Being in bed with Lyriope curled up in my arms is about as foreign of a sensation as I’ve ever encountered. For one, I rarely sleep in my bed. Catching a few hours here and there in my office chair, on a plane, in the back of a limo is about as much sleep as I ever get.
Insomnia is, and will always be, a dear friend of mine.
Insomniacs aren’t a rare breed, but what makes me different than most is that I feel no need to fix the problem. I don’t take sleeping pills, I don’t do yoga, mental exercises, or whatever else people do to try to sleep better. I embrace it.
In fact, I not only embrace it, but I welcome it. Just as I welcome my OCD, my ADHD, and the fact that I am no doubt a sociopath—though undiagnosed. I am who I am and allow each—so called disorder—to enrich my life.
Champion the crazy.
Embody the madness.
It’s my version of sane.
But as I feel Lyriope drift off to sleep, her breathing deepening, her body temperature increasing, I feel sleep start to take hold of me as well. Part of me wants to fight it so I can simply lie here and enjoy the feel of this woman in my arms. Both our walls are down. Both of us, content in the moment without a need to prepare for a war or engage in a battle. Right now I have peace and though sleep is knocking, I so want to enjoy the calm before the storm.
Eventually, blackness takes over and the voices in my head go silent.
I don’t know how long I slept, but the distant sound of rapid and forceful knocking wakes me up. I try to tune it out, but when I hear it again, I rub the sleep out of my eyes.
“Nick, are you in there?” Harrison calls from the other side of my door. “I hate to bother you, but this can’t wait.”
Lyriope is still asleep in my arms, and I pull her closer to me. Flesh against flesh, and I’ve never wanted anything to last longer.
“It can wait,” I bark, protective over Lyriope and her deep slumber. I don’t want him waking her up as well.
“Look out your window, man,” Harrison says.
Biting back the curse words I want to throw his way, but also not wanting to disturb Lyriope, I gently pull my body away from hers and pad over to my bedroom window that overlooks the sea and pull back the curtains.
Fire.
It takes me a moment to truly grasp what I’m looking at.
A huge ball of fire is raging where my boat and dock once were.
I see my security trying their best to extinguish the flames, but I can already see that the structure and boat are gone.
Grabbing a blanket off the end of the bed, I wrap it around my bottom half and open my door. Walking out into the hallway, so as not to wake up Lyriope, I look at Harrison who is catching his breath from no doubt running upstairs to notify me of the arson.
“Morelli?” I ask.
“A warning,” Harrison says. His eyes dart to my bedroom, clearly knowing who’s on the other side. “Did you get your piece of ass so we can return her to daddy dearest?”
I want to punch him, but I won’t. I shouldn’t care how he speaks or in which manner toward Lyriope, but I do. He’s direct. He says what’s on his mind. And I’m not ever going to hold that against him, regardless if I want to knock his teeth out when he acts like Lyriope is just some whore I’m banging.
How would he know that she’s… more?
“We didn’t call the fire department,” Harrison informs. “Security seems to be getting a handle on it. But the damage is done.”
I shrug. “I wanted a new boat anyway.” I tighten the blanket around me.
“After the meeting with the Morelli sons, there’s no doubt in my mind that Bryant Morelli knows you have his daughter. The torching of your property is just a tiny taste of what’s to come and you know it. He’s going to have your head if you don’t hand her over.”
“Then let him come and try.”
“Nick, be smart,” Harrison says with a glare. “You’re not an idiot. You’ve never been one. The reason you are where you are in life is you know how to play the game. What you are doing right now is against the rules. You fucking know it. The Morellis are off-limits. We keep them on our good side. And now that we know the Constantines are the ones who actually ordered the kidnapping…” Harrison runs his hands through his hair, paces the hallway for a few moments. “We’ve never been ones to get in the way of that family feud. Bullets are blazing with those families, and we’ve been wise enough to steer clear.” His eyes narrow as he looks at my bedroom door. “Until her.”