Chapter Four

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Annabelle had stayed in bed much later than usual that morning, nursing the headache that Hank had predicted. Boris had risen early, while she was still sleeping, and spent most of the morning taking care of estate business. He had texted her several times during the morning, checking on her; they were meeting for a late lunch out on the patio.

Annabelle took her time getting ready, but no matter how much she fussed with her hair and makeup, she couldn't hide the bruise or the stitches on her forehead. "Bloody hell?!" She grimaced at the bruised face looking back at her in the mirror, and tugged at her bangs in one more futile attempt to hide her injury.

"Now. . .what DOES one wear to an après hurricane luncheon?!" Normally, Annabelle loved dressing up when she was with Boris. And, Lord knows, Boris was ALWAYS dressed up; the word 'casual' just didn't seem to be in his lexicon. She just knew that, even in the aftermath of the hurricane, he'd show up for lunch looking like he just stepped out of GQ Magazine, dressed in one of his expensive Italian suits and sporting a brightly colored silk pocket square!

But she was feeling rather contrary this morning; she was tired, her headache had yet to subside, and she was more than a little cranky! For one brief shining moment, she considered showing up for lunch in her pajamas; then, smiling, she shook her head to erase the image of Boris spontaneously combusting?! "Oh, bollox!" She sighed, and listlessly shuffled clothes back and forth, still not seeing anything that she really wanted to wear. Suddenly, she smiled. "Eureka! I have found it!" Her Goldilocks skirt! Well, that's what she called it. Not too long, not too short, not too loose, not too tight; it was just right! A slender column of black jersey perfection!

She pulled her skirt on; her new black and white striped Calvin Klein t-shirt completed the outfit. After a quick search, she found her black and white hoop earrings, and then, wanting some color, added her wristwatch with the yellow patent leather band, and her favorite yellow Anne Klein shoes. Annabelle looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time, and ruefully shook her head. "Ah, vanity, thy name is Annabelle?!" Suddenly, her stomach grumbled! "OK, OK!" She grabbed her sunglasses, and out the door she went, softly singing "we're off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

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The hurricane, which had blown through the night before, was now making its way up the coast toward New England. Morning in the Hamptons had dawned quietly,with crystal blue skies and bright sunshine. Too bright, thought Annabelle, as she carefully put on her over-sized sunglasses and walked out onto the patio.

Annabelle was sitting, drinking a glass of iced tea with mint, when Boris finally joined her. He kissed the top of her head gently, not wanting to hurt her. "It is good to see you up and about, Prinzessin! How do you feel?"

Annabelle took her black and white Prada sunglasses off andlooked up at Boris, squinting against the sun. "Well, let me ask you; how do I LOOK?!"

He studied her face for a moment, trying not to wince when he looked at the stitches and the bruise on her forehead. "Ja. . .well. . .given the circumstances, you look. . .you look. . ."

"Yes? I look. . .what, Boris? Use your words!" Annabelle was enjoying his discomfiture.

Boris shook his head. "All right, Annabelle. There is no need for sarcasm. You were hit in the face with a door; admittedly, you look somewhat the worse for wear!"

Annabelle, flashing Boris a sweet smile, interrupted. "Oh, Boris – you sweet talker, you!"

Boris shrugged his shoulders, frustrated; Annabelle certainly knew how to push his buttons! "Well, at this point, Prinzessin, your appearance is irrelevant." Annabelle started to protest; Boris held up his hand to stop her. "Annabelle, you cannot undo your. . .accident. Your face is bruised; it will heal. And I will not love you any less for the bruises! So! The more important question is. . .how do you FEEL?!"

Annabelle raised her glass of iced tea in a mock salute. "Nice save, Boris!" She took a sip of the tea. "To answer your question. . .I think I actually feel better than I look. And Hank was here earlier; he gave me a clean bill of health!"

"Excellent! That is good news, Prinzessin! But. . ."

"But, what, Boris?!"

Boris shrugged his shoulders. "I expected Hank to apprise me of your condition."

"I see. Well, you were busy, and Hank got called away on a real emergency." Annabelle carefully put her sunglasses back on. "And it was MY face that got smashed, Boris; why should Hank be apprising YOU of MY condition?!"

