Chapter 29 – Desta #2
“Soooo… having you inside of me is not enjoyable? Just trying to clarify.”
He leans in and kisses me. “We’ll get there.
I hope. This stuff first. Then later, we’ll go somewhere safer, but no one is going to risk something in broad daylight.
At least I wouldn’t, and I usually have good instincts.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be complacent either and risk your safety. ”
Hiccup and cartwheel. That’s my heart.
God, he’s going to make me fall in love with him, and then what will I do?
We get food and go through the vendors selling art, homemade soap, and alcohol—I have two delicious drinks called margaritas, and I’m in love—and books and clothes.
It’s so fun. All of it is so much better than my imagination.
I feed Ferrin fried cheese, and he makes me taste zeppole, which I’m a big fan of.
Little by little, the day wears on, turning to night.
He holds me close as he guides me away from the main festival grounds. “It’s almost time for the lanterns. I rented us a boat.”
“A boat?”
“It’s your birthday. I want you to have the best view in the house,” he explains.
My heart speeds up, and my eyes prickle with tears. I’m here. It’s not a dream anymore. It’s reality. Part of me believed the reason I held such a strong connection, such a fierce drive to be here, was because this was the place my mother “saved” me and that it happened on my birthday.
Now I know better.
It’s not my birthday. It’s the anniversary of the day I was taken and turned into something else.
That’s when I spot it. “I’m going to the restroom first,” I say in a low voice.
He nods as he becomes distracted again with his phone.
I glance around as I go, cataloging everyone I can.
I enter the bathroom I was taken from and walk over to the sink, glancing at both the entrance and exit that are on opposite sides.
My memory is coming back stronger. Things that were murky before are clearer now.
I called the woman I was with “Maman.” We were supposed to meet someone at the festival.
It’s why she took me here that night. She said there was a man who had a little girl, but he wasn’t her father.
She told me my father was a wonderful man who she loved more than anything.
He was dead, and she missed him terribly.
But the girl we were there to get, my sister, would help some of the heartache.
I stand here in the bathroom, the memories replaying like a movie.
My mother came and found me in here. She was crying as she hugged me, sobbing in relief.
That’s what she said. That she was so relieved she found me.
“You were taken from me, Genevieve. My girl. You were supposed to be mine, and she took you from me twice.”
She said something similar over text the other day. I have no clue what that all means or who she is since I don’t know the woman’s name other than Maman.
“Madam, are you all right?” a teenager asks in French, since I’m standing in front of the sink with my head down.
I clear away the memories and force a smile. “Yes. Sorry. Lost in thought.”
I leave through the way I came and stop when I see Ferrin on his phone with his back to me.
Something about him, his posture, or the way he’s holding his phone.
I don’t know what it is, but something is making the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
I move closer, my steps light, until I can hear him over the festival noise.
“I thought the plan was to meet after the festival was over.” He makes a noise and shifts his weight.
“No, that’s fine if that’s how it has to be.
Yes, I can get her there by then. I know.
I understand.” He wipes at his forehead with the hand not holding the phone.
“Five-hundred-thousand-euro reward? Shit. Okay. Um.” He releases a breath and listens some more.
“No, I uh, I spoke to the prince about that. He should be there when I bring her.”
He shifts again and turns his head over his shoulder as if he’s watching to see when I’ll return, and our eyes lock. A frown tugs down his lips, and he twists all the way around until we’re facing each other. He takes two steps in my direction.
“That’s fine. We’ll see you there.”
He disconnects the call and slips his phone into his pocket.
“Who was that?” I ask, though I think I may already know.
“The prince’s head of security.”
“You called them?”
“Yes.”
Yes. That’s it. No explanation.
Betrayal slices through me. He was going to deliver me to the royal family, whether I was ready for that or not, and collect his reward.
That’s why he stayed or possibly even why he came back for me.
Why he killed Lars and took care of me. That night in the hotel room and last night on the beach…
All his perfect social engineering that I can’t seem to stop falling for.
All this time, I was his pawn, and he played me so well.
“I suppose you wanted to make sure you got laid first. Had to get me to trust you or you’d never have gotten me here with you, right? So happy you’ll get your reward for me. All your hard work, you deserve it.”
He winces but doesn’t deny it.
“You’re worse than all of them.” I rear back and punch him in the gut. I hope it hurts as much as the sucker punch he landed on me. With that, I take off, leaving Ferrin Morgan behind.