19. Ofelia
Ofelia
“You want me to go back to Granada?” I sip my gin and tonic, trying to conceal my disappointment.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere.” Alexei is wearing sunglasses that do nothing to disguise his grim expression. “Unfortunately, this isn’t about what either of us wants. I’m sorry—I wish it was different.”
It’s almost sunset. We’re seated on the wide sofa on the upper deck of the yacht, looking out over the water.
Alexei has been locked in the secure room since this morning, and by the way he looked when he emerged, whatever news came through isn’t good.
I nod slowly. “Okay. When are we leaving? Tonight?”
“That’s it?” He takes his sunglasses off, looking at me curiously. “You’re not going to ask why?”
“I already know why.” I slide my hand over his, twining our fingers together.
“You forget that I grew up with this,” I say quietly.
“I know it’s business. I know you can’t talk about it.
And before you say it”—I place a finger over his lips, shivering at their touch on my skin—“I know you’re making me leave for my own safety. ”
Alexei turns my hand up, his thumb stroking my palm, and for a moment we just sit there, watching the purpling dusk.
“You should go tonight,” he says eventually. “But we’re too far offshore for a run out, so it will have to be early tomorrow morning.”
So soon.
Knowing it’s been coming doesn’t stop me from feeling the weight of separation like a dark shadow on the edge of our happiness. I shiver.
“I can’t come with you,” he says abruptly. “Back to Granada. It’s too dangerous. I won’t risk anyone seeing us together.”
He doesn’t need to explain why. We both know, all too well, that there are people in our world who won’t hesitate to use me as leverage against Alexei to get whatever it is they want from him.
“Lola will take you and the dragons to another yacht in the morning.” His voice is slightly rough, and I don’t miss the grim set to his mouth. “It’s crewed by Australian friends of hers who are moving it from one port to another. You can go ashore with them tomorrow when they dock to resupply.”
He stands restlessly and walks to the railing, then leans on it as he looks out over the water.
“Your friend Lourdes is going to meet you at the port and take you to the beach for the day, then you’ll drive back to Granada together.
If anyone is watching your house, they’ll just think you’ve been away with her.
Don’t worry,” he says, before I voice my protests.
“Lars got your friend Benny to organize Lourdes, so there’s no connection.
And he’ll have security people watching from a safe distance, just in case.
” He gives me a sideways glance. “It seems Lars has developed something of an interest in classical music. He’s heading to London this weekend to watch Benny perform. ”
That makes me smile. “It sounds like Benny is going to have a lot of gossip next time I see him.”
“Ha.” There’s no humor in the sound Alexei makes, and nothing small about the vodka he pours from the bottle on the table, then knocks off in a couple of swallows.
“What is it?” I ask finally, when he remains silent. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Ofelia.” He grimaces, rubbing a hand over his face.
Getting up from the cushions, I go to stand at the railing beside him. “Alexei.” I mock his serious tone.
He turns to me, taking my hands. “It could be a long time before we see each other again.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.” I’m trying for sarcasm, but even I can hear the sadness beneath my efforts.
“It’s not my choice, angel.” Alexei brushes a stray hair from my face, and I don’t know what’s harder, the gentleness of his touch or his pained expression. “And I will work this shit out. But in the meantime, it really isn’t safe for you to be anywhere near me.”
“I know that.” I drop my head to hide my face.
“But even if I can’t see you in person,” he goes on, “I still want to be able to talk to you, at least.”
I look up in surprise. “I thought you said phones aren’t safe?”
He grins. “They’re not. But if you’re okay with it, I can have a secure room built in your house.
” He lifts a shoulder. “Okay, more like a secure cubicle in this case, but you get my drift. The same kind of thing I have on the yacht. That way I can have a line set up so we can talk. I know video chat is hardly the romantic ideal, but it would be something at least—”
“Oh my God.” I throw my arms around his neck, clinging to him like a limpet, my heart thudding a thousand miles an hour with relief. “It’s everything,” I whisper in his ear. “Being able to talk to you, to see you . . . Yes, Alexei. Please. I don’t care what you have to knock down to get it set up.”
His arms wrap around me, and for a moment we just stand there, savoring each other in the silence.
I’m not sure I realized until this minute just how terrified I’ve been about being apart from him. No matter how incredible this week has been, it’s hard to erase the long years of silence and confusion. Somewhere deep inside I feared that was exactly what was coming for me again.
