Sydney lay next to him, not saying a word. She knew that they were both in a little disbelief that she had agreed to stay with him. "Don't you have business to do?" she asked.
"You are my top priority, Syd."
She sat up. "And you sound like a hopeless romantic, Mr. Sark. I never would have guessed that one."
"A boy has to have his secrets. Otherwise, the women will live him for younger, more intriguing men." Sark stood up and offered his hand to Sydney.
She accepted and found herself being led back downstairs. "Where are we going?"
"It's getting late. I'm sure you're hungry."
She was about to deny it when her stomach growled loudly. "All right. I guess I am. So, where are we going?"
Sark looked at her in confusion. "I don't know where you go when you're hungry, but I usually try to go to the kitchen."
"Oh. I thought you were taking me out somewhere to get food."
"That wasn't in our agreement. You agree to spend your vacation time here with me. In this house. We're not going to leave."
"What about clothes?" she asked as he led her down the spiral staircase into the kitchen.
"Who needs clothes?" he said with a smirk. Seeing her horrified look, he laughed. "I'm just kidding. There are some clothes in boxes in the basement. I packed them up a few weeks ago. Couldn't stand seeing your clothes without having you here to wear them."
Sydney took a seat at one of the breakfast stools while Sark began rifling through the cupboards. He stood up with a bag of sugar in his hands and nodded towards a door on the left wall. "Why don't you go downstairs and get some clothes to change in to? I'll have the food started by the time you get back."
"You can actually cook?" she said with a shocked look on her face.
"A sophisticated guy like me? Of course I can cook." He smiled at her. "It's how I get the ladies."
She laughed and went through the door he had pointed out. He had spoken the truth. There were about ten boxes full of clothes. She recognized a lot of them as being her style.
Suddenly she was taken aback. When had she shifted from complete disbelief to complete certainty? When had she decided that Sark was telling her the truth and they had really been in love once?
She was beginning to feel uneasy about being in the house alone with him. Which is why she decided to take her time and go through every box.
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When she made her way back upstairs, she was greeted by the most amazing smell. She sat down on the same stool she had been sitting on earlier and just watched him dart back and forth, checking a pan here, mixing the contents of a bowl there.
After a few minutes, he looked up. Sydney was surprised to see his smile get wider. "What do you have there?" he said, nodding at the clothes in her hand.
"I found these in the boxes of my clothes. I think they're yours."
"They are mine. But then, so is that t-shirt you're wearing."
"Oh."
Sark laughed. "They're yours, though. You stole them from me. You said they reminded you of me when I couldn't be around. Something about my natural smell being embedded on them. I can't say I ever really understood. It must have been a girl thing."
Sydney couldn't help it. She lifted the clothes in her hands up to her nose and sniffed. There was a distinct musky, male smell to them. "They smell familiar," she stated simply. She set the clothes down on the counter. "What are you making?"
"Your favorite," he said without thinking.
"Snow crab pasta primavera?" she answered back without thinking.
"Yeah." Sark looked up at her as he realized what was going on.
"I guess some things don't change," she said with a smile. "What else?"
"Caramel cheesecake."
"All right. I believe you. You do know the way to my heart." She stood up and walked over to where he was standing. "What can I do to help?"
He looked over and smiled at her. "I have it under control." He saw her looking at him strangely. "What's the matter?"
"You have a little…" She reached out and brushed the batter on his face away lightly with her finger. It didn't go without notice that her hand lingered a little longer than necessary on his cheek.
Absentmindedly, Sydney licked the batter off of her finger. "You shouldn't do that," she heard him say.
Looking up at him, her heart fluttered when she saw Sark's eyes darken with what she could only assume was desire. She wasn't used to having this dramatic effect on him. In the back of her head, a little voice admitted that she could get used to this.
"I have a question," she said, trying to break the intense mood.
"Ask me anything you want, Sydney." Sark had turned back to the cooking in an obvious attempt to try to keep control of himself.
"If you and I were trying to hide from the CIA, how did we end up back in Los Angeles?"
"Are you sure you want to hear this? We could take it a little slow at first." She nodded at him to go ahead and tell her. "When you agreed to marry me in Berlin, we figured it was time we returned home. A whole life on the run wasn't really in our plans, and as much as we were dreading it, it was actually nice to return to the States. And you wanted to tell your father and mother about us."
