(Jenna's POV)

"My lady," he says, startling me as he stands beside my opened car door with his hand out to help me.

"Sorry," I reply embarrassedly. I must've totally spaced out there for a few.

"No problem," he smiles as he offers me his arm once more. "Welcome to Castle Rykov," he gestures to the massive doors and around.

"It's...unbelievable," I whisper as I gaze back up at what must be 100 foot tall towers.

"It's home," he chuckles as Anton opens the huge double doors inwardly and greets us.

"Thank you, Anton," Nikolai says as we enter.

"You're most welcome, sir," he replies with a bow.

And again...I'm in complete shock.

There are honestly no words I can say that can even begin to describe such ostentatious beauty and grandeur other than HOLY SHIT!!!

As we walk into the palatial space, filled with things that look as if they should be in a museum, its dark, and there's a bit of a damp chill in the air, despite the morning sun. 

"How long have you lived here?" I ask as my voice echoes a bit in the cavernous space.

As we walk, I gawk at the enormous old portrait paintings in gilt frames and large marble busts on pedestals that share resemblances with Nikolai.

"All of my life," he smiles. 

"That's awesome," I grin. "I lived in the same house all of my life as well...until I came here," I look away for a moment, trying not to let it get to me.

As if he senses my sadness, he places his hand over mine that is joined around his arm in a soothing manner. "I hope that you will come to think of this as your home soon," he smiles.

"I'll try," I blush as we continue to walk. "So...do you...live here alone?" I ask doubtfully, but needing to know once and for all.

"Afraid so...all by my lonesome self," he chuckles sadly as he looks around the massive, ornate space before looking back at me. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," I answer with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. "Just curious is all."

What a relief...

That still doesn't mean that he's single, I remind myself.

"Well, Anton and a few others live here in the castle, but the other staff lives on the grounds," he tells me.

"Like me," I grin, feeling lucky just to be here...work here. 

"Yes...like you," he frowns, and I wonder why. "This way," he says as he leads me through this massive, dark, moody maze that he calls home, one room seemingly larger and fancier than the last as we go.

Finally we enter a dining room covered in carved, ornate, dark wood paneling and tapestries the size of mobile homes.

The room, like everything else around here is huge...about the size of my old high school's gymnasium.

The long, wooden table looks to be at least 30 feet long with countless ornate chairs around it, set with all sorts of silver candelabras and finery, with three massive medieval chandeliers overhead, and an enormous fireplace along the wall that looks big enough to swallow the table whole.

My palms begin to sweat nervously, hoping I can survive such a formal setting.

He guides me over near the head of the table and pulls out a seat for me.

I sit and he gently pushes my chair in and then unbuttons his suit jacket before taking his seat beside me at the head of the table.

I watch as he drapes the fine linen napkin across his lap, so I do the same.

An older blonde haired lady who looks to be in her mid 40's enters the room, carrying a tray with two teapots and other things on it, dressed like a maid...from a hundred years ago.

"Tea, miss?" she asks.

"Uh...no thank you," I reply nervously. I've never had a maid wait on me before.

"Coffee?" she asks again, and my expression must answer her. "Juice then?"

"Yes please," I smile and she nods as she places everything from her tray onto the table nicely.

"And you, Milord?" she moves to Nikolai.

Milord?

"This is fine, Ursula," he replies, waving her away.

She gives a slight bow and then walks back in the direction she came from.

"I hope you like meat, as we are having a traditional Moldavian breakfast," he smiles.

"I'm not picky," I tell him with a slight grin, thinking about the countless Styrofoam cups of Dollar Store ramen noodles that I've consumed the past few months.

He frowns again. "Please tell me, if you do not like it. I can have anything made that you like."

"I will, but I'm sure I'll like it," I smile kindly, trying to put him at ease.

Ursula and another lady dressed like her arrive at the table with two trays full of food and my juice. 

A large casserole dish with meat and cheese and eggs on top is set before us, and then a serving of it is put on each of our plates.

It looks interesting, but smells wonderful, and I'm hoping that my stomach doesn't growl loudly and embarrass me.

It seems like forever since I had a home cooked meal like this.

After everything is set, they excuse themselves.

"This is called Bulz, or urs de mămăligă, which is polenta stuffed with feta cheese, sausage, ham, and bacon, and then baked on the fire with poached eggs on top. It is often eaten with smântână, which is sour cream," he explains and then offers to place some of the cream on for me.

Afterwards, he stares at me like a small, eager child would, waiting for me to take a bite which is a bit weird and embarrassing.

I gather a bit onto my fork and then slowly place it into my mouth.

"Mmm..." I moan uncontrollably as the delicious flavors hit my taste buds. "It's good," I mumble ill-mannerly while chewing, but only because he hasn't began eating yet and I want to take the focus off of me.

A large, pleased smile spreads on his face as he finally picks up his fork.

"I am so happy to have you here, and break the fast with you," he says so sincerely that it catches me off guard.

I swallow my food before talking again.

"Do you always eat alone...in here?" I ask in a concerned tone as I look around the massive room. I couldn't imagine being in here alone.

"Yes, mostly, unless my mother is here," he answers as if it's no big deal, but my heart breaks for him.

"So there's no one you can eat with? No other family, friends, or uh...girlfriend...or...fiancée?" I ask shyly before shoving a forkful of food into my mouth. I can't believe I just asked him that! Maybe if I just keep shoveling food into my trap, I won't be able to ask any more embarrassing, personal questions.

He demurely sets his fork down with those long fingers of his and gazes into my eyes.

"I so rarely get the opportunity to entertain guests," he begins. "But when I do, I find it all...lacking somehow and terribly boring...unlike the pleasure of your fine company," he smiles sweetly as I take a drink of my orange juice, which must've been freshly squeezed as it's full of pulp.

