He was not like other men, and not in that cliché romance book sort of way that Kat was always harping on about. Or notjustin that way, anyway—a billionaire surprising his fake wife with an expensive ring sounded very much straight off the pages of the stuff she read. But Henry was …
I sighed. He was better than other men. And a beautiful ring in my favourite colour, what a contrast to that other token—the one I kept buried in a box in my wardrobe.
My phone buzzed on the counter. And then again. I picked it up. There was a notification from Uber that my bread had been delivered—with a photo of an unfamiliar older man with messy salt and pepper hair and a round belly holding the bag. Something about his dead eyes as he smiled at the camera sent chills tingling through me.
Whoever the driver had left the bread with, it wasn’t Henry, and after last night, and the knowledge that there were journalists taking photos of us, this was not the sort of news we really needed right now.
The other notification was no better.
Stefan: I think the letter from the university has Dad off your back for a bit … but HE is still asking lots of questions. I don’t think he bought it
I reached for my coffee, needing to lubricate my suddenly dry throat. My hand shook, and a little spilt out on the counter as another message came through.
Stefan: Be straight with me—this need to stay longer IS real, isn’t it? You know I’d lie for you if it came down to it, but I need to know what I’m getting myself into. You owe me that much for helping you get your four years of freedom
My stomach rebelled against the coffee. Nauseous, I set it back on the counter with a clatter. I didn’t want to drag Stefan into the lies as well, it already felt like I was making too many people lie for me. I just needed everyone back home to give me a few months grace, to get my partner visa sorted, and then I’d be safe from them when they found out the truth.
Hopefully.
Irina: Absolutely real. I partied a little too hard last semester, and I need to make up the credits. I don’t want to bring shame on the family by returning home without a degree after everything that’s been done to let me study over here
Bile rose in my throat at the lies stacked upon lies just in that one text message. No answer came from Stefan, which I decided was a good thing—that he’d accepted my ongoing excuses and had nothing more to say. Guilt washed over me that I was deceiving my cousin, theone person who had always stuck by me from the very first time we met. But no. I wasn’t deceiving him. I was protecting him.
Just like I would also find a way to protect Kat, to keep her from having to lie for me too. Even if it meant leading a double life for a few months.
A commotion of footsteps on the stairs from the main deck had me straightening, smoothing my hair out of my face and pasting what I hoped was a pleasant smile on my face. Henry was doing enough for me already; he didn’t need to be worrying about the Romanian Family on top of it all.
That little secret was my cross to bear.
“She doesn’t leave the yacht without you, me, or one of your security detail.” Henry’s voice was somehow tight and wobbly all at the same time. “At the very least until we know the partner visa is secured.”
“Do you think that’s?—”
“I do, Lucian! I don’t say things if I don’t think they’re necessary. We need to mitigate the risks until she’s safe from deportation.”
Cold slithered into my abdomen. What had happened while he went to get the bread? I hitched my smile up even higher, holding my breath as they rounded the stairs and came into view of the kitchen.
“Morning, Lucian!” I squeaked, cursed myself, then continued in a lower tone. “Do you drink coffee? Or is sunning yourself on a rock more your speed of a morning?”
Lucian’s glare was icy, but his gaze darted to Henry, who looked manic, his fists flexing and clenching. This wasn’t the sexy finger flex of Kat’s Mr Darcy, either. This was a man on the very edge of losing it.
“Everything okay?” I asked, voice thin with worry. What the fuck had gone down out there? “Pass me the bread, and I’ll do my best to make these?—”
“Shit! The bread!” Henry slid his fingers under his glasses, pressing them into his eyes.
I looked between him and Lucian, confused. Lucian gave a tiny shake of his head. “Bax, it’s not the?—”
“It is! I had one simple job—get the bread!” Chest heaving, he started tugging at his hair, eyes falling on the bottle of sprinkles on the bench. Before I had a chance to blink, it was in his hand. With anincoherent yell, he hurled it at the wall. Glass smashed and sprinkles exploded out across the floor.
“Don’t move, Bax,” Lucian said, his voice calm and neutral. “There’s glass and your feet are bare. Let me get the broom.”
With a pointed look in my direction, Lucian mouthed, “Stay where you are,” and left the room. Henry, back to me on the other side of the island, clutched his head and sucked in heavy, rasping breaths that would be doing nothing to help regulate him.
I ignored Lucian’s directive. Climbing onto the bench, I sat on the edge closest to Henry. “Would you like me to hold you?” I asked softly.
Henry’s head snapped up at my words. “No … not gently …” he managed, his words choppy and stilted. “I h-hate gentle touch, when I’m … when it’s like this.”
“I understand. Can I squeeze your shoulders, the way you squeeze your knees when things get overwhelming?”