"Now that's hard to believe."
"I didn't believe it myself. But you told me that you weren't going to feel ashamed for what had happened between us. And that if they really loved you, they would accept your feelings for me." He grinned at her. "I think you're the bravest woman I've ever met, Sydney Bristow."
"I would have to be if I was willing to fight my father on that issue." She walked over to the stove and stirred the sauce on the burner. "Is this the kind of night we had normally?"
"Pretty much."
"What does pretty much mean?"
"I have to say that the mood was always a little lighter than it is right now." He walked out of the room and a few seconds later, Sydney heard one of her favorite songs echoing through the house.
Sark came back into the room and held his hand out to her. "May I have this dance?"
Sydney slid her hand into his, and he slowly twirled her around the kitchen floor. She got chills down her spine as she felt Sark's breath near her ear as he sang softly to her. "You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you."
He spun her around in a small circle and then pulled her back in close to his body. "I always thought you would be a good dancer."
"You're not so bad yourself, Bristow."
It should have worried her, but the domestic feeling that was creeping into her heart felt natural. And when Sark kissed her lightly on the outer corner of her eye, she couldn't help but sigh.
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A week later, Sydney found herself sitting on the couch in the front room typing away on her laptop and cursing Sloane rather vocally for giving her work to do while she was on vacation. As much as she hated to admit it, her life felt normal here in this house with Sark. He wasn't pushing her to do anything she didn't want to. In fact, he was almost discouraging it. Her opinion of him had slowly begun to change.
And the fact that he was currently sitting on the other end of the couch watching TV and absentmindedly rubbing her feet which happened to be in his lap didn't hurt her opinion of him, either.
The ring of Sydney's cell phone interrupted their happy little scene. Sark groaned as she reached over and picked it up off the coffee table. She laughed at the face he was making while she checked the caller ID. When she saw who it was, her face paled.
"What's wrong?" he asked over the still ringing phone.
"It's Vaughn," she whispered.
"Don't pick it up."
"I have to," she said with a frown. She hit the answer button and put the phone up to her ear. "Bristow."
"Syd, it's me," said the familiar voice on the other end.
"Hey."
"Hey back. How's your vacation going? Are you getting your head straightened out?"
"I'm trying my best," she said, looking intently at Sark. "It's a little hard, though. There have been… distractions."
Sark grinned at her wickedly. Before she knew what was happening, he had leaned over and was trailing kisses along her neck. She tried to swat him away, but it wasn't really working. It's not like she actually wanted him to stop.
"Syd? Are you listening?" Vaughn asked.
"I'm sorry. You caught me while I was trying to type up something to help organize my thoughts. I was a little wrapped up."
"Not a problem. When are you coming home? I miss you."
"I don't know. I have another week of vacation left." Sydney almost laughed when she saw the gleam of hope in Sark's eye. It seems like there were two men in her life that wanted that week all to themselves.
"Come home early. You can hole yourself up in my apartment."
"I can't. I really need to figure these things out."
Vaughn sighed. She could practically imagine him on the other end, a worried look on his face, hands running through his hair in frustration. "All right. Just try to keep me updated. I want to see you as soon as you get back."
Sydney bit her lip to keep from moaning. Sark's hands had begun to roam a little too much for comfort. "Okay. I promise. Good bye."
She could hear Vaughn hesitate slightly before saying goodbye. In her mind, she couldn't help thinking that he was debating whether or not to say I love you. "It's better that he didn't," she thought to herself.
Turning her mind back to the problem on hand, she pulled Sark's head up to her eye level. "What the hell do you think you were doing?" He gave her an innocent look. "Oh don't play that card with me!"
"What?" he said, continuing with the innocent act.
"I'm getting a shower," she informed him, standing up.
He watched in silence as she left the room. "Yeah, that definitely got to her," he murmured to himself. "She's starting to crack."
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After a few minutes of standing under the spray of icy cold water, Sydney finally got herself to calm down. She felt horrible about yelling at Sark. It wasn't like she was actually mad about him. She had never told him to keep his hands off when she talked with Vaughn. That would make the whole situation seem too married-woman-other-man like.
The real reason she yelled at him was she was afraid of the feelings he was stirring up inside of her. She knew that the phone call from Vaughn cooled her off a little, but if Sark had kept up what he had been doing, she didn't think she could hold herself responsible for her actions.
