Chapter 9
SOLEIL
Soleil woke in a languorous daze, her body still tender but no longer trembling.
The fever was gone, the ache in her bones now dull.
Even the chill that gripped her lungs a few hours earlier was a distant memory.
She glanced at the windows and then at the digital readout on the wall clock.
Fokk, it was morning.
She had slept through a night cycle.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she slid from bed and wrapped the soft robe she found on a chair nearby around herself, savoring the silken lining sliding against her skin.
With tentative steps, she padded out of the guest room and into the open dining area of Santi’s cabin and came to an abrupt stop.
She blinked at a table overflowing with abundance, breathing in the scent of food and brewed kahawa stirred.
Golden flatbread folded into quarters beside a clay dish of scrambled freekeh eggs laced with wild herbs.
Fried haloumi cheese glistened alongside roasted cherry tomatoes and purple sweet potato hash.
Small bowls of berry compote, fig preserves, and churned butter framed the spread.
She gasped, but it wasn’t the feast that arrested her breath.
It was him.
Santi stood at the stove in his massive kitchen, broad-shouldered and barefoot, clad only in a T-shirt and shorts.
His dark hair was charmingly mussed, looking as though he had just run a hand through it.
He held a pair of tongs in one hand, flipping a final round of sausages in the pan.
His gaze lifted, and when it met hers, a slow, crooked grin unfurled.
‘Mi sol, didn’t expect you up so early.’
‘The delicious aromas got to me.’
She clutched the robe tighter around herself, aware of her bare legs and the flush blooming up her throat.
‘I see that,’ he murmured, eyes darkening as they swept down and back up again her body, unapologetically. ‘Sit.’
She obeyed, nestling into the corner seat at the long table.
He joined her moments later, now with a fresh towel draped over one shoulder, and loaded her plate before setting it in front of her.
‘You made all this?’
‘I cook to relax,’ he rasped, shrugging, then passed her a steaming cup of kahawa.
This man.
She took a sip, the bitter, rich liquid warming her all the way down. ‘Sante. This is amazing. I’ve never had anyone do this for me.’
They got into the food and ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, until his gaze fell on her once more.
‘No one’s ever whipped up breakfast for you before?’ he rasped, tone casual but eyes sharp.
She shook her head, smiling. ‘Not really.’
‘Not even a boyfriend?’
Soleil froze with a forkful of sweetroot halfway to her mouth. ‘Never had one,’ she confessed.
She’d slept with men, a few fumbling nights with kinais who wanted nothing past the quick hit of ecstasy, every encounter born of ache and loneliness.
He studied her in silence for a moment. ‘Why not?’
She shrugged.
He pushed a glass of iced karnak juice toward her. ‘You sidestepped the question, Soleil. You’re a stunning woman with the ability to stop ships and steal a man’s focus the way you do. So why hasn’t someone claimed that position?’
‘Maybe I haven’t had a man because I haven’t found anyone worth the effort. Or perhaps I’m picky.’
His brow arched. ‘What are you looking for?’
She took an inhale and gave his question thought.
After a few moments, she shared. ‘A confident, caring partner who gives me my freedom and lets me fly.’
‘Is that the man for you?’
Her jaw tightened, but she kept her voice breezy. ‘Why are you asking? Are you applying?’
The words slipped out too fast, unconsidered.
His brows lifted. Santi rested his chin on his fist, his gilded eyes holding hers.
‘Applying?’
He drawled the single drawled word in a timbred rasp.
She flushed and glanced away. ‘Sorry. That was silly.’
He leaned in, his face solemn. ‘Not in the least. Tis a valid question. So what if I applied? If the application process for the position is not notoriously rigorous, you’ll find I’m a killer at whipping up breakfast, and I keep my space mostly tidy with a little help from you.
I also run a tight ship, and I sometimes blow up the Wildlight to keep us all safe.
Best of all, I’ve a kickass midnight kiss routine and can rock your world and bring you bliss more than you know, tesoro. How am I doing so far?’
Her eyes widened. Blood pounded in her ears as she considered her following words with care. ‘You’d get a look in.’
He flung his beautiful head back and laughed, a rich, hoarse chuckle that sent shivers down her spine.
Fokk, he was gorgeous.
Her eyes fell on his nape, on the thick muscles of his upper torso, then back to his fae eyes, eyes dancing, mouth curved, and those eyes, damn.
‘You’re a trip, mi sol.’
‘You keep calling me that,’ she murmured.
His eyes narrowed on her. ‘And you like it.’
She flushed and cast her eyes away to the stunning view of the lake, her heart pounding.
She did. What the hell was happening?
When she turned back, she found him leaning back in his chair, those scorching eyes on her. ‘Feel better this morning?’
She nodded.
‘Good.’
His expression intensified. ‘As intriguing as this significant interview is, the universe doesn’t stop spinning. I have a frigate and fleet to manage, which means I need to get ready for work.’
He rose with a finality that brooked no argument. ‘Finish your meal, tesoro. We’ll continue the application process and the conversation when I return.’
Without another word, he strode out of the room.
She winced. Shit.
She’d revealed too much.
She stared at the tabletop, sipping her kahawa, breaking apart a bun, and playing with its crumbs.
Minutes passed before he emerged again, dressed now in his sleek black Signet XO uniform.
The tight fit accentuated every flex of his muscled thighs and chest, the silver insignia on his collar gleaming under the light.
She stood, her pulse rate erratic. ‘I wanted to say sante for your help before you leave. Also, I think it’s best I find accommodation elsewhere and not overstay my welcome. I’ll be gone when you get back.’
He stilled, eyes locking with hers like a missile system.
