Mario Vasko was as beautiful as he was smooth enough to charm the pants off of anybody so people were interested to see who had caught his eye as Yuliya Asar was walking down the corridor to find the suite on the upper floors of the convention arena. Yuliya could understand why people were looking at him. Mario did have an attractive look, a lithe runner's physique combined with his luscious locks that were always slowly becoming unruly over time. Yuliya had to discreetly fix his hair which was a task she couldn't say she did not like. Her man's mannerisms were always changing to make sure everyone around him was having a good time. Money was good as well as his medium sized manor and he was running in good social circles. All in all this match was excellent for a widow who wanted to make a fresh start after a nice settlement from her husband's family.
It was strange after money had been so control that now she was a well sought after heiress. But truly, what use was all this money if she didn't have someone to share it with? Her thoughts ran fuzzy as her hand was twined in his as they walked into the decadent suite. His booze addled uncle tittered in front of them as they moved to sat down. The uncle was well known socially for several years and having spent some time in Egypt the two had come to an understanding of sorts that his nephew was tolerable enough for both of them.
She did have to admit though that compared with an Arabian prince, Vasko was definitely a lot more low maintenance than a sheik. It would be calm this time. No multiple wives or strange religion to worry about or in-laws whose culture she never understood enough. There had been so many moments she had wanted to give up, but now she had control over her own direction in life. Now maybe she could study something she actually liked and thankfully as she had been on birth control for most of her marriage . . . she could safely come off of it as there would be no man to trap her into having them. She was so happy that even though her husband had wanted several from her, that it hasn't happened. She did miss Hassan now, but his hospital visits were so rare for her as his main wife had been paramount in the eyes of his family that she had been pushed aside. Her only memories of that time were being able to clutch his hands once before she was pushed away in favor of his mother.
How are you worthy to hold his hands, the woman had spat at her, while she had tried to hold back tears. Hassan had risen from his bed angrily, then the heart rate monitor had gone wild. She hadn't even heard the last thing he said before he was tackled into submission by a team of doctors who spoke the local language better than she could ever dream of trying.