In my twisted emotions, I’d forgotten one thing.
How to be grateful.
He deserved my thanks, and I hadn’t given it to him. I’d been rude and distrustful and ruined his property. Yet, he hadn’t raised a hand to me.
Trust would be very hard to earn from me, but short-term thanks wouldn’t be. My mother had raised me better than that. I had manners…somewhere. I just had to remember how to use them.
Pulling my hand from his, I paused, then, ever so hesitantly, I placed my fingertips on his damp chest, right where the snout of his dragon protected his heart.
I let thanks fill my gaze. I tightened my fingers a little, sinking my fingernails into his skin. Not to draw blood but to show the depth of what I wanted to say.
Thank you…Elder.
He shuddered beneath my touch, his black eyes an eclipse.
He didn’t remove my touch, barrelling his way through our locked gaze as if he heard every syllable I didn’t utter.
Finally, his lips smiled in the darkness. His voice wrapped around me, promising a better tomorrow now we’d drawn battle lines.
“You’re welcome, Pimlico.”
* * * * *
Lying in bed that night, I couldn’t stop Elder from starring in my thoughts.
After we’d lingered under the moonlight and he’d accepted my gratitude, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my touch away. Without a word, he strolled down the deck and disappeared downstairs.
I followed a few minutes afterward, still lost and afraid but not quite as rageful as I’d been.
Unable to fall asleep, even after an emotionally draining few days, I pulled the notepad and pen toward me and poured my heart to the one friend who I trusted impeccably.
Dear No One,
My life has changed.
How many times did I wish for that?
But what happens if the change wasn’t what I expected? What if I didn’t get to go home to my family? What if I now face yet another trial, another man, another ownership?
Was it stupid of me to admit that if Elder stole me to protect me from Alrik, I would be content to be his? Is it wrong of me to back out of such an admission so soon?
I have so many questions, No One, and nobody to ask.
Who am I anymore? Who do I want to be? What will become of me when my tongue heals and nothing but my stubbornness keeps me silent?
The moment I scrawled the last question mark, my eyes drooped as if my mind had only kept me awake to spew out the disease-like questions.
I didn’t even place the notepad and pen on the bedside table. I did the only thing I could.
I sprawled out on the pillows and fell into a deep, delicious sleep where Elder waited…promising not to hurt me.
A TRUCE HAD formed.
Too fucking bad I had to leave before making it solid.
After leaving Pimlico on the deck last night, I’d checked my emails before retiring and found an urgent one from my warehouses in Monaco. I was needed for an issue the manager did not wish to discuss via electronic correspondence.
So as any good CEO and leader would do, I replied saying I would be there first thing in the morning and made the arrangements with the pilot on staff to ready the helicopter.
Anger curdled my stomach wondering if this was the moment my past caught up with me. I’d been hunted before. Had I been found again?
By nine a.m. we were airborne over the Mediterranean, flying to my ship builder empire and the port I’d wanted to stop in but didn’t have time between our commitments.
At least, I had wings this time. Wings were faster than sails, and it meant I could do both with no ill effects.
Knowing Pim was on an armoured yacht far away from whatever mess I was about to walk into, I disembarked the helicopter and stepped onto firm ground.
A mixture of repulsion and relief flooded me.
I liked it here. In fact, Monaco was the only place on land where I genuinely felt at peace. However, I was never fully free without the undulating power of water beneath my toes—especially if my sins had finally caught up with me.
What if you don’t return?
I shut that thought off immediately.
It didn’t matter that I’d left without a word. It didn’t matter if I never went back for her. Pim wasn’t my equal. She didn’t need to know my whereabouts or me to ask fucking permission.
But the truce…
The truce would stand.
In fact, the time away would only work to my advantage because her tongue would have another few hours of healing before we met again.
Nodding at my manager, Charlton Tommas, I strode from the helipad and into the huge warehouse where floating dreams were made.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Charlton gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting away in panic. All thoughts of Pimlico vanished as he whispered, “There’s been a murder.”