(Jenna's POV)

*Please be sure to listen to the 2 songs below to set the mood*

I don't know what caused the sudden shift in Mr. Rykov's mood, but he's being very quiet and distant.

Maybe dinner isn't such a good idea anymore...

We once again pull up in front of the castle where he helps me out of the car and ushers me inside.

The silence between us is making me feel uncomfortable.

As we pass the grand staircase, a brunette lady dressed in old-fashioned maid garb wishes us a good evening, but the way she does almost make her sound oddly hopeful...I don't know.

Weird. 

Instead of going to the dining room as usual, we arrive in the conservatory.

And I'm in awe at the sight before me...

There's a table for two with candles set-up near the fountain and strings of small white twinkle lights have been woven throughout the trees and plants, casting a soft glow about the dark, glass, jungle-like room, making it appear as a magical fantasy land.

Nearby is an old Victrola with a large brass horn – a lot fancier than the one at the gatehouse.

"I thought we could dine in here this evening since the dining hall is not as...intimate," he says, breaking the silence.

"It's beautiful," I reply timidly, overwhelmed by it all.

I've never been on a date, yet somehow, this oddly feels like my first one...

No...just no.

I can't afford to entertain such thoughts.

But this setting...it could definitely be considered romantic.

I swallow hard and my palms become sweaty.

Once we are seated, he lifts a bottle of wine from an ice bucket beside the table and pours us both a small amount into our wine glasses.

I've only tried wine once when my mom let me have a sip at her friend's wedding and it tasted like vinegar.

"Never fear...this is a high-quality white dessert wine," he says, obviously noticing my hesitance.

"I've only tried wine once and it was...an acquired taste," I reply. "Besides...I'm not 21 yet," I remind him.

Ah, yes...but those are American rules," he waves it off. "Here, wine is the lifeblood for all ages...and this is only 16% alcohol," he smirks. "That said, this is a very rare vintage – 1986 Gratieshty collection white wine, produced from grapes of the variety Rkatiteli, selected in the best harvest years and aged in oak barrels, followed by aging in bottles for at least three years," he begins.

So...this wine is older than me. Is it even safe to drink?

"This year offers an intense aroma of wildflowers and the taste is fresh, delicate, and piquant. The limited number of bottles put into the collection in a certain year is rightly considered the pride of Cricova and makes this wine truly precious," he finishes, though I didn't understand much of what he said.

He must notice the clueless look upon my face, so he continues.

"I don't know if you are aware, but Moldova is known for its caves and wine. In fact, the world's largest wine cellar, stretching an impressive 200 km (125 miles) and filled with nearly 2 million bottles of wine, is right here in this country, below us," he points to the ground.

"Wow," I reply in a whisper. I'm no wine enthusiast or expert, but that is pretty impressive.

"Yes, wow," he chuckles. "It has been internationally celebrated and been recognized as the largest quality wine collection in the world by Guinness World Records," he says as he elegantly spreads his napkin across his lap. "It's called Mileștii Mici, and it's like an underground wine city. The winding tunnels have been given street names to help people navigate them and all streets have been named after different wine types. In fact, it's so large, you can travel through it by car or bus, and staff ride bikes through the tunnels to get around. I'll take you there soon, if you like," he smiles. "There are also the Cricova wine tunnels that stretch a more modest 70 km (44 miles), with a smaller wine collection of 1.2 million bottles. We'll go there as well."

"Sure," I smile. It might be fun...and I'll learn to be more cultured. 

He picks up a small silver bell and rings it. Anton appears; only he's dressed as an old-fashioned butler or waiter, with a crisp, white hand towel draped across his forearm, matching his white gloves.

"Good evening, miz," he greets and I smile with a nod. 

"A little music please, Anton," Mr. Rykov requests.

"Certainly, sir," Anton bows his head before walking over to the Victrola and winding it up and setting the needle down on the record.

An old song begins, and I'm shocked at how lovely it sounds.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

"I will return shortly with your meal," Anton says before excusing himself.

"This is a nice tune," I compliment. It really sets the mood.

"Yes...my tastes when it comes to music are quite broad, but I do find music from the 20's, 30's and 40's most appealing," he smiles charmingly.

"I'm not really familiar with those eras as far as music goes, but if they sound like this, then I'll have to agree with you," I smile in return.

"I'm glad that you like it," he says with a twinkle in his black eyes.

Anton returns and places our meals before us, and then asks if we'd like anything else.

Mr. Rykov looks to me and I tell him I'm fine.

