In fact, the time away would only work to my advantage because her tongue would have another few hours of healing before we met again.
Nodding at my manager, Charlton Tommas, I strode from the helipad and into the huge warehouse where floating dreams were made.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Charlton gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting away in panic. All thoughts of Pimlico vanished as he whispered, “There’s been a murder.”
HE LEFT WITHOUT a word.
He stayed away for two nights, three days.
In that time, I had good hours and bad.
I ate what was delivered, and each meal was slighter easier than the last. Dr. Michaels visited me again to ensure my tongue was healing, and the swelling continued to abate as my body rehabilitated.
I wrote notes to No One before tossing them out to sea, as if the ocean had become my own personal wishing well for things I could never have.
No matter the peace I was given or the safety in which I hovered, I still didn’t trust those around me. Even the girl who came to clean my room and dole out fresh towels was kept at a distance. However, if she didn’t like to natter while working—nerves caused by my silence—I would never have known Elder had left and wasn’t just sulking somewhere on his giant ship.
I’d never heard the helicopter take off (I didn’t even know there was one), and once the maid left that first morning, I’d sat on the balcony, staring at the sky, looking for a speck of the returning craft.
Thoughts of pillaging Elder’s office for clues on how to end my captivity taunted me. I remembered the password he’d had me type before calling my mother on his phone. I had a way to contact the outside world…I think.
I desperately wanted to know more about him.
The second afternoon, when I’d given into the stupid urge to snoop, I’d spent hours stalking the corridors for his work space. But I hadn’t found it thanks to locked doors and no skills at lock picking.
And even if I had managed to break into his domain and read his emails or understood what he kept hidden, what would that achieve?
We were in the middle of the ocean.
Apart from knocking out countless staff and learning how to fire a flare or call the Coast Guard, I wasn’t equipped to go to battle with him.
I wasn’t lazy or fearful…I liked to think it was smart to bide my time and let Elder grant more snippets of his life. Already, he’d given me clues in the way he acted and the respectful way his staff went about their chores even though he wasn’t here to oversee.
They worked diligently because he deserved it not because he commanded it.
A tyrant wouldn’t have such loyalty. And I was willing to give him more time before I made up my mind. Everyone was worthy of that, even men who owned another’s life—especially a man who’d saved another’s life.
I was aware my thoughts were a walking contradiction.
By the third evening, when the Phantom had passed inlets and peninsulas and other yachts nowhere near as fine sailed through our wake, the faint whop-whop of flying machinery sounded.
As the sun set over the sea, a sleek helicopter appeared on the horizon, slowly growing larger the closer it came.
My heart did a weird pole vault dismount. I couldn’t decide if it was a death roll or a somersault of expectation. Either way, Elder had somehow gotten under my skin without even being here.
The helicopter hovering over the stern of the ship was deafening even with the constant hum of boat engines. Leaving my spot on the balcony, I padded naked across my bedroom to head upon deck and witness the arrival of the man who called me his.
I cracked open my door and came eye to eye with a young steward vacuuming the corridor, I looked down at my state of undress. He gaped like a mouth-breathing idiot, and, as much as it amplified my discomfort to wear clothing, I had to start accepting the habit for other’s sake.
Closing the door, I headed to the wardrobe and selected the oversized black dress I’d worn to dinner. Holding my breath, I slipped it over my head. Fighting the disgust as the soft cotton cocooned me, I pulled out my hair and let it drape down my back, hopefully hiding some of the whip marks and heavy scars left there permanently.
Now suitable, I left my suite and headed down the corridor to the lift. Once the mirrored elevator arrived, I pressed the top button for the outside deck and waited impatiently, pressing my tongue on the roof of my mouth, activating a tiny sliver of sensation.
A few levels higher, the lift spat me out on a glass-fronted walkway. I left springy carpet, and my toes kissed polished wood as I left inside for outside.
The helicopter was still winding down, its rotors barely still.
Crew dashed around, placing ropes and pulleys, strapping the machine to this mega water city. A few noticed me, one even waved, but no man with hair as black as nightmares and eyes as lethal as snipers appeared.
I waited to see if the cabin door would open, but squinting in the twilight, I saw only one person remaining: the pilot.