Chapter 4
CORDELIA
Iawoke ridiculously early to sunlight spilling through the curtains in soft honeycomb-yellow rays as I stretched and yawned, blinking at the clock.
I’d slept for a good twenty hours, and I was ravenous. Kicking off the duvet, I stood, the wooden floor cold under my feet as I strolled to the window. Pressing my head against the cool glass, I blew out a long breath, then opened the doors and stepped out onto the spacious balcony.
The light of dawn seeped through the gauzy clouds—the sun a pearly glow in the sky, its muted light skimming the green-blue ocean, casting shimmering paths across the surface.
The rear of the hotel was magnificent—meticulously sculpted gardens sloped towards a sun-kissed beach, stirred by the breeze and dotted with palm shadows.
I stood there for a few minutes, soaking it in.
I rang room service for coffee and breakfast, then took a moment to explore the suite.
It was opulence wrapped in elegance. The soft grey-blue walls reminded me of a restless tide caught in a painter’s brushstroke, and the plush sea-blue and foamy white bedding made the room feel like an extension of the ocean below.
The sofa was ivory velvet, and I trailed my fingers across it as I walked past. A bookcase stood against one wall, filled with titles from all genres, and side tables, a desk, and a small dressing table, all made of smooth cream wood, were arranged with meticulous balance.
Through one door I found a large walk-in closet, perfect for stowing my luggage. Another door led to a bathroom that looked like something out of a high-end spa—huge rainfall shower, deep freestanding tub, high-end toiletries in a woven basket, and a gilded mirror that caught the light like fire.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and winced—I was a hot mess. Hair mussed, skin creased from sleep. I smoothed my hair back as I gave myself a quick once-over.
Time to scrub up. Mission prep could wait a few more hours.
Breakfast arrived, and I sat on the balcony to eat, a fantasy romance open on the table.
The sun glowed molten gold, irradiating the water—its rays dancing like a myriad of shimmering silver frazil ice over the surface.
The ocean's dreamy, rhythmic pulse helped detangle the knots in my muscles… its symphony was unmatched.
I missed the sea.
Memories came—the bright sunlight caressing my skin. Golden-white sands and deep-blue waters. Laughter. Happiness… I missed my mom.
We’d lived by the ocean when I was a small girl—she met Drakos when I was a wee, innocent little thing.
Eventually, my life changed dramatically, especially once her illness took hold, not long after Guinn was born.
When she died, Drakos uprooted us from America to England, relocating his stronghold.
I was fourteen. But honestly, my life had already taken a turn for the worse well before then.
I blew out another long breath, sinking into the weight of my sadness.
I could stomp my feet, cry, and yell about how unfair life was, but what would that achieve?
There was no point getting twisted up about things I couldn’t change.
So many things in my life had been unfair, but I needed to generate my wins, not my losses.
I needed to concentrate on my plan for the future.
Burying the memories, I drained the last of my coffee, then went to dress.
Distressed shorts, a white halter-neck crop top, and flip-flops were my vibe for the day.
All designer, of course. But I couldn’t face putting in my contacts or wearing the dark wig; sunglasses would hide my eyes just fine.
I twisted my hair up, shoved a floppy hat on top, and called it good.
Time to explore and grab me more coffee.
I wandered down to the hotel lobby. The space was bathed in hues of nature, a delightful mix of ocean blues and soft sage greens.
The foliage rose in organic swirls, while large photos of seascapes and marine wildlife decorated the walls, adding to the illusion of a coastal dream.
The place was palatial—a fancy, upscale establishment.
‘Morning, Ma’am,’ a concierge greeted with a polite smile as I passed, and I nodded courteously as I escaped through the door.
The heat blanketed me, penetrating down to bone—it was delightful.
Above, the sun hung in the sky like a wishing well of molten gold, and the warm, sweet, salty air embraced me like an old friend—I was swimming in the briny aroma.
I strolled to the beach past swaying palm trees, and flip-flops in hand, walking barefoot, my feet sinking into the soft golden powder.
As I walked, the murmuring of the waves, which gently drenched the sand, was a lullaby for the soul.
I decided today was for exploring—the target wasn’t due for another two days.
Tomorrow I’d slip back into assassin mode. But today, I needed to chill, and I needed a gift for Guinn.
I meandered along the boardwalk, lined with pretty boutiques and local art shops, checking out displays.
Jewellery sparkled in glass cases, colourful clothes billowed on racks, gifts of all types, and handmade crafts tempted from every corner.