Boris stretched his arms out to the side, then crossed them over his chest. "Because you are here, in MY home, Annabelle, AND because I CARE about you!"

"Hmph! AND. . .because you like to be in CONTROL!" Now it was Boris's turn to protest, but Annabelle held up her hand and stopped him. "Oh, PLEASE! Just stop, Boris! I'm not going to argue with you; it's just going to make my head hurt!"

Boris put his hands up in mock surrender. "Very well." Boris took a sip of iced tea, and decided to change the subject. "Oh, I have another bit of news!"

Annabelle was gently rubbing her forehead, trying, unsuccessfully, to massage her headache away. "Good news, I hope?!"

Smiling, Boris sat back in his chair. "Ja! My workers went to your beach house early this morning."

"Oh, bloody hell?! With everything that happened last night, I honestly forgot about my house! I do still HAVE a house, I hope?"

He smiled. "Ja, your beach houseis still standing, and it weathered the storm remarkably well! My men cleaned up all the debris, and returned everything to its proper place!"

"Well, that's a relief! Once again, you have come to my rescue!"

"I was happy to help, Prinzessin. But, I am afraid that there was one casualty."

"A. . .casualty? Say what, now?"

"Ja. Very tragic. A garden gnome was inadvertently left behind up on your widow's walk, and, unfortunately, met with an untimely end."

"Oh, no! Not Alfie?!"

Boris shook his head, as if to clear it. "You NAMED your garden gnomes?"

"Well, yes! Don't you?!"

"Hmph! Annabelle, formal gardens do not. . .ah. . .lend themselves to garden gnomes! To my knowledge, there ARE NO garden gnomes residing here at Shadow Pond, named or otherwise?!"

"That's really sad, Boris!" Annabelle grinned at Boris. "You KNOW what you're getting for Christmas, right?! For the man who has everything. . .garden gnomes!"

Before Boris could protest, two servants began serving lunch. The crisp green salads with grilled shrimp looked delicious!

"All kidding aside, Boris; thank you, again, for securing my house. You didn't have to do that for me!"

Boris shook his head and smiled. "Annabelle. . .I want to take care of you because I love you, NOT because I am in any way obligated to do so! I would do more. . .but you seldom allow me the privilege!"

That seemed to make her uncomfortable. "I know. . .and I do appreciate it!" Annabelle carefully buttered a roll. "So. . .when can I go home?"

Boris looked disappointed. "Do you really want to go home?"

Annabelle hesitated before she answered. "Well, no. Actually, I thought maybe I'd stay another day or two. . .until my head is feeling better."

"Sehr gut! For once. . .you are seeing things MY way! You will stay here and let me take care of you!"

"Boris. . .I don't really NEED you to take care of me!" She speared a shrimp with her fork, and pointed it in his direction. "I'm really only staying because the food here is better than any restaurant in the Hamptons!"

Boris slammed his hand down on the table; Annabelle winced with pain at the sound. "Damn it, Annabelle! Why do you ALWAYS do this?"

"Do WHAT? And lower your voice, PLEASE! You're killing me!"

"Why do you ALWAYS push me away?!"

Annabelle looked confused. "I wasn't aware that I WAS pushing you away! Boris, I was joking! Must you ALWAYS take yourself so seriously?!"

Boris shook his head. "I just do not understand you, Annabelle! I share my life with you. . .I share my home with you. . .I share my BED with you. . .and still I do not know you! You will not allowit! EVERY time I try to get close to you, you push me away, with a joke, or a sarcastic remark! I was frantic last night when you were injured. . .and here you sit, making jokes. . .at my expense! Maybe you SHOULD go home. . .since you obviously do not need – or want – me to take care of you?!"

"Boris, I'm sorry; PLEASE don't yell at me!" Annabelle reached for his hand, but he pulled it away, and picked up his water glass instead. "You're right; and I don't often admit that! I suppose I DO make it. . .difficult. . .for you. But, once again, you're judging me. . .without really knowing me?!"

"Hmph?! A bit of a conundrum, would you not agree? I have a very busy afternoon, Annabelle; could you be a little LESS cryptic? Bitte?"

Annabelle sighed deeply. "I guess I deserved that."

