Chapter 414: Viv Kirk
The bathroom door opened slowly. Steam slipped out first before Genevieve stepped out.
Her blonde hair was damp, and loose around her shoulders, and a white bathrobe was wrapped around her body, tied at her waist.
She paused when the smell of food hit her.
Her eyes moved to the table and her stomach rumbled when she saw the lunch displayed on the table.
There was a plate of grilled chicken, golden potatoes roasted with spices, a small bowl of buttered vegetables, fresh bread on the side, and a glass bottle of sparkling water.
Genevieve smiled. "You ordered lunch?" she asked as she walked toward him.
Stefan, who was standing by the window, turned around. His eyes softened the moment he saw her. For a second, he didn’t speak. He just looked at her like he couldn’t get enough of her.
Then he nodded slightly. "Come," he said gently, taking her hand. "You need to eat."
She smiled a little as she let him lead her to the table. "How did you know I was hungry?"she asked softly.
He pulled out a chair for her. "I’m pretty sure you haven’t eaten all day. And you lost weight," he said simply.
She paused, then gave a small nod and sat down.
Stefan sat across from her and helped her cut the chicken into smaller pieces.
She picked up the fork slowly and took a bite.
Her shoulders dropped a little. "Wow..." she murmured.
Stefan watched her quietly.
She took another bite, then another.
He didn’t touch his food. He just watched her eat.
"What? Aren’t you going to eat? I doubt you’ve eaten yourself," she said and Stefan smiled.
"Watching you eat makes me full," he said, and she giggled.
"Please eat. I’ll feel more comfortable if you do," she said, and Stefan picked up his cutlery.
They ate in silence for a while, and Genevieve raised a brow. "What’s in your head? You want to say something, don’t you?" She asked, since she had gotten to know him well enough to know when the wheels in his head were turning.
Stefan looked into her eyes. "Do you want us to leave?"
She looked up, a piece of bread still in her hand. "What do you mean?"
"We can leave here. You know, go somewhere else," he said. "Start fresh. Just us. You can change your name and not have to worry about anything."
"And your job?" She asked to see how serious he was.
"I’ll quit. I’ve got a lot of money saved and I can easily get a job somewhere else," Stefan said easily.
She blinked, then frowned. "Are you serious?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Why would I want that?" she asked slowly. "Why would you want that?"
Stefan’s brows pulled together. "It would be safer," he said. "You’ll be safe. No drama. No danger."
She shook her head. "I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want that." She placed the fork down and looked at him properly. "I don’t want to take you away from your family. I don’t want to uproot you from everything you care about."
"You will be my family..."
"You may feel you’re not part of them," she continued softly, cutting them off, "but I know you are. And I know that deep down you know it too."
"They won’t mind. They will understand..."
Her voice was calm but sure. "I mind. I want that. I want us to be part of the family." She added. Her eyes dropped for a second, then lifted again. "I also want to be part of Dawn and Josh’s life."
Stefan watched her, listening.
"I want normal friendships... like what you have with Jamal, Callan, Emily, and Mari."
Stefan’s jaw tightened slightly.
"If you can think of uprooting yourself and leaving all of that for me," she said, "then you can think of staying for me and deepening your roots, right?"
He didn’t speak.
"I want roots, Stefan," she whispered. "I want to belong to a normal family. I want my kids... our kids to have a normal background with loving aunts and uncles."
Silence filled the room.
She tilted her head slightly. "You already have all of that, so why do you stand outside it simply because you are not related by blood?"
Stefan exhaled slowly. "I’m not standing outside. I’m just careful."
"Careful of what?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don’t want to overstep."
She frowned. "Has anyone ever made you feel like you overstepped?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
He hesitated. "I don’t want to be made to feel that way. Ever. I told you before. I learned to know my place early. I don’t expect too much."
Genevieve’s heart softened at that and she reached for his hand. "I get what you mean, but right now you’re not even stepping at all. You’re under-stepping if such a word exists. Didn’t you hear how annoyed Jamal sounded earlier? Uncle Harry sounded annoyed so too. Overstepping only happens when people lack basic courtesy, and you don’t. And when you’re unsure whether you’re overstepping or not, you can ask."
Stefan didn’t answer. He remembered how annoyed Emily had been the last time too when he implied Jamal was her friend not him.
Before Genevieve could say anything else, his phone rang.
Although he didn’t recognize the call, he picked it up. "Hello?"
"Mr. Kirk," a calm male voice said. "I’m Pascal. I’m from Mr. Jonas. We’re at the Oak Ridge Hotel."
Stefan straightened. "I’ll talk to the receptionist..."
"There won’t be any need for that. We were given strict instructions not to let the hotel know we’re here because of you," the man quickly explained. "We are in suite 412."
Stefan raised a brow. "You keep saying we."
"Yes. I’m here with the makeover artist, Avila. She will be at your door in five minutes."
"Alright. I’ll be expecting her," Stefan said, then the call ended.
Stefan lowered the phone and looked at Genevieve. "They’re here."
Genevieve’s brows pulled together. "Won’t they recognize me? What if they say something?"
"If they’re from Uncle Harry, they’ll keep quiet," Stefan said confidently.
She rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh really? If you trust Uncle Harry so much, why were you trying to hide things from him?"
Stefan frowned slightly. "Why are you attacking me?"
She laughed softly. "Maybe because this is the first time I’m seeing this side of you. The not wanting to overstep side, I mean."
He raised a brow. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re with me because of the Hanks."
Her expression changed instantly. The first response on the tip of her tongue was a harsh one, but then she remembered what he told her about the lady that got close to him because she wanted access to Jamal.
She smiled at him instead. "I don’t need you for that. How can you help me get close to the Hanks when you’re closer to the Jonas family? If I want to be close to the Hanks, Dawn and Jamal are the right people."
Stefan held her gaze. "I said if I didn’t know better. I didn’t say that’s what I think."
She smiled. "Good thing you know better then. Don’t say annoying stuff like that," she said, then softened. "I’m sorry if I was being too critical and it rubbed you up the wrong way."
He shook his head. "It’s fine. I heard all you said. I’m going to try to stop understepping and find a balance between that and overstepping."
Genevieve giggled. "Sounds good to me."
A knock sounded on the door and both of them turned.
"That would be the makeover artist," Stefan said as he walked to the door and opened it.
A lady with pink hair and heavy makeup stood there with a large box in hand.
Stefan looked from her to the box. "What’s in there?"
"Clothes and makeup items," she said. "Pascal will be here in a couple of minutes. He’s here for documentation to help her get a new passport."
Stefan stepped aside. "Come in."
She walked in quickly. The box was placed on the table and opened to reveal clothes, wigs, makeup kits, and shoes.
The room changed in seconds.
Genevieve eyed her makeup skeptically and she smiled when she noticed.
"You don’t have to worry. This is my own disguise," she said simply.
"How can we trust you to keep quiet?" Stefan asked her, watching from the side.
She smiled. "You don’t have to. Mr Jonas does."
Before Stefan could say anything else, a knock sounded on the door again, and Stefan opened for Pascal.
The man took out his tablet the moment he walked in. "We need a new name," he said. "Do you have any in mind?"
Genevieve looked at Stefan, then back at them.
"Viv Kirk."
And just like that, they got to work.
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