Chapter Five
Tulya
The delicious Florida heat licked at my exposed midriff as I relished a glass of red wine, all by my lonesome on my balcony.
We were staying in one of the hotels Donovan’s family invested in, and while I was annoyed to be sharing a suite with him, I did have my own bedroom complete with a small wet bar.
I’d be taking full advantage of that feature—avoiding the one in the main sitting room as much as possible.
When we’d arrived this morning, there was a car waiting for Donovan to whisk us away…
except he wanted to head straight to Valerie’s house or some of her hangouts and look for the woman causing all the ruckus.
He assumed Magnum had warned Valerie, which in and of itself was a violation—telling a human about our powers and how we planned to use them.
I too assumed Magnum had shared this private information, and if I guessed correctly, he did the deed long ago.
Our ultimate advantage was our human likeness.
Outing our capabilities and the existence of Rubia was frowned upon.
Actually, it was forbidden by the Minister and all previous generations.
We blended among “regular people,” and we allowed those around us to assume we were the same, unless we were on our own island.
The thought of it caused my heart to pound.
It wasn’t often that we used our magic on humans.
Mostly, the magic was reserved for Rubians.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was scared to death over this assignment.
Everything about it—spending time with Donovan, hurting a human woman I’d never met, and failing Mama.
Especially the latter. As much as my mother annoyed me, pleasing her was the only way to have peace in our home, and while many Rubians moved out and on from their “Houses,” in ours it was only by excommunication.
It happened by literally burning someone’s belongings to the ground, and I didn’t want to be the black sheep in that way.
My phone buzzed and I knew better than to ignore it. After all, it could be Mama.
Checking the screen, I noted it was Caro and blew out a sigh of relief. While we’d had our differences, I knew she loved me. She’d come to say good-bye to me late last night as I packed. I might have always been jealous of her ability to please Mama, but we were close.
I picked up. “Car—”
“Turn your phone off,” she warned. “Let it go right to voicemail as soon as we hang up.”
I didn’t have to ask why. Ezza was not only the Minister’s sister, but she was next in line should anything happen to him or if he decided to retire (which was unlikely).
My mother had spent her life trying to live up to her father’s legacy of being the biggest, baddest, boldest Rubian there ever was.
Under him, Rubia prospered, procreated, and glowed in its glory era.
I believed my mother both feared and revered the Minister position.
She would be the first woman to hold it if she ever did, and therefore, she’d spent her life living and breathing Rubian policy.
She was going to follow every rule, and make sure everyone else did too.
Gathering myself, I asked Caro, “He reported back, didn’t he? Gawd, Donovan. Am I not allowed a few moments of peace and solitude in the warm weather?”
I took in the ocean not too far off in the distance, lapping at the shoreline, and inhaled the sea breeze. All I’d asked for was one afternoon of this…and Donovan had acquiesced without my having to beg or bat my eyelashes at him, so I didn’t think he’d rat me out. But of course he did.
“He mentioned to his mom that you didn’t go looking for her—the evil seductress as they call her—right away. Mama is on a war path, and there is only so much I can do. She was on a call with the Minister, and you’re probably next. I tried to spread some gentleness on her edges, I promise.”
Caro’s magic allowed her to bestow tranquility on someone.
At times, she’d calmed someone so much they’d fallen asleep, but her capabilities didn’t go far with Mama.
Our mother was able to shield certain people out, and Caro was one of them.
Maybe that was why Caro was the favorite child; she could only be a pawn in my mother’s game.
“She’s going to chew you out.” My sister stated what I already knew. But Caro didn’t always do Mama’s bidding; occasionally, she stood up for me.
“All I wanted was some time to enjoy this moment. The weather, blue sky, a few seconds of freedom. We don’t know how it will end. I’ve never done this before.”
“I know,” she whispered. Then, “Believe in yourself, and turn off your phone” was all she said before disconnecting the call.
Doing as she demanded, I’d followed up with a whopping swig of vino when a knock sounded behind me.
“Dinner?” Donovan stood in the doorjamb in jeans and a polo shirt, the single word coming out as a question.
I lifted my wine to my lips and took a sip.
“Or are you having a liquid diet?”
It was clear he didn’t like my silence, but I was having a quick second to take in the man in front of me. I might be furious with him, but he continued to be equal parts forbidden and enticing.
“Tulya? Hello? Do you want to eat?” His voice was all grumbly and irritated.
It should have pricked at my nerves, but it only ratcheted my pulse in a good way. I liked being able to affect the great Donovan. With my free hand, I ran my hand under my now wavy hair. It felt glorious to let it down, allowing the saltiness in the air to mingle with the fine strands.
“It’s not even sunset” was my answer.
He took a step closer and seemed to inhale me before barking, “We have an early morning.”
It was clear I was working on borrowed time. “Apparently they already know our every step, or misstep, back home.”
“I’m not here on vacation,” he grumbled.
“Neither am I.”
“Are you hungry?”
We were in a standstill, staring one another down, and I didn’t want to be the first to break…but I couldn’t help myself. If there was anyone who could get me to do their bidding, it was this hot asshole.
