“Don’t you get hot in that?” I ask.
He ignores my question, swooping down and meeting my lips for a kiss. His tongue slides into my mouth and my eyes flutter closed, losing myself in his taste.
“Mmm.” He breaks away, resting his forehead on mine, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Unfortunately, I have business that needs my attention. Will you be alright here?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I was thinking about stopping by The Vanilla Bean, anyway.”
His mouth twists.
“James, you told me I was free to go, and now you’re—”
“Darling, please.” He sighs, pressing another peck on my lips. “You are. Forgive me for wanting to keep you to myself. I’ll leave the keys to the Aston if you want to use it.”
The knot in my chest loosens. “Thank you.”
“Do me a favor? Don’t take off that necklace.”
My brows furrow. “Still?”
“Humor me.” He grins. “I like knowing jewels are decorating your skin.” His fingers brush along the diamonds. “Make it back home by dinner? I have a surprise.”
“Okay.” I smile, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
Home.
He says it effortlessly, as if this place is mine and it’s where I belong. But I’m still teetering on the edge, unsure if this is all too good to be true—if maybe he’s still using me for some master plan.
I push the thoughts aside and head inside, choosing to ignore the whispers of doubt.
40
James
I sigh, flipping the station from the news. They’ve been speaking of nothing besides the NevAirLand fires, and while it does bleed a bit of satisfaction through me each time I see the rubble and destruction, I can’t help but be frustrated that nothing has come of it.
In fact, for a man who’s as popular as Peter, he seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet. It leaves me feeling uneasy. Everything, as of late, seems to be leaving me unsettled—a foreboding feeling—a storm brewing without a radar, no idea of when it will hit or the destruction that will be left behind.
The twins sit across from me, their faces grim as they tell me of yet another shipment that never arrived, a million dollars in pixie just disappearing into thin air.
Rage curls through me as I sit behind the desk, feeling as though I’m staring at a giant puzzle and missing the center piece.
And where the fuck is Peter?
I look at the twins, blowing out a deep breath as I try to contain my growing ire. “I need you to make the rounds. Today. You will go to every single street corner and collect every single person who’s ever touched our product, and you will strip them down and search them. If you see a tattoo of a crocodile, a watch, or any variation of the two, you will bring them here, and you will chain them up in the basement. Is that understood?”
“You got it, Hook.”
“Good.” I crack my neck. “Will you please send Starkey in on your way out?”
They leave, and my stomach twists at the reminder of the tattoo, as if it were plucked directly from my nightmares and drawn into my skin with ink. But that’s impossible.
Starkey opens the door, his eyes wide and cautious. “Sir.”
My jaw clenches as I stand up, buttoning the front of my suit, and walking around the desk toward him. It’s silent for long moments until I finally speak. “Remind me again, Starkey, why it is you interfered the other night?”
“It was an accident, Hook. I didn’t mean to.” He looks down. “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you think is fit.”
The corner of my mouth curls up, although inside, my stomach is rolling. “And what if I see fit to end your life? After all, the punishment should match the crime, don’t you agree?”
He swallows, his fingers twitching at his side. My eyes track the movement. “It was an accident,” he repeats.
I nod, stepping toward him. “I don’t pay you to have accidents.”
My nostrils flare, fingers twitching to grip my blade and sink it into his skin. But it wouldn’t look good for morale if I killed him now. Up until this point, Starkey has never been a bother, and between Ru’s death and the whispers on the streets, the last thing I need is for my inner circle to feel as if they aren’t safe in my presence.
“You’ve always been extremely loyal, Starkey. One of the best. One that up until the other day, I would have trusted with my life.”
His jaw clenches, and I take out my knife, flipping the blade and using the tip to tilt up his chin. “Do not do something so foolish again, or next time I won’t be as lenient.”
He bobs his head, his eyes glancing down at where my fingers press metal to skin. “Thank you,” he says. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
I hold up my hand, stepping back. “I want you to find Peter Michaels’s assistant, Tina Belle. And I want you to bring her to me. Do you understand?”
He swallows and nods.
“Go.”
With every minute that ticks by after Starkey leaves, my body winds itself tighter, my brain feeling as though I’m watching a TV with static. I have to be missing something. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.
When I finally make it back to the marina, having had a pit stop on the way home, grabbing a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of roses, I’m exhausted. I want nothing more than to lose myself in Wendy’s presence.
Walking into the kitchen, I set the champagne on ice, the silence in the air making my heart stutter, wondering if maybe she changed her mind and decided to leave me after all. I rub my palm against my chest, not liking the way my pulse is suddenly out of my control.
“Romantic.”
I spin at the voice, Smee waltzing into the room.
“Yes, well, I guess you could say I’m turning over a new leaf.” I give him a tight smile.
His eyes spark as he steps toward me, his head tilting as he takes me in. “You really care for her, don’t you?”
My chest twinges, but I nod. I’m not one to speak of emotions plainly, but I imagine it’s rather obvious the way I feel, especially when we’re here, in my home. There’s no sense in trying to deny it. “She has come to be paramount to my happiness.”
“Hmm.” Smee stops in front of the bouquet, leaning in to smell the roses. “Well,” he sighs, straightening. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to bring someone here.”
My brows lift. “Oh?”
He grins. “To see you happy, I mean.”
Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I slip it off, setting it on the back of one of the kitchen barstools. “To be honest, I don’t quite know what to do with myself.” I run a hand through my hair. “We didn’t necessarily get off on the best foot.”
Smee chuckles. “Sometimes, boss man, you just have to be patient and let everything play out.”
I rub the scruff of my jaw, nodding at his words.
“Is she here?” I ask.
He angles his head toward the bedroom. “I don’t think she’s left all day.”
The urge to see her is too strong to resist, so I rise, pausing before I hit the hallway. “Smee,” I say.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re a good man. And I appreciate everything you do. I’m sure I don’t tell you enough.”
He inclines his head, and I make my way to the woman who’s become the center of my universe.
41
Wendy
I chickened out and didn’t go The Vanilla Bean, not wanting to come face-to-face with an angry, outspoken Angie. If her text messages are any indication, she’s not exactly happy with me, assuming that I no-showed and dipped, deciding I didn’t need the money. So, I took the coward’s way out and sent her a text instead. She hasn’t replied.
Not that I blame her, from her perspective, it seems like I’m a flake, a temporary fixture, leaving them all high and dry. And maybe it’s for the best that I allow them to remember me that way. I’m not sure I can come up with an excuse as to why I disappeared, other than the truth. Somehow, I don’t think showing up and telling them that I was held hostage, but it’s okay because I think I’m in love with the kidnapper would go over well.
I scoff, rolling my eyes and leaning back on James’s bed, laughing as I remember one of the first conversations we had here. Joking about Stockholm syndrome, of all things. Talk about the irony.
A giggle bursts out of me just as the door opens and James walks in, his eyes hollow and haunted.
“What’s so funny, pretty girl?” he asks, coming to sit next to me on the bed. His hand reaches out, brushing underneath my eyes, and my insides melt like butter from his words and his touch.
I grin. “I’m just thinking about the first time I woke up in here, do you remember?”
He leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “I remember every single moment between us, darling.”
“Well… isn’t it kind of funny that we talked about nice kidnappers, and then you went all Hook on me and did it?”
His brow lifts.
I laugh again. “I’m just saying.” My hand flies up. “It’s funny when you think about it.”