She heard noises coming from the bedroom, and she silently cursed herself for forgetting to shut the bathroom door. She flipped the water off quickly and went to open the shower door. But it was already open. And, like the first time she had seen this house, Sark was standing in front of her in just a towel.
"Don't get out because of me," he said with a smirk.
She tried her best to discretely cover herself without him noticing. "What are you doing?"
"I need to shower too, you know. And stop doing that." He grabbed her arms and pulled them to her side. "You're too beautiful to cover up."
She looked into his eyes for a moment, trying to gauge if he was speaking the truth or if it was just another one of his lines. Before she could stop herself, she grabbed the back of his neck and brought his lips crashing to hers.
Sark managed to grab the shower door and close it behind himself as Sydney reached down with one hand to unfasten his towel. She let her hands roam up and down his chest. It felt so good to just let her emotions control her actions for once. She had never realized how much she wanted to just feel his body pressed up against hers, the weight and solidness of it, his smooth skin, his beating heart. She didn't want to have to worry about the consequences at this moment. She just wanted to be lost in him.
He pushed her up against the back wall of the shower and fumbled to turn the water on again. It took him at least three tries as her hands were freely roaming in areas that he had never guessed she would want to stray. As the ice cold water poured down on them, Sydney gasped.
"Were you taking a cold shower, Miss Bristow?" Sark asked between kisses. "Now why was that?"
"Don't talk," she growled. She felt her weight being lifted off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His kisses moved their way from her collarbone down to her breasts. For a moment, she focused on her total disbelief at what she was about to do with one of her largest adversaries.
Then the day-old stubble on his chin rubbed the sensitive curve of her breast, and she lost all thought. Her hands grasped his back roughly, and she could hear him hiss as her nails dug in. His hands were making their way up and down her body with such complete control and care.
All thoughts of the problems in her life were dashed away as she felt him slip his fingers inside her and begin to move at a steady pace. She cried out his name loudly, not caring if that anyone within five miles could probably hear her. She silently thanked the fact that Sark hadn't tried to heat up the water that was pouring down on them. It was the only thing that was keeping her from losing her head completely.
His eyes met hers, and they mirrored her intensity perfectly. In them, she could see the complete, clear truth. This man loved her unconditionally.
"I want you to make love to me," she said huskily.
"I've been waiting for you to say those words for so long," he whispered as he slowly entered her. It was excruciatingly slow yet astonishingly perfect. "I love you so much."
This wasn't a thing like she had imagined it would be. She had expected him to take her fast and hard, just like she'd seen him do everything else. It wasn't supposed to be this tender. It wasn't supposed to be this full of love. She didn't know what to do with this new side of Sark. And at the moment, she didn't really care.
As she felt herself begin to build, something dawned on her. "You're holding back," she moaned. "Don't. Oh god. Don't."
She saw his eyes flare with desire and want. It was at that moment that she felt the strange pleasure in knowing that she had complete control of him. He pulled back and turned her so that she was cradled in his arms. She growled slightly at the loss she felt without him inside of her.
Sark practically kicked the shower door open in an effort to carry her over to the bed. She smiled at the rightness of that action. They had probably shared so many tender filled nights in this very bed. Instead of picking up where they left off, he surprised her by placing her body on the bed and taking a step back, appreciating.
"You are the most exquisite thing on this earth, Sydney Bristow. Never forget it. I could just look at you forever and be happy."
"Get over here," she said with a smile.
He lay down on the bed next to her. "I want to see you," he said as he slid his hand between her thighs and pressed into her. Her breath quickened. He watched as panic, pleasure, and excitement passed over her face. She could feel herself climbing closer and closer, her breath tearing, her hands clinging to whatever she could find. She finally released a strangled cry as she peaked over the edge.
After a moment, she tried to shake her head clear of the overwhelming feeling, but the dizziness wouldn't go away. She felt drunk and dazed and unspeakably aroused. Sark felt her pull him close to her as she whispered the need for more into his ear in that throaty voice he had always loved best. The voice that had cemented his resolve to become the man he thought she deserved to be with.
"Julian," she whispered, and it was all he could do to contain himself.
Their long, groaning sighs blended together as he positioned himself over her and entered. When he began to move, they moved together, the pace slowly speeding up as she urged for more. Together, almost as if they had never been apart, they drifted over the edge.
