Chapter 25
Florian
My heart soars high as the hot air balloon that flies over the crowds.
Shit, did I really just think that? It’s like something a thirteen-year-old would write in their journal.
I don’t care. Falling for my boss has brought out my dramatic side.
At first I was pissed when he dragged me out of the archery demonstration, especially considering how much love I was getting from the crowd.
Then I realized it was actually pretty hot, the way he stepped in and decided I was too precious to risk.
And yes, the laws here in Galbrava are a travesty and something should be done about it, but now that we’re falling for each other it doesn’t seem the worst thing in the world to be forced to obey my boss.
With the mess I’ve made of my life, maybe it’s time someone else takes over for a while.
He can’t do a worse job than me. Actually, he’s doing a much better job.
No gambling, no drinking, all that exercise as we work side by side, watching over me all the time, protecting me from any danger.
.. I’ll probably live to a hundred and fifty at this rate.
When he made love to me, he was so tender.
I don’t know what’s changed between us, but I’m not going to risk ruining it by analyzing it too much.
All I know is, I feel so warm and safe in the focus of his dark eyes.
He can’t hide the affection there anymore.
Then there’s his other side. Equally appealing.
The dominant way he spoke to me after the archery demonstration.
Backing me into the wall. Telling me to obey.
My cock stirs, hopefully. I clench my thigh muscles, reminding myself I’ll have to wait until we get home before I can indulge that feeling again.
“Next balloon flight in ten minutes,” an announcer yells.
The voice jolts me back to the present. I try to forget my horniness and savor the moment.
Balloon flights don’t come around every week, and my boss has offered to come flying with me.
This is going to be ultra romantic. The price is steep, but apparently he doesn’t mind paying for me—on top of the ridiculously expensive lunch.
We watch the balloon slowly descend. The passengers disembark, and then it’s our turn to get in.
“If I get scared, will you look after me?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says.
I’m not going to get scared. I’ve flown before and I fucking love it.
But I like how he keeps his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulder as the balloon ascends, slow and majestic.
A welcome coolness creeps into the stifling air as the city spreads out below us, becoming smaller and at the same time easier to see.
There’s a clarity from watching your life on the ground appear to you all at once from the air.
There’s the casino where I had so many trysts, until they were brought to an abrupt halt when Grimes took control of me.
There’s my boarding house several streets away.
My landlady is probably inside right now, harrying someone about overdue rent.
She wouldn’t be seen dead at something as common as a fair.
As we climb ever higher, I spot the lonely little road out to Grimes’ house.
Our house. The wooden structure looks rickety and rundown, but not as sad as the first time I saw it.
It looks like home now. A tiny spot of welcome in the empty red desert.
“What do you think, Boss?” I say. “Enjoying yourself?”
He gives me a tight smile. I think he’s a little scared, but too proud to show it.
“Yes,” he says. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” he says, all gruff and embarrassed.
It looks adorable on him. It spurs me on to ask a question.
“Boss, I don’t understand. At first you acted like all you wanted from me was hard work. Now you’re buying me stuff and… you know.” I skate quickly over what we did in bed last night. “So what’s happened between us ?”
His face closes over. It’s like closing a book on his thoughts. Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so direct. As usual I can’t stop myself from running my mouth.
“Can we talk when we get back to earth?” he says.
His expression has gotten dark. Tense. Worry eats at me. What do we have to talk about? I’m nervous for the rest of the flight, barely seeing the views. When we hit the ground, I can’t wait any longer. I pull Grimes over to a table next to a food stall and sit him down.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I plead. “I hate waiting.”
He gives me a wry smile. “That tracks.” His hand flits up beneath his hood to scratch at his tattoo. His usual nervy habit. “Florian, what I’m going to tell you will be hard to hear,” he says.
He sounds so ominous. My heart starts racing.
Is he going to rip it out already, just after winning it?
Going to tell me he doesn’t want me anymore?