I pause for a moment, thinking of exactly what I want to say and how I want to say it.

A moment ago, what I thought was sweet and endearing has turned a bit creepy for me. I mean, what is this guy playing at? He just seems a bit too nice and too eager, and my mom always warned me about guys who ply you with sweet words and flattery.

Is he really that lonely, or is there something so wrong with him that no one wants to be around him? I can't imagine what it could be. 

You'd think a guy like him would be surrounded by chicks and friends, not just for his looks, but because he has money, and obviously lots of it.

Not only that, but why have a huge place like this, if he never shares it with anyone? 

"But we've barely talked yet," I eye him suspiciously.

"Yes, but what conversation we have had, thus far, has been absolutely delightful. At least I think so," he answers nicely, but there's hurt in his eyes as he looks away.

He pours a bit of milk into his tea, stirs it, and then gingerly picks the teacup up between his two fingers, holding his pinky out as he takes a sip, again, so prim and proper...while trying to seem unaffected.

It is then that I get a good look at his signet ring – large diamonds surrounding the letter N with a crown above it. It looks like something that royalty would wear. 

But those fingers and black nails...

I shake my head, trying to gather my composure.

"That's not...I mean..." I fumble and then blow a frustrated breath out. "I never meant to hurt or insult you in any way, so please don't think that," I rush out apologetically. "It's just that...well...can I be honest with you?"

"Of course," he nods. "Honesty is always the preferred medium," he grins cutely.

"I just can't imagine you...a guy like you, being in a big, old, creepy place like this alone," I gesture towards him and then around the room with my hands. "With no girlfriend, fiancée, wife, or kids. I guess it's just a bit mind boggling to me, and has me wondering..." I trail off as I feel my face heat up.

He takes the napkin from his lap and dabs the corners of his mouth before laying it across his plate, obviously done, but I continue to hold my napkin tightly under the table...wringing it nervously. 

He turns towards me in his large, throne-like chair, crosses his long legs elegantly, and then links his hands atop his knee.

"Firstly, I must know what 'a guy like me' entails," he smirks while arching his brow debonairly as my cheeks grow even hotter.

"N-nothing...just that...you seem like the type that would be...the popular guy, ya know?" I mutter out some bullshit. So much for, 'can I be honest with you?' 

"Popular?" he asks amused. "I don't think that word has ever been used to describe me," he chuckles, causing me to giggle a bit at his adorable, self-deprecating self.

"I have always been rather introverted and keep to myself. I don't know if you can consider that a character flaw or not?" he asks.          

"I don't," I smile. I'm pretty much the same way.

"Good," he smiles and then it fades. "However...I must admit that your impression of my home took me by surprise. I always want you to feel welcome here, not find it creepy, as you called it," he tells me concernedly.

As if I don't already feel like enough of an ass...

This place suits him perfectly. It's as large, dark, mysterious, and beautiful as he is.

"I just meant that...it would be creepy, if I were to be here alone like you," I answer honestly. "If you saw the house I grew up in, you'd understand," I chuckle. "My whole house could fit in your dining room here room with plenty of room to spare."

His eyes widen as his brows shoot up in disbelief, as if he's having a hard time fathoming that people actually live in such small places.

"The gatehouse, which seems tiny compared to this place, is still much larger than my old house, which will take some getting used to since I'm a big ol' chicken," I joke. "So hopefully now you understand how this place could be a bit overwhelming to me."

He nods with a smile. "You have nothing to fear here, I assure you."

Except for kissing spiders in the middle of the night...

"But it is truly stunning...what I've seen of it so far, anyway," I compliment, meaning every word. 

"Thank you," he replies. "It was built in 1174 by my ancestors as a fortress and added on to through the centuries to become what it is today. It's a bit dark and drafty, I know, but I couldn't imagine living anywhere else," he smiles charmingly as I just gape in shock at how old this place is. He's so lucky to have a piece of his family's history like this.

"Now...to address your other concern," he smirks. "The reason I am without a significant other and childless is because...I just hadn't met the right one yet," he says with the most intense expression on his face as he leans slightly forward.

I don't know which is more overwhelming – him or his castle...

Definitely him.   

Wait...did he say hadn't, as in past tense?

No...I must be hearing things...hallucinating...          

Or...since English isn't his native language, he probably just said it incorrectly.

I stand up quickly, bracing myself on the table, feeling uncomfortable, and he follows suit.

"Are you alright?" he asks concernedly before placing his hand over mine, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

"I need to use the restroom," I blurt out like a moron.

"Of course," he says, looking a bit confused at my behavior. "I will have to guide you though – I wouldn't want you getting lost in this big, creepy place," he chuckles a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

I nod and then bend down to pick up the napkin that fell off my lap when I stood so abruptly, placing it on the table.

He puts his large hand on the small of my back as he guides me out of the room, making me tingle all over.

"Ursula will be disappointed that we didn't try her blinis with caviar," he comments as we continue on down a long, dark hallway.

"Caviar? That's fish eggs, isn't it?" I ask with a grimace. Fish eggs for breakfast? No thank you!

"Yes, or what is called roe," he answers.

"Yeah, well...I'm gonna row, row, row my boat to the bathroom instead," I joke, unfortunately realizing too late what an idiot I must sound like once again, to this cultured, elegant man.

But to my surprise, he laughs. "That is a good one. I will have to remember it."

A/N : Well...they survived breakfast! Lol How do you think it went? In the next chapter, we'll have the rest of their day/evening. How do you think that will go? What do you think of Castle Rykov, so far? Let me know! 😁

🕷PLEASE BE SURE TO VOTE & COMMENT!!!🕷

FYI : The "N" signet ring above actually belonged to Napoleon.