42. Nina
42
NINA
A lawn mower wakes us up at six-thirty in the morning.
With a pathetic whimper, I bury my face in the pillow. “Why?”
I feel Wesley shift as an arm snakes around my waist and pulls me across the bed. “The Antonia wing doesn’t have official tenants. No courtesy rules.”
His rough morning voice releases a set of butterflies in my stomach. From what I feel against my ass, he’s as turned on as I am. As much as I want to go back to sleep, reality is creeping in and I need to leave soon. We lay tangled for another ten minutes as sleep takes its time leaving my body. I drag my finger over a scar on Wesley’s forearm in front of me.
Letting myself fall in love with him is the first selfish thing I’ve done. It puts Jack and the Higher Court and even my family in an awkward position, and I don’t care.
I sit up, blinking myself awake and untangling my hair to throw into a bun. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and survey the apartment. Our dinner plates from last night are still on the counter. I’ve never gone to bed with dishes out like that before.
Wesley stirs, his hand slipping under my shirt— his shirt—and squeezes my bare skin, a habit I’m noticing more. He always wants to touch my skin. He sits up and trails kisses from my shoulder to my neck.
“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” he mutters.
I release a slow sigh, reaching behind me to comb my fingers through his soft hair. My voice stays in a whisper, as if any louder would shatter the night. “It just doesn’t feel real.”
“What doesn’t?”
I turn to him. “This. Us. Now.”
Wesley hums before pushing me onto my back. He climbs on top of me and I revel in how comfortable it feels to have him between my legs. He lowers to my neck, pressing a gentle kiss while sliding the shirt above my breasts.
“How about now?”
I chuckle. “No.”
He grips my backside, the sudden pressure making me gasp as he kisses my collarbone. “Now?”
I bite my lip to stop from giggling. “No, but you’re getting hotter.”
His head dips lower. “Then what about…” The same moment he takes my nipple softly between his teeth, his thumb finds the perfect spot between my thighs. “This?” he whispers as he rubs in slow circles. “Does it feel real yet?”
My eyes flutter shut and I arch into him, pleasure rippling up my stomach and down my legs. “Keep doing that and it will.”
I feel him laugh. A sharp knock suddenly raps at the door, and our heads snap up.
“Wait here,” Wesley says, sliding off the bed and stepping into sweatpants as I cover myself with the blanket. When he checks the peephole, he glances back. “It’s your sister.”
“Maia?”
He barely cracks the door before Maia forces her way into the apartment. She closes the door and immediately faces the corner and says, “Are either of you naked?”
Half yes. I stagger to find my clothes. “Just—stay turned around. How did you know I was here?”
“Your phone location, duh.” She huffs impatiently. “Everyone is awake and Dad and Ruby came home early. I heard Dad say he wants to ask you to go to brunch with him so I went to give you a heads-up. And then you weren’t answering.”
“Fuck. Have I mentioned you’re the best sister?” I say, ripping off Wesley’s shirt and tossing it to him. My stomach tingles from his unabashed stare at my breasts. I step into my pants and turn for him to fix the back of my shirt for me. When he’s done, he wraps his arms around me from behind, burying his face in my neck to plant a quick kiss.
“It wouldn’t hurt to mention every so often,” Maia says.
“You can look,” I tell her, grabbing my phone and stepping into my shoes.
Once Maia steps outside, I perch on my toes and pull Wesley into a kiss. He holds me against him without hesitation, biting my lip to keep me from pulling away. I shove down the urge to slam the door behind Maia so Wesley and I can steal a little more of the night.
“I’ll text you later today,” I mutter.
His expression is as crestfallen as mine. If only the sun would rest for a few more hours. “Okay,” he whispers with a nod, and I follow my sister into the hallway.
I manage to escape Dad by hopping in the shower before he reaches my room.
We’ll have to talk again at some point, but all my mental strength is gone. Not only do I need to help the communications team with our lineage announcement, I also need to tell Raven and pack up my entire life. My stomach aches with grief to leave her—even if she’s settled and living with her boyfriend. I’ll tell her when I return home.
Despite the grief, my excitement for the future intensifies: living in Maldana, learning about Mom, helping people, and being a princess.
Wesley.
Over the next few days, acting as if I’m not completely in love with him is torturous. I want to hold his hand. I want to look at him longer than a few seconds. I want him beside me during Sunday brunch with Aunt Bev and the family.
I want everyone to know that I can be loved.
Having him entirely is more invigorating than I imagined. It’s not just that I feel special because I get to see a side of him he rarely shows; it’s the fullness I feel with him. While I love how he physically fills me—even the memory gives me chills—Wesley has each part of me in his arms. My sadness, my joy, my affection—he takes it all like it was meant for him.
I manage to carve an hour of “shopping” between meetings. In reality, Wesley and I get french fries and ice cream and put the world on pause for the afternoon. We sneak off to a tiny park and sit under the shade on a bench. There are plenty of things for us to work out and plan, but we fall into a rhythm of silence, followed by a debate of what’s better: small dogs or big dogs. I say both. Wesley says big, of course.
“This is kind of our first date,” I say, “if you think about it.”
He grimaces, tossing an arm behind me while the other strokes my leg draped across his lap. “I can do better than french fries on a park bench.”
I peck his lips. “French fries on a park bench with you sounds nothing short of perfect.”
Wesley smiles. I’m privileged to have the title of princess. Fancy dinners and opulent clothes are going to be the standard now. Together, we can be real and humble.
He gets up to throw our trash away on the sidewalk behind us, but after nearly a minute, I look back. He’s not a slow walker.
