I get married and have no kids whatsoever—and I’d be happy with that decision.
Her hand lands softly on my thigh, and she begins to rub it soothingly. “Just think about it for me, baby, please.”
She won’t leave until I give her some sort of agreement. “Fine, but you know the outcome so it’s pointless for me to even go on this date.”
She sighs. “Just go for me, even if it’s only for an hour. If you don’t like him, you can simply leave. You never have to do it again after that.”
I groan and slump against the couch just as Eric walks out. My mom suddenly blurts, “Jack!” Her eyes widen, and Eric falters, stopping mid-stride. They stare at each other for a moment, like two deer caught in headlights.
However, Eric seems to snap out of it. “No, ma’am,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Eric Parker, Anna’s new assistant. You must be MRS. Petrova. It’s very nice to meet you.”
My mom snaps out of her trance. “Eric,” she drawls out the name, making the hackles rise on my neck.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
My mother’s wide eyes dart toward me before she manages to rein in her expression. “oh im so sorry" she laughs "i thought you where someone else forgive me.” she the stands up.
“It was nice to meet you,” she tells Eric before pulling me into a hug. “See you soon, bunny.”
I am left speechless, watching her walk out the front door.
Turning to Eric, who is also staring after her, I ask, “What the hell was that?”
He shakes his head as he places the plate he was holding down. “I have no idea.”
With his back to me, I tilt my head to see his face, but I can only catch a glimpse of his side profile. “Have you both met before?”
He turns to me, his expression calm and collected. “This is the first time I’ve met her.”
“But she called you Jack.”
"My name is definitely not Jack; it's Eric, and it has been for the past 24 years. Your mother must have mixed me up with someone else; it happens..”
Something about this entire encounter has the hair on the back of my neck standing up, and I don’t like it one bit.
- Writer
