His Wife: The Price of Redemption

Chapter Three

Tobias

"Do not fret because of those who are evil or be envious of those who do wrong; for like the grass they will soon wither, like green plants they will soon die away." Psalm 37:1-2

As a man of artistic pursuits, I'm familiar with breath-stealing beauty. Art in many forms has been able to bring me to my knees, invoke admiration in me that frees me from the shackles of anger and resentment that are always just below the surface ready to devour me.

The woman on Zav Lupu's arm is of familiar taste. Beauty that no woman should possess. The kind that tears empires apart, that brings men to war, that can destroy or build nations.

I am painfully aware that she is not mine.

The large oval diamond on her left hand might as well be a dagger in my chest. It's the closed door in my casket, the final twist of the knife that will end me, surely, because all I can think of in this moment is that I must have her.

With golden, smooth skin, a bright, captivating smile that forms dimples in her cheeks, and honey-colored eyes that admire me closely, all while framed by silky auburn curls, I could lose myself in her beauty. I long to see those curls splayed out atop a pillow in a bed we've claimed as our own, run my thumb over her supple lips, watch them quiver beneath my touch, inhale whatever overwhelmingly wonderful, feminine scent she exudes that will become a staple of what makes me feel at home, all while she adorns a ring that shows the world she is mine and I am hers.

Separating my emotions from my actions is almost impossible when she offers me a hand and a dazzling smile. "Mr. Siegel," she greets with a guarded expression, but she doesn't hide the sparkle of interest in her gaze.

I am compelled to portray the levels of my chivalry. I kiss the back of her hand and smile at her. "I wasn't aware that Zav would be bringing his sister by," I say, implying, hoping there is a semblance of truth to what I've said, and yet, by the offended flare of Zav's nostrils and the amused laugh from the woman, it is as I've suspected.

"Oh, no, no, no," she begins, pulling her hand back to her side. "I am his wife, Naomi."

"Naomi," I parrot, enamored by the name, by the way the corner of her lip twitches when I say it as if she enjoys the sound. "Well, Naomi, I find it hard to believe that a man such as Zav would ever procure any beauty better than that of my findings, and yet here you are."

That strokes Zav's ego more than I cared for.

He presses Naomi tight against his side and beams at her like he's won the biggest prize.

"Mr. Siegel, you flatter me." Naomi waves a modest, dismissive hand before pressing the back of the one I've kissed against her cheeks as they stain pink with embarrassment.

Lord, I cannot seem to control my thoughts. Please, help me.

I need to focus on the matter that I've called Zav here for.

"Call me, Tobias," I correct Naomi.

With a simple nod, she repeats the word. "Tobias."

Once again, I am a man fighting for control against my appetites. She breathes my name like a sigh of relief, with gratitude, awe, hope. Perhaps I'm overthinking. Perhaps my desire has gotten the best of me.

All I know is the moment before I take my last breath, my name on her lips in that half-whisper half-sigh is what I want leading me to my Creator.

"I was surprised to get an invite, Tobias," Zav interjects. He spits my name like speaking it is a disgrace all while maintaining a treacherous smile.