“Dinner,” I simply stated before gulping back a little more Cabernet.
“Let’s go,” was all he offered up, turning toward the living room of our suite.
“Here? Or somewhere else?” I inquired from behind him.
He pivoted, taking me in. “You don’t need a real shirt if that’s what you’re asking.”
Hmmm, he noticed my half shirt… “Okey-dokey.” I played along with his coy attitude.
Snatching a blazer off the chair, I tossed back the remainder of my wine and hit the main room.
“Let’s go!” I shouted, the liquor coursing through my frazzled veins.
Donovan held the door open, waiting for me to exit, and we walked toward the elevators, his hand coming to rest on my lower back, navigating me. And chilling me to the bone.
“You okay?” he asked, stopping short.
“Yes, fine. Why?” I didn’t dare look at him, keeping my gaze ahead.
“Because you just shivered.”
“It’s fine.”
“Tulya, a cracker is fine. A salt and vinegar potato chip is fabulous. There is a lot of distance between the two. What is wrong? Are you nervous?”
He used his hand to nudge me to face him, quickly dropping his fingers from my shoulder. I didn’t know how he did it—went from laissez-faire to bossy to caring in milliseconds.
“I’m seriously great. We need to eat and get to sleep so we can get on with it.” I plastered a smile on my face, hoping Donovan refrained from any more small touches, preventing me from having to explain what he did to me…
We walked through the lobby, and I took in all the couples in love and vacationers here for a good time and wished my mission was different.
“Want to walk?” Donovan asked me when we stepped outside. “I thought we would go for sushi, and it’s not far.”
I felt myself nodding, thinking I loved sushi and Florida, and maybe even small parts of today.
We strode side by side on the sidewalk for two blocks in quiet, a fusion of both good and bad tension tethering us.
“Here.” Donovan finally spoke when we stood in front of a neighboring hotel.
“The rooftop is spectacular, and I know you wanted to have a respite. For one day,” he said, holding the door open.
He uttered the thoughtful words quietly and only for me, and I wanted to grovel for him to put his hand back on my lower spine.
We rode up the elevator, and as soon as the doors opened, my mouth fell.
“It’s gorgeous,” I muttered, taking in my surroundings.
Wooden canopies draped in flowers and leaves covered the entire rooftop, petite booths and tables with gauzy tablecloths filling in the space below them.
I could see tiny tea lights spread throughout the space, twinkling despite the sun still being in the sky.
“I thought you might like it.” Donovan guided me with his palm on my back toward the hostess, and I willed the chills to stay away.
Soft holiday music filled the area even though there wasn’t any snow to be found on South Beach.
“Malachite for two.” Don spoke authoritatively, and the young brunette hostess nodded.
She found our name and said, “Right this way.”
Sadly, my back was suffering the loss of Donovan’s hand.
The hostess went to pull out my seat, but Donovan beat her to it and sent her away with a hushed, “Thank you.”
“This is really…I don’t know, splendid? Is that the right word?” I said, looking around in wonderment.
“It’s a small piece of heaven,” Donovan agreed.
My head whipped around and my gaze found his. “You’re a softie, Mr. Malachite? A lover of paradise?”
He opened his mouth to reply but the server appeared, stealing our moment and asking us if we wanted still or sparkling water.
Donovan looked at me, and I said, “Sparkling.”
“Anything else to drink?” The server turned to me first.
“Cabernet?”
“We have that,” he answered my one word.
“Espolon, neat,” Donovan stated.
“Right away,” our server replied and was off.
“I shouldn’t say this,” Donovan started, all grumbly, staring at me.
All of a sudden I felt self-conscious and wanted to yank my half shirt down, wishing it to grow on its own.
“Stop,” he interrupted himself. “You look perfect.”
I wondered if he could read minds…
“No, I can’t, but your face is an open book at the moment.”
I redirected him back to his thought. “What shouldn’t you say?”
The server had been pouring our sparkling water while we discussed this, and Donovan took his time, enjoying a sip. “I like paradise as much as the next person, but I think I may be a lover of making you happy. I’ve tried not to indulge in the idea, but it keeps coming to the forefront of my mind.”
A wineglass slid in front of me and I was grateful for a gulp of liquid courage, unable to peel my eyes off Donovan. His green eyes were sparkling, his hair forming small waves in the humidity. “Why shouldn’t you say that?”
He put his hand on the table, a gold Rolex shimmering between us. “Because it’s an occupational hazard.”
I swallowed back any pleasant thoughts or words. I was only a job to Donovan, no matter what he said otherwise. “Then we should eat and get after what we came to do.”
I didn’t know what I was thinking, dredging up silly schoolgirl crushes on Donovan, or even wishing for one or two grown-up days with him.
The task at hand had to be done or my mother would be out for my neck, even though I wasn’t sure how my body would take the exchange of feelings.
But let’s be honest, no one really cared.
And certainly Donovan didn’t mean he loved making me happy.
No one was concerned with my joy. It was my job to make sure others didn’t feel pain. Period.