Insecurities

I sat cross-legged on my queen-sized bed, wearing a singlet and shorts as I twirled my pen between my fingers, listening to yells and things moving around the house. 

To start our one-month relationship, Mr Kstervenchi had decided to, and I quote, 'move in temporarily.'

Just what I needed. A man constantly hovering around me because he was trying to get me to fuck him.

A heavy sigh escaped me as I grabbed the remote control and turned off the lights, then reached for the TV remote before turning on the sixty-inch TV in my room. I lay back in bed, pulled the duvet close to my chest, and began surfing through N*****x, skipping past every anime until I settled on a boys' love anime.

I wasn't sure how long had passed before a knock echoed through my room. I sat up. "Come in!"

The door opened, and Martha stepped in. "Dinner will soon be ready, Miss Marlowe. Mr Kstervenchi has asked that you get dressed and join him at the table."

"Oh, all right."

She nodded, then walked out and closed the door behind her. I threw the duvet off and climbed out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, I was done bathing. I headed to walk-in closet and opened it, half expecting to see just my traveling bag resting in the same spot near the wall that I'd put it earlier, but instead found it filled with rows upon rows of clothes. 

There weren't just clothes. There were bags, shoes, and stands for jewellery, perfumes and skincare products. 

My eyes almost dropped out of their sockets. I abandoned my traveling bag and walked further into the closet, taking everything in. 

I spent a long moment, staring. Before applying the products, then settling on a white, off-shoulder, long-sleeved top and a light purple satin maxi skirt. I paired them with simple black casual slippers, stared at myself in the full-length mirror, and headed for the door.

I opened the door and stumbled back at the sudden movement beside me. My gaze landed on Stephen, who was standing beside my door. "Good evening, Miss."

"Hi..." I eyed him sceptically before starting down the stairs. He followed me. "Don't you... have closing hours?"

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "A bodyguard doesn't have closing hours, Miss Marlowe. Someone else will be with you during the day, though. I've been reassigned to protect you at night."

"Protecting me from what exactly?" 

"From people who would seek to hurt Mr Kstervenchi through you."

Seriously?

"Me?" I echoed. "What do I have to do with anything? And why can't they just go for him directly?"

Stephen laughed, and I found myself smiling despite the fact that the question wasn't meant to be funny.

"It'll prove quite difficult for them to get to Mr Kstervenchi directly, so..." He trailed off. 

"I see..."

The sound of cutlery clanging against ceramic plates reached me as I got closer to the dining room.

"Kак она?" [How is she?]

My gaze landed on Mr Kstervenchi, who was talking to Marcus while he sat at the other end of a two seater-table.

"Vrachi zabotyatsya o ney," Marcus said. [The doctors are taking care of her.]

God. I hated When they did this. The last time they were speaking in this same language, a problem aroused.

Mr Kstervenchi stood up. "Mne stoit poyti i povidat'sya s ney." [I should go and see her.]

Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back into his seat. 

"S ney vse v poryadke, boss. A poka sosredotoch'tes' na miss—"

I cleared my throat, cutting them off. They turned to me.

"Miss Marlowe," Mr Kstervenchi called, waving me over.

I nodded. "Good evening, Mr Kstervenchi. Good evening, Mr Larvin." Then I straightened.

"Good evening, Miss Marlowe," Marcus greeted, nodding. "I should take my leave now. Enjoy your meal." He walked away, and my gaze trailed after him.

"Is everything alri—" The scraping of a chair interrupted me. 

Mr Kstervenchi walked up to me with a smile on his lips and drew out a chair. "Please, have your seat, Miss Marlowe."

I blinked at him, stunned, before lowering myself into the seat. "Thank you, sir."

He chuckled as he walked back and took his seat. "Mr Kstervenchi. Sir. All those are no longer going to work, Miss Marlowe. Call me Christopher, please."

"Oh, okay."

Food was served. Lobster. Turkey. Pasta. Mashed potatoes. After spending a moment wondering about what the occasion was, I dug in.

"How are you liking everything so far?" Christopher asked.

I swallowed the food in my mouth quickly, then took a sip of water. 

"I love it, si—I mean, Chrissy—" An embarrassed blush colored my cheeks. "Christopher," I muttered, peeking at him. He looked amused.

"You can call me Chris if you want—"

"Oh, no, no, no, Christopher's fine," I cut in. He simply hummed and went back to his meal. I did too.

"I see they fit well."

I looked up, puzzled.

His gaze slid down my body before he nodded, satisfied. "The clothes, I mean."

"Oh, yeah... they fit perfectly, actually. Quite uncanny, I must say... since no one took my measurements."

"Ah... yes. I actually told them."

"Really?" I stared at him, waiting for more explanation. He offered none.

"Uh... how did you know my measurements?"

He scratched his chin gently. "You're about the same build as my wife. A bit thinner because of malnourishment and genetically shorter."

I shifted in my seat, clearing my throat.

His gaze dropped to my chest. "She's quite gifted in that area, but you're somewhere in the medium range. A C-cup I believe. Although I assume that could also be caused by malnourishment."

I lowered my gaze and gritted my teeth as my fingers tightened around my cutlery.

"Your waist is quite small, and you lack reasonable curves. All of which has to do with malnourishment."

Tears prickled the corners of my eyes.

I stared silently at the table. He was right, but it hurt having someone say it to my face without considering how difficult life had been for me. 

"You're quite gifted, Mr Kstervenchi," I said, meeting his gaze.

He gave me a smile, the kind that said he didn't even realize his words had hurt me. He was simply making an observation. "I would say I am. Not to worry, though. In a few months' time, you'll look much healthier."

I placed my cutlery on the table. "I guess we really can't all be good at everything. Like how you aren't very careful with your words."

His smile fell as I stood up. "Did I—"

"Goodnight, Mr Kstervenchi. Enjoy your meal." I headed up the stairs, but the scraping of a chair reached my ears. 

"Miss Marlowe," Christopher called, rushing after me.

I spun around to face him. "Just..." I swallowed as the tears lodged in my throat like a splinter of wood. I turned back, pushed open my door, and walked in. I leaned against the door as that self-conscious feeling crept in.

That feeling of being undesirable. It ate at me like a disease, making me question every little thing I had once accepted about myself.

Perhaps Greg had slept with me not because he found me desirable, but because, like me, he didn't have many options.

How ironic.

I was supposed to be the woman he was courting. The woman carrying his child. The woman he'd chosen for this arrangement. Yet he'd just compared my body to his wife's and pointed out everything I lacked.

I wasn't sure what hurt more: his words or the fact that he'd said them without realizing how they sounded.