With that, Anton excuses himself once more, disappearing into the lush vegetation.

I look down and it's some kind of fancy looking orange soup.

"It is pumpkin cream soup, foie gras, with candied pumpkin seeds and Comte," he tells me before raising his wine glass.

"A toast first..." he looks at me expectantly, so I pick my glass up.

"May tonight be an opportunity for us to get to know one another...not just as employer and employee, but hopefully as...friends," he grins. "So to that, I say, may your time here be prosperous and everything you ever dreamed of. Noroc...cheers!"

"Cheers," I smile as I gently clink my glass into his, feeling like an adult.

I take a tentative sip and am surprised by how good it is.

The soup is delicious and filling...but then Anton clears it away and brings out another course.

"Ah...this is beef filet, rösti potatoes, mashed carrot with beef sauce and truffle foam," he tells me and it looks like something you'd see on TV or in a magazine.

Anton puts on another record as we eat our wonderful meal...well...what I have room for anyway, which isn't much.

Mr. Rykov pours me some more wine and I thank him.

This has turned out to be such a great night, helping me forget the crazy spider web nonsense back at my house, and I can tell that he...or at least his staff, went to a lot of trouble for all of this. 

"Mr. Rykov," I get his attention.

"Please, no more Mr. Rykov. It makes me feel old," he chuckles. Call me Nikolai," he smiles and sets his fork down.

"Okay...Nikolai," I grin, liking that so much better...although Nik would be cuter. "I wanted to say sorry," I begin, but he looks at me in confusion. "You know...for whatever I said earlier to upset you," I say sincerely.

"Jenna, no..." he shakes his head. "There is absolutely nothing to apologize for," he assures me. "I guess I am just...sensitive sometimes when it comes to spiders...since they are my livelihood after all."

"I understand," I say, but if he only knew that there's one down at my house that can spell, I think he'd change his mind.

"This is your home now, and I don't want you to be afraid of them," he adds.

"I'll try," I reply reluctantly. "It's just...I have arachnophobia pretty bad. I mean, I think most people do or at least us girls anyway," I giggle a bit uncomfortably.

"Well, we shall have to cure you of your arachnophobia then," he smiles debonairly before standing and tossing his napkin on his chair. 

"Excuse me for a moment," he says before walking over to the Victrola. He selects a record and carefully places it on the turntable before giving it a few more cranks and setting the needle down.

He walks back over to me and holds out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

"Yes," I answer as I feel my face get hot.

I don't know how to dance, but for him, I'm sure going to give it a try.

He leads me to an open area before taking me in his arms. I always feel funny when he's around or touches me, but now I'm positively tingling all over.

It must be the wine...yeah right.

We begin to sway as a man begins to sing.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

I don't need your photograph to keep by my bed

Your picture is always in my head

I don't need your portrait, dear, to call you to mind

For sleeping or waking, dear, I find

The very thought of you

And I forget to do

The little ordinary things

That everyone ought to do

The way he's looking down at me, despite the difference in our height, nearly makes me melt.

I'm living in a kind of daydream

I'm happy as a king

And foolish, though it may seem

I find myself drawing closer to him...seemingly drunk on his scent that is so much more intense in person. 

Why, to me, that's everything

The mere idea of you

The longing here, for you

Oh God...why am I feeling this way...?

You'll never know

How slow the moments go

'Till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

There certainly are a lot of flowers in here...

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

The mere idea of you

The longing here, for you

My hands grip the back of his jacket even tighter as the words seem to penetrate my soul while his hands caress my back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You'll never know

How slow the moments go

'Till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

As the song comes to an end, he's bent down – our faces are somehow mere inches apart...as if we're going to kiss.

I shake my head, coming to my senses, trying to clear the fog of desire that I'm feeling, and reluctantly step away.

"Jenna...I am so sorry. I didn't mean to –" he begins remorsefully, but I cut him off.

"It's okay...it's the wine, I think," I wave it off, even though it's total bullshit, and from the look on his face, he knows its bullshit too. 

There's a spark there between us...no...an entire arsenal of fireworks, but I can't act on it – we can't act on it.

"Would you like to step out onto the terrace and take in a bit of fresh air?" he suggests in a strained voice. 

"Sure," I sigh as he leads me to a set of glass French doors. 

Way to ruin the night, Jenna!

A/N : Do you think Nik was romantic enough? Could you have resisted his spidery charms? Jenna sure is trying not to give in! Poor Nik. Lol How long can she last like this? Please let me know what you think. ❤️

🕷PLEASE VOTE & COMMENT!!!🕷