He was regretting his harsh words already. "Nein; you did not!" Now Boris reached for her hand, and she let him take it. "Annabelle?" She was trying very hard not to make eye contact. "Annabelle. . .bitte, look at me!" Sighing, Annabelle took her sunglasses off. When she finally met his gaze, he could see tears shimmering in her green eyes. He felt badly, knowing that his angry words had caused her pain. "Talk to me, Annabelle. Help me to understand!"

Annabelle shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "Old habits die hard, my love?!" Boris looked confused; he opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I know; I'm still being cryptic. Boris, you have to understand. I grew up hiding from my grandfather, literally AND figuratively! My grandfather took great pleasure in. . .hurting me. It was his way of controlling me. If he knew what I was thinking, or feeling, I was vulnerable! And I HATED that feeling! So. . . I got REALLY good at hiding! You can't hurt me if you can't really find me! Eventually, hiding just became second nature to me!"

"Annabelle, you are the most confusing, frustrating, EXASPERATING creature I have ever met?! Your grandfather is a despicable man – and I resent being tarred with the same brush?! I love you, Annabelle, and I want only the best for you.I DO NOT want to control you!

"Lord knows, Boris, I REALLY want to believe that! But, sometimes. . .I think you just can't help yourself!"

"Well, Annabelle, I do not know what else I can say, or do, to convince you?! Eventually, you must either take a leap of faith, or move on. It is in your hands, Prinzessin!"

Annabelle shook her head, and gave Boris a long, speculative look. "So, if I stay, you'll take care of me? NO strings attached?"

"That isall I have EVER wanted to do, Annabelle!"

"So. . .will you bring me breakfast in bed?"

"Anthony is at your beck and call, Prinzessin!"

"Yes, but will you let me put ketchup on my scrambled eggs without calling me a Visogoth?"

Boris shuddered, then sighed. "Ja!"

"Will you give me the chance to win back my Monopoly money?"

"Of course!"

"But will you let me cheat?"

"Annabelle?!"

"Boris!"

Boris shook his head. "Ahhhhh. . .the sacrifices one makes for love?! Yes, Prinzessin, I will even allow you to cheat!"

"Will you buy me a pony?"

"Will I. . .what did you say?!"

Annabelle started to giggle. "Boris. . .I'm KIDDING! It's a joke! I'm sorry! You didn't REALLY expect me to stop joking with you. . .did you?!"

"Well. . .no. . .I suppose not! But. . .you must be punished! No pony for you!"

"Damn! No pony?"

"Nein; no pony!"

"Well. . .if I can't have a pony, can I at least have dessert?"

"You must eat ALL of your salad; then you may have dessert!"

"You drive a hard bargain, Boris!"

"I am known as a ruthless negotiator, Prinzessin!"

Annabelle gave Boris a speculative look. "Good to know, mein herr! Of course, there IS more than one way to negotiate?!"

Boris's eyes widened, just a bit, when he felt Annabelle's foot slowly rubbing his calf. Hesitating, he cleared his throat. "And, ah, what would we be negotiating, Prinzessin?!"

Annabelle was trying very hard not to giggle, and was just barely succeeding. "Well. . .I think we may have to re-visit the pony issue?!"

The corner of Boris's mouth quirked into a little half-smile. "Hmpf?! We shall see, Annabelle. I find, however, that I am unfamiliar with your style of, ah, negotiating?!"

"Ha!" Annabelle could no longer control her giggles; her foot moved higher, up toward his thigh.

"It is unfortunate, however, Annabelle, that you suffered a debilitating injury last evening, is it not?!"

"My debilitating. . .WHAT?! Oh. . .I get it?!" She gently tapped her head. "My concussion. My HEADACHE, right?!"

"Ja! I am certain that, in your weakened state, you will not be able to continue with your. . .ah . . . negotiations?!"

"DAMN! Hoisted on my own petard?! So. . .no pony?!"

"Annabelle! You are incorrigible?!"

Annabelle chuckled. "Boris, you say that like it's a bad thing?!"

At that moment, the white-gloved servant arrived to serve dessert; delicate Pavlovas, topped with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

Smiling, Boris picked up his dessert fork. "No more talk of ponies, Prinzessin. Eat your dessert!"

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I apologize for not updating in almost a year, but sometimes, life just gets in the way?! I hope you enjoy this last chapter; if you do, I would really appreciate some feedback! THANKS!