Sark let himself fall down into a heap next to her. He trailed a few small kisses on the side of her neck and whispered into her ear. "I've never done that before."
"Come on," she said, looking at him incredulously. "You mean to tell me that you and I have never made love in the shower before?"
He turned to her and grinned. "We never made it to the shower."
"We weren't in there for that long this time, either."
"Next time." When she smiled back at him, he worked up the courage to ask her a question that had been on his mind for a few minutes. "When did you learn my name was Julian?"
"In a dream I had…" She paused wondering if she should be telling him this. "In a dream I had where you proposed to me. It was in Berlin." She laughed, remembering. "My hair was this crazy bright red color, and I was wearing this sleek little black number. You proposed, and then…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the startled look on his face. "What's the matter? What did I say?"
"Sydney, I never told you about the time we spent in Berlin. I never mentioned to you that you had dyed your hair red so that no one would recognize you that easily. And the night I proposed you were wearing a dress I had picked out for you in Munich early that week. A little black dress that looked like it had been made to fit your body. How could you have known all that?"
"I don't know," she admitted. Her face paled as she remembered the rest of her dream. "I didn't walk out on you, did I?"
"No. Why would you think that?"
Sydney let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "No reason."
They sat in silence staring at each other for a moment before he spoke again. "What does this mean, Sydney?"
"I honestly don't know." She cursed herself as she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. The best bet would have been to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. Not after what had just happened between them.
Noticing the tears, he said, "Don't cry. You don't have to think about it now." He reached down and grabbed a blanket that was at the end of the bed. He pulled her into the crook of his arm and used the blanket to cover them both up. "Just get some rest. You can deal with it later."
"When did you get so understanding?" she managed to say before exhaustion took over.
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Sydney yawned and leaned over in bed. She felt the warmth of a body next to hers and smiled. It hadn't been a dream. She was actually lying in bed after a night of making love with Julian Sark. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Julian," she whispered.
"If I wasn't so secure in myself, I would be slightly put off by the fact that you just said another man's name, Syd."
She froze in horror as she realized it wasn't Sark she was laying next to her. It was Vaughn.
"Michael," she screamed sitting straight up.
"Yes," he said with a smile. "Michael Vaughn. Your husband. Me, Michael. You, Sydney Vaughn."
"Don't patronize me," she said, trying to sound as believable as possible. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in Sark's arms. She didn't know how much time had passed since then.
"I was just kidding. We only got married last night, Syd. I don't expect you to remember that when you're still half asleep." He laughed lightly. "You sound so defensive. Is this something I'm going to have to get used to in our future years of wedded bliss?"
She nodded and lay back down next to him, carefully positioning herself so she was facing away from him. This situation was too hard to process. She felt Vaughn's arms wrap around her as he snuggled in close. "I'm so glad I talked you into coming back from your vacation early. And I can't believe you got everything sorted out in only one week. No more horrible, reoccurring dreams. Just a crazy girl standing on my doorstep begging me to go to Vegas with her."
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Sydney sat straight up in bed. Quickly, she looked over at the man sleeping next to her and was satisfied to see that this time it was the one she expected. Sighing, she carefully got out of the bed without waking up Sark.
She tiptoed down the stairs and into the front room. There hadn't really been time to explore this place any further. Now was as good a time as any, considering she couldn't sleep at all. She grabbed the first book she could find off the shelf. "Anna Karenina," she said to herself. "Must be one of Sark's books."
She flipped it open, and the fact that it was her handwriting on the inscription didn't surprise her. The inscription, however, did.
"Julian, I know you told me that you never read this book, but I know you are lying. I agree with your idea that we need to form a name for our home. Everything good in life has a name. And in the spirit of the book, I've chosen "St. Petersburg". I love you."
Sydney dropped the book out of her hands as her grip lost its strength. The words St. Petersburg echoed through her mind. A previous dream she had had flashed through her thoughts.
She was sitting in bed, after having made love to Vaughn. He accused her of having a forbidden business partnership with Sark. And then he asked her if she had slept with Sark yet. And she had answered yes, in…
"St. Petersburg." It came out as a whisper, but the words carried such weight.
She figured she sat in the dark with just a blanket wrapped around her for a good half hour before Sark woke up and found her. When he did, she refused to explain anything. She just said she had to leave. He asked if she was coming back, but she didn't answer.
She just knew that she had to leave St. Petersburg.