‘Fokk nada, carino. I won’t let you.’
Her breath hitched as she sank back into her seat.
He seemed almost offended by her offer to leave.
‘You’re still unwell and need a roof over your head so you’ll be here when I return,’ he growled, with no compromise in his stern tone and closed face.
With that, he turned on his heel and left her blinking at him, the finality of his demand sending her heart thrumming, making her knees freakin’ weak.
Damn.
Soleil was elbow-deep in warm, soapy water, cleaning up after the sumptuous breakfast, when her commtab buzzed against the kitchen counter.
She rinsed her hands, wiped them on a cloth, and picked it up.
A holo shimmered to life with the soft crackle of static, and then Wren’s face appeared, scruffy, tired, and more solemn than usual.
‘Hey,’ he murmured. ‘How are you?’
She gave him a quick rundown. ‘Got a lung infection, but it’s clearing fast.’
‘Good. Another reason I’m calling is that I got an update from Alvarro.’
Soleil’s spine straightened. ‘From Santi?’
Wren nodded. ‘He told me what happened and that you were sick and needed time to recuperate. Hell, Soleil, we didn’t even know you were missing until he called me askin’ after you. You should’ve said something.’
She lowered her gaze, guilt rising in her chest. ‘It was a shitshow, and by the time you and Astra called, I was too weak to pick up .’
‘Well,’ Wren sighed, ‘the XO took note and thank the gods of the Wildlight that he went searching for you.’
Soleil’s lips parted. ‘I’m sorry about all this.’
‘Don’t be,’ Wren cut in, raising a hand. ‘Rest, okay? Take the week to heal.’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘A whole seven days?’
‘Yeah, you’re off all shifts and rotations.’ He scratched his beard, then added with a tone steeped in awe, ‘Also, your contract’s been made permanent.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘Did I stutter?’
A rare smile tugged at the corners of Wren’s mouth. ‘You’re full-time now. No more short-term placements. Housing rights. Medical. Access to crew benefits and a sweet raise. All of it.’
Soleil froze. Her throat went tight.
‘Why?’ she murmured, half in shock.
Wren huffed. ‘Because the XO of this mother ship said so, and when Santiago Alvarro gives an order, we don’t ask twice, we obey. See you when you’re back, woman, and don’t get into any more trouble, please.’
Soleil stood stunned as the call ended with a soft tone, and the holo image shimmered away.
‘Full time,’ she whispered.
The word hovered in the air, then she whooped, spinning once on the spot, relief bubbling up from deep in her aching ribs.
She clutched the counter, head down, as the emotion caught up to her. Trembling fingers pressed to her lips.
Santi had done this.
For the first time in forever, she was free to earn her own money on a permanent basis and perhaps save enough to shake loose her shackles.
It took her a few minutes to get used to the reality.
With a smile on her face and needing to freshen up, she stirred.
Rising to her feet, she padded to the corner chair.
Where the a small pile of her clothes - her gray sweats, a torn tee, her battered but intact sneakers from the night before - sat folded, and cleaned.
She ran her hands over them as her eyes filled up.
After dressing, she moved through the guest suite, sunlight warming her face.
The glass doors opened to a shaded terrace facing the artificial lake, and she curled up on the divan, a blanket wrapped around her.
The view was ethereal.
Floating watercraft cut soft Vs through the calm, lavender-blue surface, and white shorebirds skimmed overhead.
In the distance, mist clung to the rolling treeline, veiling the far shoreline in a dreamlike hush.
The water caught the light like liquid crystal, turning each ripple into a silver thread. Somewhere nearby, the breeze sang through the leaves.
A chime sounded, and a voice rang out from the speakers in the cabin.
‘Soleil, it’s Miral. The Signet Group’s Assistant. Is it OK for me to visit now?’
Soleil took a breath. ‘Of course.’
Seconds later, Miral shimmered into view on the terrace steps, elegant in a metallic bronze blazer, a short, tight skirt, and impossible bronze heels.
A hover case floated beside her.
‘I come bearing gifts. A fresh set of clothes, shoes, body wash, shampoo, and even makeup.’
Soleil stared, overwhelmed. ‘You didn’t have to.’
‘Santi asked me to,’ Miral said, eyes compassionate. ‘I also wanted to.’
‘He’s too kind,’ Soleil muttered, as she sat up. ‘Why, though? Why care at all?’
Miral gave a small, enigmatic smile. ‘While he comes across as a rake, it’s a veneer, Soleil. He’s a strategic operator who chooses with caution the people he lets into his world, home, and heart.’
Soleil tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.
Miral continued. ‘However, underneath his laconic exterior, Santi is a kind and most generous man, so consider yourself lucky that he esteems you so much, and is giving you the royal queen treatment.’
Soleil’s breath hitched. Queen?
The word thundered through her skull like a curse. Her stomach clenched, her throat tightened. Her fingers began to shake.
She jerked upright, muttering, ‘I see.’
Miral narrowed her eyes, then smiled.
But not before Soleil caught a flash of suspicion in the synth AI’s gaze.
Damn.
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ Miral intoned, rising to her feet. ‘You must want to rest.’
‘Naam, please.’
The Signet scuttlebutt waved and glimmered away.
With an inhale, Soleil hurried back inside the guest suite and into the bathroom, locking the door with trembling hands.
She braced herself on the counter and stared at her reflection.
Don’t fokkin’ attract more attention, stay hidden and unseen, her old self warned.
Yet deeper still, another, more hopeful soul voice whispered.
Arise, for you’re not the shackled queen your enemies make you to be, but the free spirit you’ve always prayed to be.