Chapter 46
Lila Logan Cameron
Call sign: Cassiopeia
Lila burst into the chart house. She couldn’t help her excitement: it might as well have been Christmas Eve. First, Tia and
Rylan’s birthday was tomorrow. And second, Lila knew that this would be her last night on this godforsaken ship.
“There you two are!” she gushed. The twins were kneeling on the floor of the chart house, staring at each other with faces
as white as ghosts. “Why the long faces, my loves? It’s your birthday eve.”
The twins got to their feet, moving a little too quickly for it to be normal. Must be birthday nerves, Lila decided. Big things
seemed to happen to the Camerons on June 5.
“So sorry to interrupt, but you’re going to need to move this party to your cabin.”
Tia blinked. “Why? It’s not even midnight yet.”
Lila clasped her hands. “Because it’s your birthday tomorrow, and the birthday fairy doesn’t like it when prying children
see her setting up. Plus, the weather has soured a bit, so best to hunker down for the evening.”
“Mom . . .” Tia’s embarrassed-by-her-mom voice was way more toned down than usual. She didn’t even add a whine when she said Mom.
Rylan’s head dropped to give him a wonderful view of his bare feet.
“Time for bed,” Lila said in a singsong voice.
“You seem awfully cheerful,” Tia eyed her with suspicion.
“I got a good night’s sleep for once. First night in a week I didn’t dream about Nico flipping MJ’s dead body faceup in the
water.” The description got the desired effect from Tia, whose eyes went huge. She didn’t question any more as Lila ushered
them out of the chart house, through the salon, and down the hall to the cabins.
Francis materialized from the primary suite and roped his arm around Lila’s waist. “Locking up the prisoners for the night,
Lil?”
Tia rounded on him. “That supposed to be funny, Dad?”
Oh God. Lila just needed to keep the peace a few more hours. She already felt herself on edge now that Nico de la Vega knew about
her affair.
“Go get your pajamas on,” Lila snapped, but her daughter didn’t spare her a glance.
“No, really. I’m curious. You think you’re funny?”
Francis smiled, all too pleased. “Categorically.”
“Right, I get it,” said Tia. “We’re prisoners because you kidnapped us, right? Hilarious.”
Rylan had gone gray, and Lila almost smacked her daughter across the face. Couldn’t she see how this was affecting her brother?
“Tia. Bed. Now.”
Again, Tia didn’t look her way.
“Listen to your mom,” Francis said like he was playing a father on television. Like he had a paunch and beard and a waggling
finger. Listen to your mother, now.
“My love,” Lila said, stepping right into her daughter’s view. “Go lie down. The birthday fairy—”
“What is going on, Dad?” Tia shouted over Lila’s head. “What have you been ordering Alejandro around to do? What’s happening
in the bilges?”
Francis’s brows pinched. “The bilges?”
Lila clapped her hands in Tia’s face, and Tia startled. “Young lady. I want you in bed. Now.”
“Tia . . .” Rylan pleaded.
Finally, Tia looked at Lila, and the battle shifted to center on them.
“Why are you always defending him?”
Just a few more hours, Lila thought, her core clenched. Everyone needs to remain calm for just a few more hours.
“Darling, I’m de-escalating. There is no point in this right now.”
Tia whipped her head back and forth furiously. “It’s not about there being a point. The point is that we don’t let him get
away with this. He’s taking us somewhere! And either you’re a victim too and you’re standing by, or you’re part of it! Either
way you’re letting it happen.”
Lila wished she could see some of herself in this fierce and fiery young woman. Maybe their eyes were the same shape and shade
(almond and black-cherry soap). Maybe their complexion was similar enough to be a gradient in a paint catalog (natural linen
to sand dollar). But if Lila hadn’t been there when the doctor pulled a slippery infant out of Lila’s body, she’d be hard-pressed
to find evidence that this girl was her own.
Tia was right that Lila didn’t know anything about a plan. But she was wrong to think her mother was standing by, that she
ever just stood by. Tia didn’t know a thing about her. She’d never bothered to.
“Bed,” Lila said. “I am no longer asking.”
Tia snorted, nostrils flared like some beast’s while Rylan cowered behind her. Lila felt momentarily ill looking at the two
of them, at the things she’d created.
“You’re letting him ruin this family,” Tia spat as her closing remark, before turning on her heel with Rylan. They crossed
the threshold of their bedroom.
Lila stepped after them. She was so very sick of letting other people get the final word.
“Better than leaving this family, isn’t it? It takes a certain commitment to ruin a thing, don’t you think, lovey? Takes nothing at all to leave
it behind.”
