Chapter 9
9
“I forgot to tell you,” Elanie said, walking in step beside me back to our pods. “Raphael is on his way. He’ll arrive in an hour.”
Stumbling over a bit of nothing on the carpet, I said, “What?”
“You know, Raphael. Tall, dark, dreamy.” She made a show of studying her nails. “Your semi-annual ‘fuck buddy.’ He’ll be here for the Fire Ball.”
“Elanie,” I said, almost too stunned to reply. Almost . “I have never referred to anyone as a ‘fuck buddy’ in my entire life. And are you serious? How? How is he coming? I haven’t seen him on the itinerary.” My blood ran cold, which was absolutely upside down. Under normal circumstances, the news that Raphe would be on the ship would cause the exact opposite effect.
“He didn’t want me to list him. I told him he was being ridiculous, but he said he wanted to surprise you.”
“That’s…sweet,” I managed. I was surprised, all right. My right foot falling off would have surprised me less. Raphe was coming. He’d be here tonight. And instead of racing to my pod to decide which dress would make my tits shine or how I could steal twenty minutes alone with him before the ball, I was thinking about Freddie, my mind stubbornly tracing over his crooked nose, toying with the soft strands of his hair.
Raphe was gorgeous, easy, uncomplicated. A sure thing. And as a private lawyer to one of the largest and wealthiest of the Aquilinian Royal families, he was also extremely busy and could never stay on the ship longer than a day or two. I was under no illusions as to how much of his precious time he was spending on me tonight. Normally, this was a massive turn-on. But nothing about my life was normal right now.
Sighing, Elanie said, “Sure. Sweet. Whatever you say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I braced my hands on my hips.
“Honestly, Sunny,” she said. “I do my best to stay out of your love life. The way you choose partners is too much like throwing darts at a board blindfolded. It’s dangerous for any bystanders and occasionally leaves holes in the wall. No offense.”
That stung a bit. “What exactly is the point you’re trying to make here, Elanie?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “All these lovers. All these random encounters. It all seems so…futile.”
That stung a lot. “Futile, is it?” I snapped. “Do you know what’s futile? Refusing to install a recommended upgrade. That’s futile.”
“No need to get personal,” Elanie said, flinching like she’d flicked a trestal on its beak and was offended when it decided to peck her back. “I’m only stating the facts.”
When we reached my pod, I bowed to her. “Thank you for letting me know about Raphael.” Straightening, I slapped my hand on the security panel, then winked. “Gives me plenty of time to think about my life choices while I sharpen my darts.”
After a scalding shower and a few moments standing under the quikDri, I sat on the edge of my bed, twirling a longer strand of my hair around my finger. I’d accessed the ship’s manifest a few minutes ago to see that Raphe had already boarded. He always stayed on deck twenty-three, toward the bow of the ship—about as far from staff quarters as possible. He did this for me, for privacy. He was very thoughtful when it came to clandestine hookups.
And ooh , he was staying in the Afterglow suite. It was one of our most luxurious accommodations, boasting a fully automated bar, a jetted tub so wide you could swim in it, and a nullGrav pod—which might be interesting—and with the portside wall made entirely of flexGlass, the views from the suite were phenomenal.
All things considered, I knew I should be more excited than I was. I knew I should be throwing something on and running to the Afterglow suite before I had to report for duty. I knew I shouldn’t feel this conflicted. I needed to stop feeling this conflicted. There was nothing to feel conflicted about. Nothing had changed.
I sat up straighter, inspiration striking. Maybe Raphael’s visit was a good thing. Maybe the best way to reestablish my professional boundaries with Freddie was to reestablish my personal relationship with Raphe.
Standing from the bed, I walked to my closet, and—without even thinking—grabbed my favorite little black dress, pulled it on, and smoothed it over my hips. After spending an extra ten minutes on my makeup, I made my way to the Fire Ball.
The main deck ballroom was an inferno. Serving drones drifted through the air with trays so full of fiery cocktails they looked like they carried torches from table to table. Digital flames engulfed the room’s eight marble columns, crackling and popping as they climbed the pillars to lick at the rafters. Fire danced across the floor in some marvel of interactive lighting that submerged the entire room in a blazing river. Whenever a guest walked across the floor, the flames parted and reformed or slid up their legs to wrap around their thighs. It was stunning, enthralling. In the five years I’d known her, I’d never been so proud of Tig.
Suspended from the rafters, sixteen iridescent-skinned, long-limbed Ulaperian acrobats spun from metal rings or dangled from wide swaths of silk. They wore black contacts over their round, pearlescent eyes, which—while well suited for the darkness of their outer-rim planet—were far too sensitive for the lighting in the room. But the effect turned them into writhing, erotic fire demons.