“There’s something else.” Alexei’s voice comes from above me.
I pull back and eye him. “Something like what?” I say warily.
He grimaces. “I can’t send any of our people to build it. I don’t want to give anyone a reason to start watching you. Or to alert your father, who will rightly want to know why you’re having a high-security comms room installed in your house.”
This time I really do roll my eyes.
Unfortunately, I know he’s right.
“Fine.” I link my hands behind his neck. “So how do we do this, then?”
“You’re not going to like this any more than I do,” he warns me. “But how would you feel if I asked Mickey to set it up?”
“Mickey?” I look up at him in surprise. “Really?”
His eye searches mine. “Is that a yes or a no?”
I lift my shoulders. “I’m just surprised, I guess. I didn’t think you two really got on.”
“Ha.” He gives a humorless laugh. “We definitely have our moments. And I doubt this particular request will make things between us any easier. But I know he will get it set up right, and Lars is sure he’ll do it without telling your father.
My question is whether or not you agree with him—and if you’re comfortable with your brother knowing about us. ”
Knowing about us.
“Do you know how good that sounds?” I press my lips to his, lingering there for a long, sweet moment. “Like there’s an us to know about.”
His brow creases slightly. “After this week, you do know there is an us, Ofelia, surely?”
“I guess I do.” The delicious, bubbly happy feeling starts spreading back through me for the first time since he brought up how long it might be before we see each other again. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it. Often.”
“So that means I can talk to your brother?”
Picturing that particular conversation, I wince. “Maybe let me talk to him first.”
His face shuts down.
“You hate that, don’t you?” I smile. “But I know Mickey. If you ask him, all he’ll do is tell you to fuck off. Unless you’re close enough for him to punch. Or worse, to shoot.”
Alexei snorts derisively.
“Then he’ll call me, and he’ll be so furious that I’ll get furious, so that won’t go well either.”
He gives a reluctant laugh. “You’re probably right.”
“Trust me,” I say feelingly. I know the men in my family far too well. “I’ll call Mickey as soon as I’m home. He’ll come around, don’t worry.”
Alexei’s face darkens. “I hate this,” he says roughly. “All this bullshit.”
“I know,” I say plainly. “But I also know that until you can fix whatever is happening, it’s the smartest course. My father is never going to take this well. But if he finds out about us while you’re still incognito, it’s going to be so, so much worse.”
His scathing expression gives me a clear indication of exactly how little he cares about incurring my father’s famous wrath. But since even the thought of the two of them facing off sends a shudder of horror down my spine, I hastily change the subject.
“Do you have any idea when you might be able to come back?”
“No.” His mouth twists. “It should get easier after November.”
“November!” The word escapes me before I can hide my shock. “But that’s months away!”
“I know.” Alexei strokes my face. “Believe me, I know. Lars and I will try to set something up before then. In the meantime . . .” He lifts a shoulder.
“The secure room,” I say resignedly.
He nods. “The secure room.”
“Well.” Pressing my body against his, I look up at him from beneath my lashes. “I’ve never had phone sex before.”
He grins. “You’d never had any kind of sex before this week, and look at you now, you insatiable demon.”
“I thought I was an angel?”
“You are.” He plucks the glass from my hand and puts it on the table. His mouth descends onto mine, sending fierce heat rushing through every cell. “But if you start torturing me by video call,” he murmurs against my mouth, “I might need to rethink matters.”
I slide my fingers up the iron cords of his thigh. “What might torture look like, exactly?” My fingers glide over his deck shorts, stroking the rapidly growing length beneath them.
Alexei sucks in his breath. “You’re off to a good start right there,” he says, a rough edge to his voice.
He kisses me again, hard enough to make my mind spin, his cock thick and hard beneath the thin material. When my hand finds the broad, spongy head surging above the waistband of his shorts, desire rips through me like fire.
I push his waistband down impatiently, my tongue twining with his.
I don’t think I could ever get tired of this—the raw power of him throbbing in my hand, his tongue stroking mine with dark intent, the sure, deliberate movement of his hands on my body.
My thumb rubs the evidence of his arousal across the head of his cock, and I revel in the momentary stilling of his hands, the silent tension that betrays how much he wants this.
“Lie down.” He stands back from me, eye glittering, cock rearing against his belly.