I knew I shouldn’t like him smoking. That smoking was terrible, and drugs were wrong. But my God, it made my heart hammer with interest. Why did he use? Was he in pain and it was medicinal? Was he a dealer and that was where his money came from? He wanted to know who I was, but in return, I wanted to know him.
I shifted in my chair as he inhaled again, his fingers slim and strong on either side of the weed cigarette.
After a few tokes, he glanced at me. Outwardly, he didn’t look any different. His eyes were still calculating and shrewd. His body still tense and ready to fight. But there was something less edgy about him—his mind perhaps? Something I couldn’t see, but I could feel. It had calmed down, muted the fizzing awareness between us, taming the drives that rode him.
I chewed my question before murmuring, “Why do you smoke?”
He smirked, holding the joint away from his mouth. “Ah, you’re too late for that question, Pim.”
I scowled. I knew what he meant. That night at the very beginning of whatever dance we rehearsed. He’d promised all his secrets if I just asked him that one question. At the time, I wasn’t ready mentally, physically, or in any way, but now, I wished I could go back and surprise him by opening my mouth to ask.
I dipped another strawberry into the vanilla cream. Even though he hadn’t answered me, I gave up a piece of myself in hopes he’d do the same. “A few years before I was taken, I tried it once. I didn’t like it. Made me paranoid.”
He inhaled deeply, holding his breath again until smoke curled from his nose, slowly siphoning like silver threads to form a halo around his head. “I’ve heard it can do that.”
“It doesn’t do that to you?”
“Never. If anything, it’s the opposite.”
“The opposite?”
He cocked his head, deliberating. “I’ll answer that question because one of us has to show some element of trust.” He took another drag then leaned forward and stubbed it out on a crystal ashtray in the middle of the table. “It allows me to relax—just like it does for a lot of people. But it plays multiple roles in my life.”
I kept my lips glued together so as not to ask. My curiosity nibbled at me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He chuckled quietly, seeing my internal battle. Standing, he ran a hand through his hair. “Marijuana doesn’t make me paranoid, Pim. It makes me open. The suspicion and doubt I have toward others when I’m sober are muted while I’m under the influence. It makes me a nicer person. It keeps other issues at bay. I can…relax.”
Before I could test out his theory—to see if he truly was softer and kinder and easier to talk to…he gave me a smile and left.
*
The next day, the sun hid its golden warmth behind wispy clouds, occasionally peeking out but most of the time sulking behind grey mist. The ocean was sullen and uninviting, making the Phantom seem like a comforting warm cocoon in the midst of hostile water.
I didn’t see Elder and settled for relaxing in my room, trying to recreate the origami rose he’d given me. Tearing a piece of paper from my genie notebook, I concentrated on folding creases and doing my best to turn flat into three-dimensional.
I failed even as time crept onwards and my attempts became sloppy as my fingers grew tired. Morning had switched to evening before a knock sounded on my door.
My heart skipped, hoping it was Elder, but as I opened the door, dressed appropriately in a lemon sundress, my hopes fell as a male steward smiled. “Mr. Prest wanted me to inform you we will dock in Monte Carlo at eight a.m. tomorrow and wishes you to be ready to disembark with him.” He looked over my shoulder to the jumbled mess of paper and half-concocted roses. “There is an alarm clock in your room. However, if you need help setting it or would rather a wake-up call, please just dial one, and we’ll arrange it.”
I nodded, slipping back into silence. I smiled to show gratitude, but for some reason, the thought of speaking to strangers still overwhelmed me. I’d become proficient at conversing with Elder first.
That was enough, for now.
The steward bid me good night and I closed the door.
It wasn’t late—dinner hadn’t even arrived yet—but I made sure to set the alarm clock and prepared for an early sleep so I could be ready for whatever Elder wanted to show me.
Chapter Seven
______________________________
Elder
DAWN.
I loved this time of day. When no one else was around. The world was new. Mistakes hadn’t happened yet. And my mind was quiet.
Pulling into Monaco was almost as appealing as smoking a joint to relax. This was my domain. No one stepped on my turf without me knowing, and I had an entire factory full of workers who would stand by me if anything from my past decided to show up unannounced.
Dressing in light denim jeans and a dark grey t-shirt, I opted for loafers rather than flip-flops because I intended to walk a fair distance around the warehouse and introduce Pim to my way of life.
Once I’d finished work, I’d take her to lunch. Or maybe spoil her rotten by buying whatever ridiculously expensive garment I could from the main street.
Then again, perhaps I’d ignore her entirely so she got the message that I wouldn’t put up with her arguments. That my word was law. That the deal we’d struck meant she owed me absolutely everything that she was.
To agree to those terms and not pay up would wreak the worst kind of havoc on my already strained psyche. She had no choice now.
Stupid girl traded freedom for an unwinnable deal with me.
Thinking of her made her materialize. She moved taller with a glint in her eye that hadn’t been there before. She braced her shoulders as if prepared to argue yet again, and undo all the hard work I’d done at getting myself together.
After dinner, I’d spent most of the night drilling myself with the need to keep myself in check, not raise my voice, and above all, prevent my temper from ruining everything.
Our eyes met as Pim smiled in greeting.
I didn’t smile back as I glanced at the clock above the small coat check where wet weather gear and other outdoor equipment were stored for disembarking. “You’re two minutes late.”
She gathered her dark hair into a twist, placing it over her shoulder. She didn’t reply. My ears twitched to hear her voice, but at the same time, I didn’t expect it. To enjoy conversation with her was still a novelty.
The side of the yacht was already open; the ramp lowered, waiting patiently for us to leave. The subtle scents of sea and sunshine invited us to explore Monte Carlo.
Pim glanced past me to the turquoise bay and the bustling toy-size city on the faraway shore. Her face brightened, filling with eagerness at adventure rather than paling with fear.
I’d given her the choice to join me on land last time. Morocco had been a starting place for many things—including whatever we now felt for each other. This time, she didn’t have a choice because she’d thrown that gift in my goddamn face the moment she demanded I keep her.
I wanted to shake my head in derisive amusement all while I whispered in her ear that she’d made a terrible mistake.
You should’ve left when you had the chance, Pim.