I gasped as one of the acrobats released her silks, falling in a death drop all the way to the floor before catching herself with a foot hooked around the shimmering fabric. The trick drew everything from shocked screams to dog whistles to wild applause from the guests standing at the bar or seated at their tables.
The Fire Ball was a celebration specific to the Ignisar . Occurring between several planets’ major holidays and festivals—the Tranquis Yuletide, the Solstice of New Earth and Mars, Ulaperia’s Great Conjunction, and Blurvos’s Goo Fest—the Fire Ball exploited all of them, providing an excuse for the guests to eat too much, get shit-faced, and participate in nonstop debauchery until sunrise sim. Tonight, nothing was off-limits, nothing was taboo, hedonism ruled, and I had to remain a sober voyeur until they kicked everyone out.
I spied Elanie ducking behind the red velvet curtain at the far end of the ballroom, presumably to keep an eye on the wizards and their goat while they prepared for their magic show. I wanted to apologize for our argument, but after a few steps in her direction, Freddie waltzed into view, and I hit an invisible flexGlass wall.
He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I let myself notice him. He was devastating in a fitted black suit, crisp white shirt, slim black tie. His hair was impeccably styled. It mesmerized me, the way he moved fluidly through the ballroom, winding around tables and guests like a stream around its banks. He bent down to swipe an errant cocktail napkin from the floor, tucked it into his back pocket, then said, “Oop!” while spinning on his heel to snatch a saltshaker from a server before they accidentally placed it on a Blurvan’s table. Touching the server’s shoulder, he told them something—judging by their horrified expression, it was likely what salt does to a Blurvan’s gelatinous lower half.
“Sunny.” Lena Ramesh’s voice yanked my attention. “Come say hello.” She waved me over to the table where she, Sonia, and Sai sat sipping steaming bright-red beverages in tall glasses shaped like flames.
I was surprised they’d decided to bring the boy. But the Fire Ball didn’t typically go fully off the rails until well after sunset sim. So why not?
As I crossed the room toward their table, I stepped to the side just in time to keep Tig from bowling me over as she beelined back to the control booth with her hood up and her head down.
“Careful, Tig.”
Yanking down her hood, she said, “Sorry, Sunny. But I’m trying to get”—she pulled at her collar, her slightly bloodshot eyes darting around the room—“the fuck out of here.”
With a small laugh, I took Tig by her shoulders and squeezed. “The party is miraculous. The effects are amazing. Your best work yet. Tomorrow, I’m taking you for a spa day to celebrate. And a massage,” I said when Tig’s shoulders tensed. “I feel like I’m squeezing a bolt of lightning.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” she said with a nervy warble. “But I don’t really like spas. Or massages.”
“Hmm,” I considered. “I know. How about tea at the bistro on deck thirty? You, me, views of the cosmos?” I waggled my brows. “And pastries?”
Her eyes lit up. “That sounds perfect.”
“Then it’s a date,” I said, kissing her cheek before she skirted around the crowd, heading back to the safety of her control room.
Resuming my path through fire toward the Ramesh’s table, I scanned the expansive ballroom. I doubted Raphe would have arrived this early—he was likely sitting at the desk in his suite, poring over legal documents, his broad shoulders filling out his tailored shirt, his brows pressed together in concentration, a pen between his teeth, a hot cup of coffee steaming beside him. But he’d surprised me before. Like when he arrived today unannounced, for example.
I did want to see him. I was sure of it. Being with Raphael was like being with a world leader. He was strong, decisive, skilled. He knew what he wanted, was exceptionally easy to please, and was always quick to compliment. In short, he was a hospitality specialist’s wet dream. So, yes , I was excited to see him. Extremely excited. Because we made sense. Raphael and I made sense.
Who the hells needs seven orgasms in one night anyway?
“Hey, Sunny. This is so cool! Isn’t this so cool?” Sai’s high-pitched voice rang across the ballroom as I approached his table. Leaning over in his chair, he swiped his fingers through the digital flames that danced around his feet.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” I said, waving my hand to encompass the room. “One of my best friends made all of this.”
“Really?” Sai’s eyes ratcheted wide. “Can I meet them? I need to know how they did this. I have a million questions. Two million.”
“Of course you can meet her, Sai. I’ll set it up.”
The boy’s smile stretched from one ear to the other. “Awesome! Thanks, Sunny,” he said before he returned to playing with the fire.
Patting the seat beside her, Sonia met my stare and said, “Take a load off.”
I nodded my thanks and took the chair, partly because my feet had started to ache, but mainly because when the senator said jump, I had a feeling everyone within a light-year of her laced up their sneakers. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” I asked, and when Sonia ducked her chin, I leaned in close to tell her, “This ball tends to get a bit rowdy as the night goes on. You might consider?—”
Waving me off, Sonia said, “We are only staying for dinner and the show.”
