Hugo

She’s all I thought about for the last four years.
Since I left after her high school, and eighteenth birthday, celebration, Sabine had been on my mind.
Four. Fucking. Years.
I closed my eyes and pictured her.
I always thought about Sabine.
I could picture her long black hair … strands I wanted to wrap around my hand as I made love to her.
I imagined her blue eyes staring up at me, wide, pleasure-filled, as I thrust into her body.
I could picture my hands, mouth, and tongue moving along her womanly curves.
Four years of me wanting a woman I knew I shouldn’t desire, but whom I couldn’t get out of my head.
She was so much younger than I was, but that wasn’t an issue. The age difference didn’t bother me in the slightest. She was a woman, twenty-one years old, and she was smart, perfect for me. Sabine had always known what she wanted out in life, and she’d excelled at what she put her mind to. I might not have seen her in years, but I knew she had only gotten more determined in that regard. That wasn’t a trait someone just let go of.

I also didn’t care that she was Leo’s—my childhood friend’s—daughter. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t let a complication like that stop me from aching for her in a way that made it hard to think of much else.
It had been four long years since I’d even been intimate with a woman. I just couldn’t bring myself to go there with them, not when the only one I wanted was Sabine.
After all this time, I knew she was the only one I’d ever want, and as experienced in life as I was, I knew this wasn’t a passing desire.
I ran a hand over my face, breathing out wearily.
“Would you like something else to drink, Mr. Alfonso?”
I looked up at the flight attendant and shook my head. “No, thank you, Marcella.” I had three more hours to go before I landed in New York, and another hour drive to get to get to Leo and his wife Annabelle’s house. And by the time I even got to their home, it would be too late to see anyone really.
Getting a hotel would have been a simpler option, but it was out of the question, not when Leo and Annabelle insisted I stay in their guesthouse. I knew better than to argue with either of them.

I should have been here earlier.
I’d missed Sabine’s graduation, and even though I’d known about this event for some time, switching my business obligations around hadn’t been possible. That didn’t stop me from feeling this immense guilt.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the white leather box. Opening it, I stared down at the diamond tennis bracelet I’d bought for her.
Sabine was the only woman I’d ever given jewelry to, and although it might seem like an innocent gesture, a congratulatory gift for her accomplishments, the necklace, and now this bracelet that I’d give to her, meant a little more to me than she’d ever know.
She meant more to me than she’d ever know.

****

Sabine

It had been four years since I’d seen him.
Four years of me wanting a man who I knew I could never have.
Four years of me comparing every guy I tried to have a relationship with him … Hugo.

I’d told myself I needed to wake up, to realize I could never have a man more than twice my age and my father’s lifelong friend.
But telling myself what I should and shouldn’t want was a lot harder to accomplish when what I wanted was unattainable, yet still within my reach.
I stared across the table at my parents. We’d finished throwing a small dinner party in celebration of me graduating college and getting my bachelor’s degree, and now it was just the three of us. I should be focusing on graduate school, getting my Master’s in education, but knowing Hugo was coming in tonight was all I could think of.
Hugo Romanov.
Just thinking his name had my skin prickling with awareness, had every part of me speeding up. Adrenaline rushing through my body gave me this reaction.
“He’ll be here sometime tonight, although I’m not sure what time.” I looked at my father. He leaned back in the dining room chair and lifted his wine glass to his lips. He looked over at my mother, who also had a wine glass in front of her.
“It’s been what, four years since he was last in the States?” my mother asked.

My father nodded. “Yes, for Sabine’s high school graduation. Although he came back about a year ago on business, he couldn’t take the extra time to fly out to see us.”
My heart sped up knowing he’d been here, probably states away, yet still closer than when he was in Europe.
“I bet you’re excited to see Hugo again,” my mother said and took a sip of her wine, looking over the rim at me.
I shrugged, not about to show how nervous I was, or how much anticipation thrummed through me.
We’d finished off a bottle of wine between the three of us, and the second bottle was already half empty. I reached out and ran my finger along the base of my glass. “It’s been a long time,” I replied softly, thinking about the last time I’d seen him. I remembered vividly the way he smelled of dark and delicious cologne. But he’d also smelled of aged books and experience, and it was such a heady, intoxicating aroma. On instinct, I lifted my hand and touched the rose gold feather necklace he’d given me. It had been a present from Hugo for my accomplishment on graduating high school, but also making valedictorian.
I’d worn it every day since receiving it.
“You two always had this special bond.”

I looked up at my father after he spoke. “Not really.” He might have been more of a presence in my life when I was younger, and he lived in the States, but I’d never say we’d been close.
“Of course you did. Hugo would spend hours with you at the kitchen table teaching you Russian. Remember?”
I did, vividly. Our last lesson had been when I was seventeen years old, and he’d come to visit after being away on business in Russia.
“That’s because Dad wanted him to make me more ’rounded.’” I smiled at my dad. He’d been teasing when he’d made the suggestion I start learning a language, but Hugo had taken it seriously. For the next two years, from the age of fifteen to seventeen, whenever Hugo was in town, he’d spend hours with me, teaching me his native language—one of the four he spoke fluently.
The truth was I could only speak a handful of phrases of Russian, mainly because I wasn’t able to concentrate when he was near.
But I’d tried to come to the realization that my personal reality did not include Hugo in it.
And even after all these years, it was still hard to make that sink in.

I force myself to look away because . . . well, because he’s a stranger. In my house. Naked. And oh my God, something is wrong with me, because I’m not running and calling 911 like I should.

When his chuckle subsides, he brings his head back down, so I can see the tears in his eyes from laughter. “That thing is my cock, and since this is my bathroom and you seem to be attempting to seduce me in my house, I don’t think you have any right to tell me what to do.” And with that, he leans a hip against the counter and folds his arms across his chest, eyes locked on mine and one eyebrow lifted. Everything else is left hanging out there in the wind.

“Your house? Seduce you?” At that point I realize I’m sputtering and shaking my head. “This is my house. You’re in my house.”

Confusion drifts across his face and his jaw falls lax. “Hold up.” He lifts his hands in the hold on a minute position, drawing my eyes back to where they don’t want to be. If this whole situation weren’t so unbelievable, it would be comical, and yet as true as that is, I don’t seem to be laughing at all. “I think there seems to be some misunderstanding.”

“No shit.” Sarcasm is my fallback and it doesn’t disappoint me now. A lot of good it does me, though, as I’m still doing the naked dance while trying to react to this surreal situation.

The look of disdain he gives me at my comment earns him no points in my book. “While I’m digging the socks with your outfit,” he says with a smirk, eyes veering down and then back up to my strategically placed hands, “you should cover up.” I catch the towel he tosses me and immediately wrap it around myself. I’m certain my mismatching knee-high socks make a statement about me, but I’m beyond caring, because I’m still alone in my house with a strange man and have no answers as to how this has happened.

With one hand clutching onto the towel at my collarbone, I use the other to motion to him. “You too.”

A lightning flash of a grin glances across his lips. “Sorry, but you just took the only towel left.”