Rylan stared at Lila in openmouthed horror. Even Francis had the decency to blink back his surprise. Lila took off her sun
hat and fanned herself free of the heat that bloomed in her face.
“Sleep tight,” she told her children before reaching out and closing their door for them.
Francis followed behind her as she stalked to the safety of the salon.
“Some birthday surprise,” he commented.
Lila wasn’t having it. She would put him in his place too, if necessary.
“You know I had plans, Francis. I had gifts and guests lined up for the twins’ birthday. I had a hair appointment scheduled
for this morning, an audition next week, and a trip with a friend.”
Francis leaned against the wall, his full attention fixed on her. Had he taken that as an accusation? She hoped so. It was.
Lila inhaled and calmed. She rarely, if ever, snapped at him.
“Anyways . . .” She took another deep breath to clear her head. “Alejandro just put the meat loaf in the fridge to defrost it for tomorrow. And I was hoping you would help me slap together some decorations so the twins can at least get the sense of a normal birthday.”
Best to keep everyone busy and the momentum moving forward until midnight.
“That’s a great idea.” Francis let his arms drop. He stepped toward her. Alarm bells went off in Lila’s head. What was this
about the bilges? Had he caught that comment? What exactly did Tia know? “How about a poster with their names on it?”
“Well, we don’t really have poster board . . .”
“We could cut out little fish and hang them around the salon. Have Rylan pretend he’s living underwater.”
It wasn’t a bad plan, albeit a rather juvenile one for a pair of teenagers, but Lila didn’t say so. She couldn’t find her
voice.
Francis backed her into the couch until her knees buckled and she fell onto the cushions. “Or—I know—how about another tea
party? We can set out sugar cubes and teacups.”
“Francis—”
“We can tell our children how brilliant and beautiful and strong they both are.”
Lila’s hands twisted her silk robe, which pooled in her lap. “Francis, don’t—”
“We can ask them what drives them, what burns in them, what makes them Camerons.” He leered at her. “What makes us Camerons, Lil?”
He knew.
She didn’t know how, but she knew he did. He knew about her and Alejandro. He had been monitoring her; the matching jewelry
gift to Tia at the beginning of the trip had been evidence of that, had been his way of sending a message that he was watching.
But she could have sworn they’d been careful . . .
“Well?” he asked, and she reached up for his face. It seemed to surprise him.
“We take,” she answered simply. She couldn’t reach his cheek without standing, and she couldn’t stand unless he backed away. So she waited, arm outstretched.
Francis regarded her, shoulders rife with tension. Then he took her hand. Pulled her to her feet as daintily as if she were
a ballerina or a cherry blossom. She leaned her weight into him.
He wanted to be the one taking, that’s all. He couldn’t stand being taken from. It was disloyalty that upset him most.
“You’re right.” The fight seemed to drain from him. Or perhaps his anger repositioned itself.
He trailed a finger through her hair, caught a small knot, broke it loose. The finger found Lila’s jawbone and ran down the
line of her face, snagged on her chin. He tilted her head up.
“We take,” he echoed.
Then he climbed up the companionway of the salon. Lila followed. Wind hummed on deck, a requiem. Or maybe the beginnings of
a hymn. Lila wore nothing but silk panties beneath her robe, and the wind found its way underneath, nipping at the softer
parts of her skin. She shouldn’t have been cold on this part of the Atlantic in June, but clouds bruised the southern sky.
They were sailing into a storm.
“Nico, you’re relieved of watch duty early,” Francis snapped at Nico, who was at the helm with Alejandro.
Alejandro’s eyes met Lila’s. She wondered what she looked like to him. Frightened and fragile? Desperate to warn him? She
commanded herself to do so, but her body didn’t listen.
“Relieved? I thought you wanted me to take your whole shift tonight,” Nico said.
“Storm’s brewing. I want to take charge. Go on.”
They traded places. Nico nodded to his uncle and disappeared belowdecks.
“How bad’s the storm?” Alejandro asked.
But he wasn’t looking at Francis. He kept his gaze trained on Lila. How could she answer him? She had been crossing her fingers for a tranquil night. Her plan would be smoother that way.
Francis studied the screen, then his friend, both with the same calculating scrutiny. “Looks big. Could be devastating.”
Alejandro nodded as if the news were a death sentence. Lila’s heartbeat set a tempo for the wind’s song. It quickened, and
her tension took on a rhythm like a metronome. Lyrical even.
How does Francis know? What will he do? Is everything in place? Who is Alejandro more loyal to?
“?Está hecho?” she asked, unable to stop herself. She had to know.
Alejandro inclined his head. “Medianoche.”
Francis nodded along as if he understood, though she knew he didn’t. He hadn’t figured out that part, at least. Francis reached