They file out quickly, leaving the door wide open behind them.
“We have a yacht!” She yells again excitedly, “I didn’t hear him say it, but we’ve had it since I was little.”
“And you’re letting me know in the same sentence you’re guilty of eavesdropping, is that correct?” I grunt at her, my patience as thin as a thread.
She gulps and backs up a step, hesitant to speak again, suddenly remembering her instructions from this morning.
“Well, this is my home too,” she says tartly, folding her hands in front of her long slip dress and matching silk robe that trails along the floor. The emeralds at her neck catch the light as she lifts her chin, daring me to push back—revealing the little demon I’ve always known her to be.
“That it is, darling,” I say softly as I walk to her and pull her to my chest. Taking is just as precious as giving, and she’s a good girl for helping, even if her methods are against expectations.
“There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s going to hurt,” I murmur into her hair, pulling her soft frame close to mine. I have to bend to breathe her in—apple and honey, warm and familiar. Her head barely reaches my chest.
“Will I like the pain?” she asks quietly, her voice muffled against me as I begin to stroke her hair. It's delicate, fine as silk, slipping through my fingers like something too precious to hold.
“You won’t, but I’ll hold you through it.”
“Okay…”
“Your brother Ford is alive, and I’m going to bring him back to you.”
“Forgive me, but it’s a bit obvious,” she says with a light giggle, the thought of seeing him again lighting her up from the inside.
Obviously, she understands that he’s alive. However, when she understands what was at stake all along, it could have a profound impact.
I watch her for a beat, then shake my head gently.
“See, darling…that isn’t what I have to tell you.”
I reach for her hand, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin. “And while it’s my job to protect you, I’ve decided the best way I can…”
I pause, the words catching in my throat. I want one last second of silence. One last breath of certainty before everything shifts.
“Is by waiting for Ford to tell you himself.”
She looks up at me, slightly annoyed with tears in her eyes, like she doesn’t know if she should be upset with me or thank me.
She opens her mouth to speak, and within seconds, I’m gripping her tighter to me, suddenly certain in my subsequent acts of retribution. Of control. Of revenge.
“It’s time for your silence, Darling, no speaking unless you’re spoken to.” I kiss her soft lips as she gulps down her tears.
“But Dale—”
“You can take a bath and help Dale clean herself up, but after that, you're to go straight to our room and get into bed.”
It’s the middle of the day, but I don’t care. I need to know that while I’m gone, she’s safe. That she’s home, in our bed, waiting for me.
“I have just one more question,” she asks, breaking her silence and making me growl.
“I’m sorry, but I need to know,” she insists, clutching at my dress shirt to pull me closer to her.
I catch sight of Archie slipping back in through the mahogany double doors, here to collect me for the final decisions on our next move.
This is what she does to me. She consumes everything. In her presence, even the most urgent tasks lose their weight. She’s a distraction—dangerous, intoxicating, wrapped in perfection.
Archie lingers by the door as I run my hand along her cheek, then grip her chin between my fingers.
“You may ask,” I mutter, the words rough and frayed as the vodka blurs the edges of my restraint.