“And a piece of that—what was it called?” Lena asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Warple cake?”
Angling my head toward the back of the room, I said, “I spotted some on the table in the corner. But promise me you’ll wait until you’re back in your suite before you eat any.”
Sonia leaned in close and said, “Of course.” Then she stopped my heart mid-beat with “I heard a rumor that LunaCorp is bringing Kravaxians onto the ship before we reach Portis.”
Trying and failing to keep my shock in check, I stammered, “W-where did you hear that?”
“I have my sources. Is this true?”
It wasn’t necessarily classified information, but I was well aware of the fact that I should neither confirm nor deny the rumor of FFK visitation. If word got out too soon, there could be panic, chaos, a security nightmare that would make fungus rat–era Rax and Morgath seem like characters from a children’s story.
“I’m not really sure if?—”
“Do not lie to me, Sunastara.” The senator’s voice had gone cold, as had the blood in my veins. The woman was intimidation incarnate.
Realizing I was not getting out of this situation without admitting something, I weighed my options. I could lie, but the senator would know it and only become more suspicious. If I told the truth… Oh, who was I kidding? She already knew the truth. This was a test of allegiance, if nothing else.
My only true allegiance was to this ship and my crew, but I highly doubted the senator would want to start a riot on the ship her family was currently staying on by spreading gossip. So, with some hesitation, I admitted, “Only four. But they’re…special Kravaxians.”
The senator raised a brow while Lena distracted Sai by asking him how he thought the Ulaperian silk dancers learned their tricks .
“They’ll be here purely on LunaCorp business,” I added. “And they have been thoroughly vetted.”
“Thoroughly,” Sonia repeated, leaning back in her chair, her tone suggesting that they might as well have attempted to thoroughly vet a Kuiper worm. “I see.”
“You don’t approve,” I surmised.
“Of Kravaxians cohabitating in an enclosed space with civilians? No, Sunny. I do not approve.”
When something terrible happened, I knew more than most how tempting it was to search for a reason, for a pattern in the chaos, for some sort of magical meaning to justify the unending wrongness of things. I’d tried for years until I finally learned the truth. There were no reasons. There was no meaning. And there were no coincidences. Coincidences like a prominent KU senator being on my ship at the same time as corporate-sanctioned space pirates.
“Why are you on the Ignisar ?” I asked, cutting to the chase perhaps a bit too sharply. But I had to know. “We don’t typically have politicos, let alone their families, traveling with us. At least not publicly. And Portis is far away for a simple?—”
“That is a question for another time.” Clearing her throat, Sonia returned her attention to her drink, and I knew the conversation was over.
“How late does the Fire Ball usually last?” Sai asked, breaking the meter-thick tension that had slammed down around the table.
Giving him a smile, I said, “Believe it or not, Sai, this room will still be buzzing at sunrise sim.”
His mouth popped open. “The entire night?”
“Not for you, young man,” Lena said, ruffling his hair.
Sai frowned, clearly not happy with his curfew, then he sipped his drink from a swirling straw .
Clasping her hands on the table with an abrupt thump —a move that no doubt served her well in senate meetings—Sonia said, “Thank you for stopping by, Sunny. But I’m sure you have work to get back to.”
Not missing the dismissal, and, yes , having plenty of work to get back to, I stood from my chair, smoothed my dress back into place, and said, “Of course. I hope you’ll all have a wonderful evening.”
“You as well,” Sonia said, not bothering to look up at me.
It chafed a little. I understood the senator’s concerns about the Kravaxians. I shared them. But it wasn’t like the FFK visitation had been my idea. I was only doing my job.
I was about to spin on my heel and walk away when Lena snatched my hand, pulled me close, and said, “Don’t mind Sonia. She gets like this when she’s worried.”
I tried to give Lena a polite nod, but when she added, “You look gorgeous tonight. That is such a perfect little black dress. Where’d you get it?” the floor vanished beneath my feet.
I hadn’t realized, but, stars save me , I was wearing the dress. The dress. The same dress I’d worn on the CAK the night I’d first met him. The same dress he’d peeled off my body inch by inch, covering each bit of my exposed skin with his hands and lips and tongue. The same dress I’d worn when I’d been Phoebe and he’d been Joshua.
“Sunny?” Concern laced Lena’s expression. “You’ve gone white as a sheet. Are you all right?”
What was wrong with me? How could I have worn this dress? How could I not have noticed? Had he noticed? No. No, he wouldn’t have. He was a man, after all. They rarely remembered things like what dress a woman wore. It was fine. Everything was fine.
