Page 19 of Ceremony of Lust
After I help clear away the dinner dishes, I realize how late it is and ask Yael to walk me to the front door.
“Please, pick out furniture,” I tell her.
“You didn’t like anything my grandmother picked out?” she asks with a flutter of her eyelashes.
“Her tastes don’t exactly match what I had in mind.”
“Whips and chains?”
I groan in frustration. “You have been told lies, Yael. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You’re Zev the Wolf. The list of crimes you are accused of committing is too long, but since you work for the Elders, you get away with it all.”
“As my wife, you will know what kind of man I truly am.” She swallows and continues to look up at me. “But I am a man who does not sleep in a four-poster golden oak bed. So please, choose something more suitable.”
“All right.”
For the first time since the Match Ceremony, I am reminded of Yael’s youth. She turned eighteen only a few days ago, and now I’m asking her to pick out furniture for a home she and I will share. Most eighteen-year-old girls are more concerned with picking out furniture for their dorm rooms.
Still, she is quite lovely, and I have to resist the urge to kiss her full, luscious lips. “Good night, Yael,” I murmur as I lean forward to brush a light kiss across her cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Outside Yael’s home, a black SUV idles at the curb. The back-passenger door pops open as I approach, silently summoning me inside.
“Get in,” Anders commands. “We need to make a trip into the city.”
My feet don’t budge an inch. “No,” I tell him. “We had a deal. No more errands or trips into the city until after the wedding. I’m supposed to be courting Yael, not abandoning her.”
“And didn’t you just come from her house?”
“Yes, I did, but she’s already annoyed I haven’t been around much.”
“Who cares? She’s a young girl; she has no idea what life will be like once you’re married. In a few months, she’ll be begging you to leave.”
“You might be okay with that, but I’m not. Hadassah chose me. I’ll do things my way.”
Anders rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll get someone else to handle this for me. But once your wedding is over, it’s back to business as usual.”
“We’ll see about that.” I shut the door and walk away in the opposite direction. Once the wedding is over, it won’t be business as usual. It’ll be time to renegotiate.
Once I’m back home, I wander through the penthouse I’ve called home for the past five years. It’s strange to live in such a modern building that overlooks such an antique town. Up here, I feel as if I live in the present, and from the windows, I can see the future spread out before me. But once I’m down on the street, I’m stuck in the past, in a life I no longer want.
My home is already undergoing a transformation. I never imagined sharing this space with a woman, and when I was finally selected in the Match Ceremony, I realized the coldness of my home reflected the state of my heart. How could I bring Yael into a place that didn’t even feel inviting? If I was committed to changing my life, then where I lived needed a makeover as well.
The black marble floors have been replaced with something lighter, and the walls have been painted a cream color that makes everything seem warmer and cozier. And then there are the invisible eyes being installed everywhere. After my run-in with Anders at the Match Ceremony and the subsequent selection, it was apparent I had to take extra precautions to keep Yael safe. There’s something odd about the way Anders seems fixated on Yael, and I don’t like it. Safety is one thing I feel confident I can provide.
I move from room to room, checking the progress of the remodel while I consider Yael’s requests. She’s not like most girls who get married in Ripley. They seem to care only about the material things their husbands can provide. As long as they live comfortable lives and can afford the best of everything, they don’t mind the inequalities in our society. They’ll give their husbands free rein in exchange for fancy houses and diamond jewelry.
Yael doesn’t seem interested instuff. She wants substance.
I walk toward the bar cart in the corner of the living room and fix myself a drink, pouring my favorite vodka into a tumbler full of ice and then adding a few lime wedges. The first sip is cool and goes down smooth. It takes the edge off and helps clear my thoughts.
Yael wants to be my equal. I almost laugh at the thought because of the discrepancy in our ages—eighteen and thirty-two. Almost a lifetime of differences, yet she wants me to treat her as an equal? Maybe in time, once she grows into her role as my wife.
Love, on the other hand . . . I don’t even know what it looks like or how to tell if I am in love. There is certainly a mutual respect between my parents, but do they love each other? No. I am positive my brothers do not love their wives, although they are much younger and their relationships newer. And while one of my sisters seems absolutely miserable in her marriage, the other seems perfectly content. How could I possibly give Yael something I don’t understand?
Like most women in Ripley, she will have to settle for disappointment.
11