White Is The Color Of Intimacy

Chapter 10

She groaned in complete toe curling bliss...she sunk down into the tub, her eyes closed. She was sure that nothing else on earth was as glorious as this. The warm water was soothing to her bruised wrists and relaxed her nerves better than any massage ever could. She kicked up the water with her feet, water sloshing over the edge of the metal tub. She sighed in contentment. Viktor should have proposed this deal days ago.

She leaned back into the tub, a goofy grin on her face. But that grin quickly turned into a thoughtful frown. This was all going too well. She rested her arms on the side of the tub, her brows furrowed as she realized that...this was all rather fishy. It seemed a bit unnatural that the man went from being utterly annoying and selfish and did she mention domineering? And now, suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, he's kind, overly concerned and thoughtful of her feelings and needs. Oh something was most definitely up. She sat up in the tub, the water sloshing around her gently. She ran her hands down her hair before glancing toward the door.

After her bath had been delivered and filled he had excused himself, without her asking, and had even gone as far as telling her to enjoy her soak. She crossed her arms over her chest, she didn't trust this at all.

She stood up, water dripping from her body and rolling down her skin. She stepped out of the tub and reached for her dress, leaving her petticoat out. She refused to struggle putting the rest of the layers on. She pulled her dress on over her head. She stuffed her feet into her shoes before heading for the door. She walked out onto the deck, making sure to stay as quiet as possible. She moved along the wooden deck, going seemingly unnoticed by the men who worked. She, of course, realized a little late that she had no idea where she was going but that fact did not stop her. She had been told ever since she could remember that she was too much like her mother. Her mother never backed down, hardly ever held her tongue and always followed her gut instinct. Angel was the same. She turned the corner and stopped when she spotted Viktor standing beside the large buff man who had married them and his manservant. She quickly backed up, staying out of sight as she listened to them talk.

"She is very stubborn, yes? Why did you not just find an easy woman and give her money?" The buff man said, his accent still just as strong as she remembered.

Viktor tsked, "Do you truly think that did not cross my mind? But my aunt would see right through that. You know she would and besides, paying someone could backfire if someone offered a higher price."

"You do not lack money."

Viktor chuckled, "I never said I did."

The other man made a low growling sound deep within his throat. "Can you handle her is the question? She seems like more of a handful than you are used to."

Viktor laughed heartily, "Do not worry about what I can handle. A little woman with a high temper does not faze me. I will merely accommodate her wishes and give her a smile here and there, which should keep her satisfied until this is all over. There are other things I need to focus on and she is not the main thing but merely a sufficient need that had to be filled."

They all started to chuckle at his words. Angel stood rigid for a moment before shaking her head. She picked up her skirt in her hands and made a beeline for the cabin. She stomped the whole way there, not caring who heard or saw. She was livid. The man thought that a smile and fake hospitality would keep her at bay...as if she were a new pet or something. For all she knew he could have lied to her about the mysterious murderer after his family as well.

The jackass would get his. She smirked...he'd get his indeed. She'd play along, she'd act like the little innocent, gullible fool he wanted until they reached France. And then she'd show him.