Page 6 of Daring to Love

I loathe the loss of power, and that’s probably part of Erik’s plan: showing me that I am, in fact, powerless. He claims my arrogance is what got me into this mess, though I can’t for the life of me agree with him. There’s a difference between arrogance and confidence, and I’ve always thought my charm and wit could get me out of trouble.

Not this time.

No, this time, I’ll have to do as I’m told.

I crack my neck from side to side, my steps quickening with renewed purpose. If I look at this job as another challenge waiting for me to overcome, just like I’ve always done when I’ve run in to an obstacle preventing me from reaching my goal, I’ll survive.

Erik wants me to show the world who this girl is? Fine. He’ll get the best bloody story I’ve ever written.

But first, I need to find her.

The mass of people blocking my way makes me itch, and I sit down on a bench. I pull out my phone again and do a search for her online. I scratch my chin as I flip through page after page, getting more annoyed by the second when no photos of her pop up. I’m about to give up when my eyes catch sight of an old photo with her name tagged underneath it, and I click on the link. An article from what appears to be a French newspaper dated almost a decade ago makes me frown, and I can feel the hairs on my neck prickling as I try to translate it. I become more and more invested to get this story right despite my initial reluctance. My French is almost non-existent, but I do remember a few words and phrases, and while it’s a slow process, I’m successful in translating a few lines.

“The fourteen-year-old girl, Amelie Winters, passed out when…something, something,” I mutter, pulling at my lips. “No sign of physical ailments?” Squinting, I look up at the sun, wishing it didn’t take me so long. But patience was never my strong suit. It won’t stop me from trying to work it out, though. My curiosity piqued, I can’t for the life of me work out why there are no recent articles of her…and, so, that presents the next mystery.

How the hell does Erik know this girl if she’s almost incognito? Heck, she doesn’t even have a Facebook profile.

Sighing, I look down and try reading a few more lines of the article. “Her parents, Válerie and Graham Norton, the high society couple with strong ties to the British royal family, want to keep their daughter’s life as private as possible…bloody hell.”

I’m gobsmacked. The shy dancer who ran away from me knows the royals?

“Why’s a young man like you staring off in space like that, eh?”

Blinking rapidly, I peer up at the person standing in front of me. A friendly face full of wrinkles juts her – or his? – chin at me, owlish eyes alert and curious. I take a wild guess and determine by the high-pitched, yet crackly voice, that the person in front of me is a woman, though you wouldn’t be able to tell based on her clothes. Whoever this person it, she’s covered in a long, black coat from her neck all the way down to her shoes, a plastic bag hanging from the tips of her fingers.

She must be sweltering.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The woman chuckles as she steps closer to sit down next to me. “You heard me, lad, but if that handsome face of yours is deceiving me, I’d say you look a little lost, and perhaps you didn’t hear me? I’d be happy to repeat myself.”

I shake my head as I lock my phone, placing it back in my pocket.

“I beg your pardon,” she says, nodding, a telling smile firmly on her mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“Young people like you don’t know the proper way to talk anymore.”

My lips twitch in amusement. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I beg your pardon.” I shrug. “And to answer your question, I was talking to myself, I suppose.”

She rummages through the bag and flips a red apple to me. I take it from her outstretched hand.

“Ta.”

“Talking with yourself, were you? Any chance it was about a woman?” She winks at me.

I chuckle before I take a big bite, the crispy flavour hitting my taste buds at once.

“Might be.” Out of habit, I deliberately keep my tone light. “Though not in the way you probably think.”

“I thought as much. What’s your star sign, lad?”

Befuddled, I raise my eyebrows, peering down at her. “What does that have to do with it?”