When his lips curled with dismissal, I rushed, “Besides, a sling will only add evidence to the break. It doesn’t have to be much. Just something to give me some relief.”
Cut scowled, his throat working as he swallowed. “Fine.” Storming toward a bookshop, he quickly bought me a canvas tote bag and asked the sales clerk to cut it straight down the centre.
Guiding me from the store, he quickly cradled my arm with the sliced tote and knotted the handles around my side and shoulder, creating an imperfect but practical sling. The ease and quickness in which he’d done such a tender thing made me freeze.
If I was honest, I hadn’t expected him to listen, let alonehelpme.
“You—you—” I looked away, hating him but grateful. “Thank you.”
Cut stiffened, his golden eyes meeting mine. “I wouldn’t thank me, Ms. Weaver. You know I didn't do it out of concern for your well-being.”
Now that my other hand was free, I pushed hair out of my eyes and relaxed a little. “No, but you can’t hide there’s more to you than just a crazy man hell-bent on ruling everyone.”
He smirked, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You might have figured out Daniel, but you’ll never figure me out, so don’t bother.” Stepping closer, we formed a little island as flowing passengers darted around us. The fear for Jethro and the nervousness in my gut layered my aching muscles, but I didn’t move back. I didn’t show a weakness that Cut’s proximity irked and irritated.
His gaze fell to my lips. “You’re strong, Nila. I’ll give you that. You remind me so much of Emma that it’s sometimes hard to remember you aren’tmine. That you aren’ther. You might think it would be a good thing for me to think of you kindly, but it wouldn’t, believe me.” He lowered his voice. “Your mother ripped out my heart before I cut off her head. And nothing will give me more pleasure than doing the same to Jethro and you.”
My lungs stuck together, unable to gather oxygen.
Cut cocked his head, smiling at my dumbfoundedness. “Why does that continue to shock you? Why do you, even now, still look for the good in others?” Patting my hand, he looped his fingers through mine and pulled me back into motion. “You should know by now no one is what they say they are, and everyone deserves to pay for something. People have been covering up or blaming their mistakes on others for centuries. I take control of mine. I do the best I can to better myself and I refuse to let you or anyone else stand in my way.”
I didn’t speak—what could I say to that?
We moved through the large departure gate, heading toward the plane.
Cut smiled as he pulled out our documentation for the gate staff. His gaze met mine. “This is the easy part.” Handing over the boarding passes, Cut guided me down the air bridge, keeping me close to him, controlling me at all times. “It’s the stress of landing that’s the hard part.”
Landing.
English security.
Maximum penalties for lies and incorrect declarations.
Marching onto the plane, we moved down the aisle, through first class, through business, right into the dregs of economy.
Cut pushed me into a row with a window and aisle seat. “Sit.”
I sat.
Stretching, he placed his briefcase in the overhead lockers before sitting smoothly and unhurriedly beside me.
The moment he settled, I asked, “Why a commercial airline? Why not the private jet we flew in on?”
“Why do you think? Because the private plane would be far too easy. This way is much harder.”
My eyes widened. “Harder?”
“Harder on you.” His voice lowered into a threat. “This way you have to sit with hundreds of strangers, wondering if they suspect you. You’ll have to hide your fear when we land and lie through your teeth when they question you. The stress of being watched, of being surrounded by countless people, of having to lie—it’s to show you how hard it is to transport a secret. You’ll value the cost so much more.”
Reclining, his long legs spread out in front of him. “You’ll learn what it’s like to protect something so precious by any means necessary.”
I swallowed. “You forget I don’t care about your diamonds. I don’t care if they find them.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not the diamonds I’m talking about, Nila. It’s my firstborn rotting inAlmasi Kipangawatched over by Marquise. You fail, and he dies in the most horrifying ways. You win, he lives even when you die. It’s a fair trade—don’t you think?”
I bit my lip against the torrent of hate and helplessness.
I couldn’t reply. It would be an explosion of retorts and profanity.