Eventually, I spied a cutesy purple cropped sweatshirt with a dolphin motif.
Guinn adored dolphins. I paid, tucked the sweatshirt into my small designer backpack, slung it over my shoulder, and resumed the hunt—for coffee.
‘A double espresso, please,’ I said to the barista, who repaid me with a Cheshire cat grin.
‘Coming right up.’
I took my coffee to an empty bistro table outside and sat, sipping the dark roast while checking Google maps on my private phone. I only ever used that one for Guinn.
‘Mm, this coffee is divine,’ I murmured to myself.
‘Hey.’ Came an unexpected voice. I looked up to find a tall, dark, surfer-type sitting in the chair across from me like he belonged there. He placed his drink on the table and gave me a cocky smile. ‘So… Tell me about yourself.’
What a nincompoop.
I pointed to my face. ‘Does this look like the type of girl who wants company?’
His eyes rounded, and without a word, he scraped his chair back and pissed off. Good choice.
I returned to my phone and shot a quick message to Guinn.
“Hey, baby. How’re you? What you been up to? I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but I should know soon. We’ll see that movie when I get home ”
Guinn would reply when she got the chance.
‘More coffee,’ I muttered to myself, grabbing my cup and leaving my sunglasses on the table as I headed back inside.
I was half-glancing at Google Maps in one hand and clutching my fresh coffee in the other when it happened: I caught my foot on a wayward chair—the one the surfer-nincompoop had abandoned—and went flying.
My coffee launched skyward, my phone slid from my flailing hand, and my hat whipped off, releasing my hair in a chaotic tumble.
Shit.
Before I landed face-first, I collided with something solid—very solid. My face bounced off a hard chest—and I almost broke my nose. I recoiled, wild-eyed, pressing a hand to my face.
‘Yikes, what are you made of? Marble?’ I grumped, eyes darting around for my phone and hat.
I spotted the phone under a nearby bistro table and stepped towards it—only for that immovable chest to block my path again.
Seriously?
Feeling anger thrum under my skin, I peeled my eyes up the chest, landing on a face. The planes and angles of his face were attractive in a harsh sort of way, but damn if he didn’t wear that scowl like a weapon.
His expression was pure menace.
Hands opening and closing at my side, I glowered at him.
I had a fast and loose approach to danger—this part of me needed punching in the kisser—and an uncontrollable tickle of anticipation fluttered up my spine because this guy looked dangerous.
But I calmed myself; beating on a muscled guy was not in my persona.
I’m not submissive, not even close, but I was playing a part: a quiet divorcee.
Harmless and forgettable. I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath through my nose.
Taller than me by about three inches, put him around five-eleven, but his bearing and muscular frame made him seem much bigger. I went to step around him again to get to my phone. He stepped with me. Again.
‘Good gracious, what’s your problem?’ I asked in an amused voice. ‘Are you hangry? Aww, you’re totally hangry, aren’t you?’
His lips flattened, and he gave me an even harder stare.
‘No one ever told you intense staring is rude and borderline psychotic, huh?’ I arched a brow and tilted my head as his dark stare carried on searing into me.
‘Have you always been creepy… or is this a recent development?’ I shook my head and looked to the sky.
‘Creepy isn’t cool, dude.’ I added with a sigh. ‘Just a heads up.’
‘You’re ridiculous.’ His voice was rough, like stones being ground underfoot.
‘Nope. I’m unique. Big difference.’ I placed my hands on my hips.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘People like you are the reason I prefer animals to humans,’
‘You forgot the “no offence” at the end of that. It’s good manners, you know.’
‘I meant it as an insult.’
I snorted. ‘Dude, I’m taking the piss.’ His eyes darkened further; the air between us thickened with heat and animosity.
As I tried to step around him again to reach the table, he encircled my upper arm in his meaty hand, stopping my movement. His fingers squeezed my arm to the point of pain. I shifted, edging up to the point of kicking him in the balls.
Instead, I leaned in slightly and said in a low, venom-laced voice, ‘Listen here, asshat. I suggest you move your hand before I make you.’ A muscle ticked in his jaw, and a half-smirk curled on his lips.
‘Ajax. Enough,’ a husky baritone cut through the tension like a blade dipped in honey.
I didn’t flinch. I stared Ajax dead in the eyes.
‘No wonder you’re a surly prick, with a name like that.’
His grip again tightened on my arm for a beat, then he released me.