Chapter 8
Kjell
I tap my notepad with the pen softly as Skady seems to search for an answer.
No. Sky . That's what she wants to be called, making this situation even more peculiar along with her instructions. It's evident she wants to keep her identity a secret. But why? Doesn't she realize that her information can be found in the birth registry? Anyone who knows how could uncover that Blohm has a daughter. Even if there are no public photos of Sky, her appearance could likely be discovered through thorough research.
With her chin raised, she stares at the back of the taxi driver's head. "The third rule, no questions," she states matter-of-factly.
Since she opened the door for me today, her behavior has been strange. At times, she seems like a new, fun-loving Sky. Then I catch glimpses of the old, haughty Sky. Just like now. How she doesn't even look at me when she speaks. The arrogant way she formulates her instructions.
That alone is why I manage to continue deceiving her.
Incredible as it is for me, in the past twelve hours, I've actually lied twice—twice as many times as I have in the five years before.
Half the night, I searched for this S?derberg. On the fifteenth call I made this morning, I finally got it right. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I pretended to be an employee of Touch av lyx and declined the job for Milan.
"Note that down. No questions." Sky's voice brings me back to reality.
I pretend to jot down the third absurd rule as well. "And what if I want to know where the restroom is?"
She snorts. "Then you follow the signs that say 'restroom.'"
"Very funny," I reply dryly.
Not a second later, she turns to face me, fixing her gaze on me. She even squints her eyes a little as if that would help her see me better. "Yes," she murmurs absentmindedly. "Very funny."
It's not easy to guess what's going on in her head. Perhaps she's considering how to get rid of me, or maybe she's wondering why my face looks familiar. Does she remember after all?
Nonsense. During her numerous visits, she never consciously looked at me; that was far beneath her dignity. Therefore, it feels strange to be looked at so intensely by her today. An odd fluttering sensation stirs within me. I feel vulnerable to her and her deep blue eyes.
"And what if I need permission for specific shots?" I continue to ask because she is the last person I want to be vulnerable to. The first two rules were already ridiculous, but this one takes the cake. No one can ask no questions. How is that supposed to work?
She clears her throat, then raises her eyebrows. "I said no questions, and you're already asking the second one in a row. What part of that didn't you understand?" Skady, alias Sky, tries to sound strict, yet something in her tone isn't forceful or commanding.
It's fear.
She can't fool me; I know she's hiding something. Is it just that she's Blohm's daughter? Or is there more?
The last rule suggests there is. No questions. That practically screams secrets. But for now, I'll leave it at that.
I raise my hands in a pretended compromise. "Understood," I say. Challenge accepted , I think, already searching for ways to make her talk without asking questions.
Unfortunately, it's not that easy. The rest of the way to the airport remains silent in the taxi. I discreetly size her up, but most of the time, all I see are her wild curls. She turns as far away from me as possible, facing the window where the city's facades and then the pre-winter expanse of Stockholm's outskirts pass by. The sun rises slowly behind the trees. Shadows and light play across her head in succession, causing her hair to shimmer.
She wants nothing to do with me, only checking her phone every twenty seconds, paralyzed. I shouldn't care about that, but somewhere deep inside me, it still feels lousy.
I want to learn more about her. I want to know who she is and what's going on in her mind—for work, of course.
We're taken to an outdoor area at the airport where a flashy small plane is waiting. If this doesn't fit the picture perfectly, I don't know what does. Little Skady, alias Sky, was probably showered with amenities her whole life, which is why she turned into such an arrogant cow.
"Must be nice to own a private jet," I say as I follow her up the plane's stairs.
"Mm-hmm," she murmurs so softly that I can barely hear her over the noise of the engines.
"Where may I…" Stop. That would be a question, and I'm not supposed to ask any. "I'll take this one," I say cheekily, pointing at the seat obviously reserved for the most important person on the plane.
An impressive leather chair, similar to an executive office chair. All the other seats are narrow and inconspicuous.
I sit down with a feigned sigh of satisfaction. I don't miss her stunned expression. I grin openly at her. This is what she gets for her dumb rule.
"Come, sit here," I motion to the seat opposite. "We can get to know each other a bit on the way."
She didn't expect that. She quickly brushes her hair from her face. "Uh…"
"As far as I can see, that doesn't break any rules. I won't ask any questions. Promise," I add conspiratorially.
Our gazes lock. Perhaps for a bit too long.
"You can't do that," she challenges, jutting her chin.
The corners of my mouth lift involuntarily. "Wanna bet?"
