Chapter 18 A Beginning

Chapter 18 A Beginning
Nadja Mayer

I see him furrow his brows, and then he does the same. We eat in silence for a moment, the sound of our chewing the only noise in the quiet office. The tension between us is tangible, but it’s different from before. It’s no longer just fear on one side and repressed desire on the other. There’s something more.

Something like negotiation and mutual recognition.

When I finish my sandwich, I set the plate aside. I clasp my hands in my lap, gathering my breath to speak to him.

“Dragon,” I begin, and the name comes easier this time, as if it’s already becoming accustomed to my lips.

He looks at me, his eyes attentive.

“I want to sign my documents,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “As Nadja Ironside. I don’t want to be Mayer anymore.”

He doesn’t move. He only looks at me, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I see a flicker of pride and a smile that looks more like happiness and possession than anything else. It was brief, fleeting, but it was real and it was there.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral. “It’s a heavy name, and even though I wish for you to take it right away, it carries consequences.”

“I know,” I reply, and the certainty in my voice surprises me. “But it also carries protection. And I know that’s where I want to start.”

He nods slowly, his gaze deepening into mine.

“And beyond the documents?” The question is soft but loaded. “Do you want anything else, Little One?”

I take a deep breath. The air enters my lungs and leaves, a steady rhythm that anchors me. I look at his hands on the desk; they are large, marked, and I know they are very dangerous. But they are also the hands that held me while I cried. The hands that wiped my tears.

“I…” I start, my voice faltering a little. I swallow and try again. “You said you would only touch me when I allowed it.”

He nods, an almost imperceptible movement.

“I want… I want to try,” I say, and the words are a whisper, but they echo in the office’s silence. “I’m ready to try the touch. Your touch.”

The world stops, and it feels like the air leaves the room. Everything narrows down to his eyes on mine, to the expression that changes on his face,first to surprise, then to desire, then to something that resembles hope.

He rises slowly. He circles the desk. He stops in front of me, but doesn’t come closer. He leaves a space between us, perhaps his way of making me feel safe.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, and this time there’s an urgency in his voice. A need for absolute certainty.

I stand up as well. My knees are weak, but I can support myself. I look up, straight into his eyes. Dragon is so tall and so broad, a physical presence that could crush me if he wanted. But I know he doesn’t want to. That’s the difference,he doesn’t want to destroy me. In his gaze, I can see he wants to rebuild me, and that is the bridge.

“No,” I say honestly. “I’m not sure of anything. I’m scared, Dragon. But I’m also tired of having to be scared all the time. And you’re giving me a choice. For the first time in my life, I’m choosing.”

He extends his hand. Slowly. Giving me time to retreat if I wish, to change my mind if I’m that unsure.

I look at that hand. At the marked knuckles, at the old scars and some that are new,perhaps made today, or not, I’m not sure about that. But I also know now that some of them are from protection and from his loyalty. From a strange, twisted code among men who do what he does.

I pull in another long breath, and I choose to try. I place my hand in his and keep our eyes locked. I can feel the tension run through the contact of our skin. His hand is warm, rough, and enveloping. He closes his fingers around mine, not with force, but with firmness. A grip that says: I am here, but you can also leave if you want.

He pulls me gently, and I take a step forward. Now we are close. Very close. I can feel the heat of his body, his woody scent, the same one I felt under that tree which made me return his kiss.

“Nadja,” my name leaves his lips in a whisper.

He raises his other hand, touches my face. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as they pass over my skin, as if I were something precious and very fragile.

“May I?” he asks, his eyes searching mine, asking permission for every move he makes, for every touch on my skin.

I nod, my words stuck in my throat as I try to control the terror and not let panic speak louder.

His fingers slide to my chin, tilting my face upward. He leans down, his lips approaching mine. But he stops, a few centimeters away, his warm breath against my lips.

“This time,” he whispers, “you have to come to me, Little One. You have to decide that you want me, that you want to kiss me.”

It’s the last piece of control that still exists. The last barrier I myself created. And he is giving me the key to unlock it.

I close my eyes. I take a deep breath. And then, even if still hesitant like a wild animal approaching an outstretched hand, I lean forward.

My lips touch his.

It’s different from the kiss in the square. This time, there is no surprise, nor is there the panic from before. There is a delicious sense that I chose this, that it is something I am doing because I am enjoying it.

His lips are softer than I expected. They move against mine with infinite patience, exploring, silently asking, and never demanding. His hand is on my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. His other hand still holds mine, our fingers intertwined.

I respond. Slowly, without any experience, since I have never been kissed on the mouth, or even anywhere else on my body. But still, I respond. And this time, there is no fear mixed with the response,only a latent curiosity that wants more.

I am starting to believe this is the beginning of something more.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away. His face is still close to mine, his forehead resting against mine.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and there is a raw emotion in his voice that makes me open my eyes.

He is looking at me, and in his eyes I see something I never expected to see: gratitude.

Gratitude for my choice. For my trust and for my courage.

“We don’t have to go any further today,” he says, his voice still low and hoarse. “This is already more than I expected.”

But I look at him. At this man who knelt before me. Who is asking my permission for every touch. And I know, with a certainty that comes from a deep place within me, that I want to go further. Not today, but I know one day. Soon, I will want to discover his touch on my body.

“Dragon,” I say, and my voice is firmer now. “I will sign those documents. As Nadja Ironside. And I want to try this marriage with you. This new life by your side and try to forget everything I went through in Belgrade.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if my words were something he had been waiting for a long time. When he opens them again, there is a determination there that makes me feel safe. In a way I have never felt before.

“Then we have another new agreement,” he says, and now there is a smile on his lips, small, almost shy. “You try. I wait. And together we see what it becomes.”

He takes a step back, releasing my hand. The contact is broken, but the connection remains.

“Now go to sleep, I’ll be up to the room in a little while,” he says, his voice gentle. “Tomorrow is a new day. The first day of Nadja Ironside.”

I nod. I turn to leave but stop at the door.

“Dragon?” I call, looking back.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For understanding me, and especially for waiting for me.”

He nods, his gaze serious.

“You are worth the wait, Little One. Always have been.”

I leave the office and go up the stairs. I enter my room, but leave the door slightly ajar, so I won’t make noise and wake up when he comes in.

I stand in the middle of the room, my hands on my chest, feeling my heart beating hard and fast. But for the first time, I wasn’t feeling fear,it was the opposite. There was an expectation about whether he, when lying beside me, would truly still respect the imaginary line he had created the night before to control my fear.

I go back to the door and can hear the soft sound of a chair being moved, of papers being arranged. He is returning to work, returning his attention to who he is.

I sit on the bed, looking out the window at the dark night of Helena. The stars are shining, distant and cold, but they are beautiful in their indifference nonetheless.

Nadja Mayer died today. The broken girl, the frightened woman, the silent victim,she is saying goodbye.

And Nadja Ironside,I still don’t know who she will be. At least, not yet. But I am very eager to find out who she is.

Which is already a beginning. Even if it’s precarious, yes, it is a beginning.

And sometimes, a beginning is all we need.