“Wes?” I scan the area, but he’s not here. I rise to my feet. “Wesley?”
He wouldn’t disappear without saying anything. Panic seizes me as I wander for some hint of where he is. When I turn and bump into someone, a man says, “Miss Laffley.”
The man is three times my size and has tattoos up his neck. It’s at least eighty-five degrees, and he’s wearing a suit jacket.
“Come this way and I’ll bring you to him,” he says, and his calm tone unsettles me.
“Excuse me? How do you know my name?”
“He’s not here. Come with me; I’ll bring you to him.”
“Where is he?”
The man huffs, his patience thinning. He grabs my arm, firm but gentle—a warning, a sign that he’s stronger than me. My heart jumps into my throat. “This can be easy or difficult. Your choice.”
All I can think of is Wesley and that he wouldn’t leave me. Whoever this person is, I know he did something to him.
“Just tell me where he is,” I grit, fighting the scared and frustrated tears pricking at my eyes as I pull against his tightening grip. Why did I let him touch me?
He shifts his jacket aside to reveal the gun in his waistband. My blood runs cold and my legs almost weaken. “As I’ve said. Easy… or difficult.”
Who is he? Part of Lo Revínastí? Why did they take Wesley?
I glance around for a hint this is all in my head or for Wesley to pop out from around the corner. But there’s nothing. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll take me to him?”
“Yes, madam.”
I nod. Relief rushes through me when the man releases my arm. He gestures toward a black SUV where the door is already open. I’ll be at his mercy the moment I get into the car. I scan around for Wesley again. I could run, hide, and call Jack. But that wouldn’t help Wesley. He could be dead by then.
I get into the car.
The man in the driver’s seat is smaller than the Big Man. I clutch my crossbody bag to my chest. As soon as Big Man slides into the car behind me, the driver pulls off.
“Where are we going?” I ask, only to be met with silence. “Can you at least tell me your name?”
Nothing. The ride continues and fear continues gnawing at my core. Is Wesley okay? Did they kill him already? Why do these men want him?
“Give me your phone,” Big Man suddenly says.
“I-I’d rather not.”
When he reaches into his waistband, I snap, “All right, all right. No need to get all threatening again. Here. You could’ve at least said please.”
He doesn’t reply as he rolls down the window and tosses my phone outside.
“Wha—hey, asshole !” I shove his shoulder before my good sense reminds me not to agitate someone with a gun. “You owe me a new phone!”
All he does is stare at me with a slightly annoyed expression.
Great. I’m definitely going to die.
After ten minutes of driving, the car stops in front of what looks like an office building. It has character, noting its old age, but possesses plenty of modern updates. Big Man opens the door for me and leads us to the elevator. I note the emergency exit in the far-left corner and hope it can be useful later. We take the elevator to the fifth floor. I lock my knees to keep from buckling.
The parting doors reveal a room of cubicles. The personal materials and files on the desks tell me it’s an active business, but I can’t decipher what kind. When Big Man puts me into an office, I collapse into one of the chairs, massaging my knees. No phone. No Wesley. No idea where I am.
I startle when the door opens behind me. A man strides inside, a pleasant expression on his bearded face. He wears a suit without a jacket, tattoos snaking out from his wrists onto his hands. I can tell he’s the boss by how relaxed he is.
“Miss Laffley. I’m quite sorry for the theatrics.”
I rise. “Where’s Wesley?”
“Mr. Troutbeck is preoccupied. But as soon as we’ve conducted our business, you can see him again.”
I exhale slowly. This isn’t Lo Revínastí.
“And who is we?”
The man startles, flicking his head as if annoyed with himself. “Oh—excuse my manners.” He extends a hand. “Arlo Serrano.”
I gently shake his hand. “How do you know who I am?”
Arlo approaches a minibar and uncaps a glass bottle. “Well, I noticed that Mr. Troutbeck has been something of a… detail for you. A bodyguard. I can tell you’re a client of his, but I don’t know why.”
Perhaps my title could help—offer me protection of a sort. But I shouldn’t reveal any information until I see Wesley. I strengthen my voice despite my fear. “I want to see Wesley. Now .”
He tilts his head, his expression reluctant. “I’ve answered your question. It’s only fair you answer mine. For example, we’ve done some research, but the only thing curious about you is your birth certificate. There’s no name listed under mother, and we can’t find any trace of hospital records in your birth city, either. Tell me, why?”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. I don’t know why Mom isn’t on my certificate or how she managed to keep it hidden. The public might want to see it for proof she’s my mom. I make a mental note to ask Aunt Beverly later. If I ever see her again.
“A normal girl,” Arlo continues. “A college graduate—congratulations, by the way.”
After giving attitude to the man who threw my phone from the window, I ensure to remain somewhat polite with Arlo. I’m keenly aware of my limited knowledge, but he’s dangerous. That much I know.
“Thank you.”
“And yet you’re important enough here to need a security detail.”
“I—I’m not at liberty to say.”
He nods, sipping what looks like whisky. “I understand.”
“What business do you have with Wesley?”
With a pleasant smile, he echoes, “I’m not at liberty to say.”
I stare at him as an uneasy silence falls over the room. He’s at least middle-aged, but the wrinkles don’t deter from his intimidating nature.
My stomach drops when I hear a muffled “NINA!”
“Wesley?” I peer through the office’s glass wall for a hint of Wesley, but I don’t see him. I look at Arlo, my patience vanishing. If he wants to stop me, he’ll have to kill me. I yank the door open and hurry toward the voice.
“I wouldn’t go that way,” Arlo says cryptically. The fact that he’s not following me intensifies my fear. This is exactly what he wants me to do.