"Busted! That was a question." The joy in her face should bother me, but it doesn't. On the contrary, I'd like to see a lot more of it.
"One to nil for you." I nod again toward the seat opposite. Let's see if I can catch up.
Without breaking eye contact, she sinks into the chair and fastens her seat belt. It's as if we're playing a game. She says nothing; her expression alone is enough to challenge me. And so, we simply look at each other as the plane starts moving. We hold it as we taxi onto the runway. And even before we lose contact with the ground, strangely, I feel like I'm already flying.
***
An hour later, only the plane is in flight. Unfortunately, shortly after takeoff, Sky cheekily plugged in her headphones and opened her laptop. It was as if she wanted to shut me out. I almost believed her cocky demeanor, but only almost.
Those deep blue eyes can't hide anything from me, especially not the unease that constantly surrounds her like a thin veil of mist. And now, seeing her look up from her laptop, chin resting on her hand, contemplating the passing cumulus clouds, a thousand questions burn within me. So intensely that they'll consume me if I don't extinguish them with answers.
I pull my laptop out of my bag and begin writing down all the questions I'm not allowed to ask. My fingers fly over the keys, and by the time my ears start to pop due to the descent, I've filled five pages.
I will answer every single one of these questions.
The steward in the red-and-black uniform appears next to us. "We are landing, so electronic devices must be turned off," he says, gesturing to our computers.
Sky's gaze flickers to me—cautiously, inquisitively—then she closes her laptop.
"Your company is highly inspiring," I say to break the silence, tucking my notebook away. After all, I need to break through her shell to see who she really is. I've already made her smile with my witty remarks.
"We can definitely do this silent together thing more often," she says, smiling sweetly. "In fact, let's start right now."
Normally, she should turn away, but she doesn't. She can't fool me. She's enjoying this game, and she's waiting for my comeback.
And she'll get it.
Before I can respond, though, she sneezes so adorably that I forget what I wanted to say. I might be grinning like an idiot. "Bless you."
She looks around, so I pull a pack of tissues from my jacket pocket. I take one out and flick it through the air with such force that it makes a muffled sound.
"You're welcome." I offer her the tissue.
A tiny crease forms between her brows, then she tilts her head. She thoughtfully takes the tissue and blows her nose. "Hey, do we know each other?"
She has to figure it out herself. "Rule number three, no questions," I deadpan. Admittedly, it's a bit mean, but I can't help it. I want to see her smile, even for a moment.
She rolls her eyes. "That only applies to you. I can ask as many questions as I want."
Of course. You're the princess, and everyone else is your subjects. You haven't changed at all , I'd love to say to her, but that would give her a hint.
At this moment, I realize how to break through to her. "Counterproposal: For every answered question, I get to ask a counterquestion."
She presses her lips together, and my gaze lingers on her mouth. "I need to think about that."
That was a maybe. So she would break her own rule. It's important to her to find out where we know each other from. Interesting.
I smile, maybe a bit too warmly. "Take all the time you need."
Now she's nibbling on her lower lip. Even if her fingers weren't playing with each other, I'd know what that means.
I'll soon learn her secret.
I should be satisfied, but I turn to the window with regret and uncertainty. We're already very close to the ground, and I wonder how time could pass so quickly. It feels like we just started our descent a few seconds ago, and now we're touching down on the runway with a gentle jolt.
Sky immediately reaches for her phone again—once more. Does she have a boyfriend with whom she exchanges sweet love messages?
As so often before, she looks disappointed. Her lover probably isn't responding.
"He'll probably get back to you soon." I peel myself out of the seat and sling my shoulder bag over my shoulder, pretending not to watch her. But in reality, I observe her reaction down to the smallest detail.
Everything is important, even the vehement shaking of her head as she puts her phone away.
So she doesn't have a boyfriend, at least not one she's waiting for a message from.
Interesting.
The ringing of her phone breaks the silence between us. Sky frantically rummages through her handbag. She pulls out her mobile phone, checks the display, and becomes even paler than she already is.
"I..." she stammers. "Wait here."
She barely finishes her sentence before she turns and rushes to the exit.
I stare after her, bewildered.
What the hell was that just now? What call could shake her like that? Could it have something to do with her father?
I mentally add the question to my list, saunter up to the front, and peek out of the jet.
Sky stands at the foot of the stairs. The wind blows her hair into her face, and her words are carried in the wrong direction. I can only read her body language to figure out what's going on inside her. And it's incredibly tense.