“I dare say her mind might be her biggest enemy at this time.”
“Yes, as she wonderswhenshe’ll pay.”When, Luxxie?I clear my throat. “Burt, promise to keep quiet when he arrives. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
Burt pats my hand, too devastated to utter the worries plaguing us.
IfVictor returns.
* * *
“Be kind to the old bloke while I’m away, Little One. Burt was beside himself before my departure and spoke to a royal as ifweare one and the same.”
I stop reading Victor’s first line to stifle a cross between laughter and a sob. His cocky, British tone melds into my ears like it had when we were truly together—before Madeline condemned me to a life not my own.
My body hasn’t melted at the sound of Victor’s voice or because his lips have followed every part of me. Not since Arlington.
If I could take back my words in the garden, fall to my feet, and assist him with planting our flower, I would.
The wind softly whispers over my shoulders while I sit on the same bench. The second I walked out of the kitchen with the news, I laid off the gardener—telling Burt to give him a generous severance. Nobody touches this garden or the conservatory but me until Vic returns. Although I’ll be damned that a flower, which takes years to produce a single bloom, is the only thing I have left of Vic.
I clutch the letter tightly and imagine that we’ve ventured back a century—obviously, there’s no racism—and I’m reading a letter from my lover away at war.
“All right, Lux,” I murmur his words, “I’ve fallen into our new role where I do not command you. If I were to order you to smile, you’d probably slug me. Nevertheless, if you wouldn’t mind appealing to the Higher Power you believe in, I’m sure we can strike up an arrangement to get me back home to you. Chat tomorrow?”
I bite my lip, understanding that he’s referring to the next letter held hostage by the gatekeeper, Burt. “Damn you, Vic. We could be chatting now.”
I fold the letter just as the air whispers across my forehead, bringing with it memories ofus.The precise place where Victor kissed me for the first time, and I told him not to. That forehead kisses were for lovers.
And . . . he kissed me there again.
20
Victor
Two weeks later . . .
The plan was never to enter Saudi Arabia by plane.
I’d not flown in weeks ago, even when time was of the essence. Had I requested clearance to enter the sheikh’s country, my identity would’ve been immediately uncovered. I’m sure he knew I would come and had all the airports and private charters on high alert. And one can’t simply fly into a different country without a flight declaration.
So, I had parachuted into the neighboring territory.
I struck a deal with the Sheikh of Tavar.
Paid in cash for every necessity—including the Sheikh of Tavar’s secret passage into Saudi Arabia.
This time, however, I trust no one, not after Silas’s antics. The bloody bastard could’ve had a sniper rifle at the ready, tracking me in secret while I risked my life to save Luxury. Assisted me.
The cunt had the means to facilitate something that I desperately needed, more time.
And while it would seem that time is on my side in this instance, I know very well that it’s not. Once I murder Al Rafi or Noor, the window of opportunity to murder the other will diminish to zero. Will the two—father and daughter—ever deign to be in each other’s presence out in public? While I visited Saudi Arabia to facilitate the murder of Al Rafi’s family member all that time ago, I never once witnessed the sheikh so much as share supper with his daughter. Killing them simultaneously would make my life too easy.
I’ve toiled endlessly with the timeframe necessary to expire both marks since arriving by helicopter. I’ve now moved on to a private, chartered boat. This time, I enter by sea.
* * *
Time is dwindling by. Securing all the necessary equipment without rousing suspicion has taken longer than I planned.
Now, I’ve to choose between vengeance via a suicide mission or witnessing the look on Luxury’s face when I tell her the unthinkable.