The Silver Lining (The Silveries Book 4) by Angela Dandy

Author:Angela Dandy [Dandy, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cottrill Publishing
Published: 2024-09-28T00:00:00+00:00

Quickly she had slipped into a routine, Flaviu’s routine. Rising at six thirty each morning, they ate breakfast together. At seven thirty, he left for work, locked the door from the outside, and pocketed the key. Strange as it had seemed in the beginning, she soon learnt that, as always, he had her best interests at heart. When all the paperwork was complete, he said, they would go out together – to cafés, bars, shops, restaurants – wherever her heart desired. In the back of her mind, she remembered Miriana mentioning that there would be a lot of paperwork, and that it might take time. It was for her own good. There were times when she stood by the patio doors, envying the passers-by. Men and women rushing for buses, mothers with toddlers and prams taking their children to school, groups of teenagers of similar age to herself, giggling and shouting as they shared secrets, while she could do nothing but look on.

The moment he left the apartment, Elena made herself a hot drink. After spooning fresh ground coffee into a cafetière, she added boiling water from the tall tap set into the stainless-steel sink, and then set about writing her diary. It had been Flaviu’s idea. It would improve her written English and remind her of all she had learnt from him.

He’d taught her so, so much. About her body, about his body; it was almost too difficult to put into words. He had taken her places that she had never known. Taken her to the stars and back. Laughed as he’d witnessed her first orgasm. Brought her to a high, teased her, made her wait until, finally, he had let her come. Blessed relief. Bliss. Taught her the art of stroking, kissing, and sucking his private parts so that he stood proud once more. At times, he was tender. Whispering in her ear, he told her how beautiful she was, how desirable, how utterly irresistible, and even that he loved her. Those were the moments that she treasured most. There were others she preferred to forget. Where there is pain, there is pleasure, he would whisper to her. She had found muscles she had not known existed. She had not complained. All that mattered was that he loved her, and she loved him.

Where once she had been shy, she was no longer.

She would have liked for her diary to be filled with descriptions of all the adventures she had had, but there were none. She knew no more about him than that which they shared in the bedroom. She would have liked to have known where he went each day, how he spent each day, and with whom. Learn about his exciting world. Not because she doubted him in any way but simply because she wanted to share, make memories. But it had not happened. There were days when it had been difficult to fill a page and then she was tempted to write about her sadness that Irina had never replied to the letters that Flaviu had dutifully posted first class to Bucharest.

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