Maybe I did something wrong in bed last night.
Maybe I was too needy, too desperate for his affection.
I showed my heart too much, and I’ve scared him off.
Maybe he really does only want me for work.
I should’ve known this was too good to be true.
I don’t get happy ever afters. I get trysts, flings, people I never see again for one reason or another.
Something always goes wrong. He’s still just looking at me with those dark brown eyes with the russet specks.
Is that pity in his eyes, or guilt? He moistens his chapped lips with his tongue.
“Florian, I…I already knew you,” he says.
“Er, what?”
He swallows, and with a herculean effort, he says, “That night at the casino when we first met. You thought I was a stranger, but I knew exactly who you were.”
My instincts tell me this is bad, it’s got to be, because I’ve never seen that look on his face before. Tortured. Like he’s forcing himself to walk into certain pain. All at once the beating sun is hammering at my head, making it hard to think.
“Sorry, I’m not following,” I say.
“I knew I could lure you into thinking I was propositioning you. I knew I could beat you at afi because you were so drunk and, er, distracted.” That’s a diplomatic way of describing my obvious desire for him. “It was all a set-up. I wanted two year’s labor from you. And I got it.”
“It was all a scheme for a cheap servant?”
I let that news settle. Considering his man-about-to-be-tortured expression, I expected much worse.
He isn’t dumping me, which is the main thing.
So he’s a bit of a cheapskate. A bit sneaky.
He used my reputation as someone who enjoys a good time to trick me into becoming his indentured laborer.
Still, as long as what I felt between us in bed was real…
“That’s not too bad,” I say. “I forgive you.”
“No, that’s not even half of it.” He clenches his fists, spurring himself on. “The two years was supposed to be a… a punishment.”
I stare at him, nonplussed. “A punishment? For what? You don’t even know me.”
“I do. You’re the man who ruined my life.”
I what? I lean back, suddenly scared. He sounds so serious.
This man practically owns me, and he thinks I ruined his life?
I’ve lived with him for weeks without hearing him mention it.
We spent the night together… he was inside me.
I feel ill. The scent of fatty grilled meat from the food stall wasn’t bothering me until this moment, but now it makes me feel queasy.
I take a breath, place my hands flat on the table to ground myself.
I have to stay calm. I have no authority here.
Stupid fucking Galbravan laws. Even if Grimes is unstable, even if he’s dangerous, I’m stuck with him.
“Boss, what are you talking about?” There’s a quiver in my voice despite my attempts to stay in control. “I’ve never met you before. I couldn’t have ruined your life.”
I sound like I’m pleading for mercy. Grimes looks like it’s breaking him.
“It’s all right, Florian,” he says softly. “I’m not angry anymore. At least, I am angry, but I don’t need revenge anymore. Not after what happened between us last night.”
He reaches out for my hands but I snatch them away like he stings.
My heart is pounding, heavy and terrified.
I have that same trapped feeling, like back at the casino when he first got his claws into me.
He doesn’t look like the man who made love to me anymore.
He looks like the hulking, hooded character who stalked me across the afi table like prey.
His eyes are soft and sorry, and he’s biting his lip like he wants to make things right but has no idea how.
Even so. He just looks like a threat to me now.
“How?” I ask, my voice weak. “How did I ruin your life?”
He takes a deep breath. “Do you remember a bar in Rhennes named the Wagon?”
“Yes.”
My voice is colorless, automatic, because my mind is working overtime. I used to go to the Wagon almost every week. It was a rough establishment, one of the places my father scorned, but since I had already moved out of the family home by then, there wasn’t much he could do about it but scowl.
“Do you remember one night when you got into an argument with a couple of Durovians?” Grimes says.
I think back. I avoid fights and arguments as much as possible, but some people are hard to get along with, especially when alcohol is involved. Sometimes people took my rich clothes personally. Sometimes they took me personally.
“The bar manager asked you to leave,” Grimes prompts.