“I’m fine,” I said with a brittle, forced laugh. I just have to go change before my life implodes. “Only a few bites of the warple cake,” I warned, backing away from the table. “Too much, and the effects can be very…” Turning around carefully, I scanned the ballroom, trying to spot him without being obvious, without him noticing me, without my thoughtless outfit choice being too “…consequential.”
It was too late. He saw me. He wasn’t more than twenty feet away, sitting at a table of Argosians, staring at me. And judging by his expression, his wide eyes, his parted lips, the hand rising to his chest, he knew. He remembered.
My heart tripped over itself. Because the way he looked at me, the sheer intensity? Did he think the dress meant something? Did I think the dress meant something? Was it all random bad luck? Or was it some unconscious corner of my mind insinuating itself into my personal life against my will?
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
He stood from his table. I stepped away from mine. Then he tilted his head toward a hallway leading from the main ballroom and started walking.
I didn’t know what to do. I was paralyzed, my breath burning my throat, fire searing my chest, scorching my lungs. At least my panic was staying true to theme.
But once he disappeared from sight, a funny thing happened. My feet moved, carrying me toward him, to where he waited for me at the end of the dark, quiet hallway, leaning back against the wall, his face angled up to the ceiling.
“Freddie,” I said, surprised my voice still worked. “I can explain.”
Wheeling around, he strode toward me in bold, breath-stealing strides and didn’t stop until he was so close I felt him everywhere. “You’re wearing the dress. Her dress,” he said in a harsh, almost pained whisper. “Sunny, why are you wearing her dress? Are you trying to torture me?” His mouth hovered inches from mine, his hand landing on the wall beside my head. “Because it’s working.” He licked his lips. “I am tortured.”
His other hand hit the wall beside my hip, his hair brushing my forehead, and my heart thundered so hard and fast against my ribs I was sure he saw it through my dress, maybe even heard it. Maybe the entire room heard it. I was panting, lightheaded, confused, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the ball or the dress or the voice in my head screaming at me to push him away. I didn’t care.
He invaded my senses, enveloping me until he was all I could see or feel or breathe. My knees buckled, and I couldn’t fight it anymore. I had never wanted another being the way I wanted him. Like I really was on fire, and he was the only drop of water in the entire star system. I wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him so desperately it was an ache in my bones. I wanted his lips on mine, his hands on my body. I wanted to wake up with the sweet taste of him still on my tongue, the smell of him on my skin, the memory of him inside me. But as his head angled, his lips lining up with mine, so close I felt their softness in some magic stronger than anything the wizards could produce, reality crashed into me.
I shouldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this. The job was one thing, but there was so much more. He was not some one-night stand anymore. He was in my life, all day, every day. If I gave in to this wanting, he would eventually want things from me in return. Things I couldn’t give him. He wasn’t casual. He wasn’t no-strings-attached material. He was the kind of man who’d want to be as close as possible, and he’d end up resenting me because I’d only ever push him away. He deserved better. He deserved better than a broken woman who only knew how to run the second shit got real. Because that’s what I did. I ran. I hid. It was what I was good at. It was what I needed to do now. Maybe I was being a coward, but I’d had enough pain in my life already.
With Herculean effort, I pulled my hands—which had somehow found their way to his hips—back to my sides. Then I pressed my palm against his chest and pushed.
“Sunny?” He looked down at my hand. “Don’t?—”
“I didn’t mean to wear this dress,” I admitted. “It was a mistake. I…I didn’t realize.”
“A mistake?” he repeated, breathless.
“I’m going back to my pod to change. Right now. I didn’t mean it.”
“Please.” His hand slid over mine where it still pressed into his chest. “Please don’t push me away.”
But couldn’t he see? Didn’t he know? That was all I’d ever do.
He touched his forehead to mine, his breath warm on my lips. “Why can’t we try? I wish we could try. I know you think it will be hard or scary or jeopardize our jobs. But I don’t think it would. I think it could work. Please, Sunny. You’re all I want.”
I had to leave, to run. Otherwise, he would try to kiss me again, and if he did, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to stop him a second time. I had to shut this down. I had to make him see how terrible I’d be for him. I had to stop all this wanting, because wanting something, no matter how badly, was never enough. It never worked.
While my stomach sank like a stone and my throat closed like a fist, I said the only thing that would make him stop, make him leave. “Freddie, a man is here to see me. A man I have a history with. I’ll”—I fought through an excruciating swallow—“be with him tonight.”
After that, there was nothing left but an empty, unforgiving cold as he stepped back, pulling the warmth of his body away from mine. With an unreadable expression, he slid his hands into his pockets, closed his eyes, and said, “I understand.”
Dropping my hand from his chest, and with a horrible tremor in my voice, I said, “I’m so sorry.” Then, like the coward I was, I ran.