Chapter 40 Bear the Load #2
He nodded, a smile filling his face before he turned away, pouring the pasta out into a colander, then serving it out into three bowls, covering it with a generous helping of Bolognese sauce.
“So, when are we leaving?”
“If I say tomorrow, will that worry you?”
I shook my head emphatically, inhaling the smell of Spaghetti Bolognese, my mouth watering.
“So … I’m guessing Kat knows that we’re married. But you’re not going to tell her that we’re leaving the country?”
I shoved a forkful of the food into my mouth, unable to stifle a moan as the deliciousness hit my tongue. “O Doamne! You’re such a good cook!”
“Ri …” he admonished gently.
I sighed. “Why worry her? She’s so busy. Her show’s about to open, and then there is the stuff with her parents, and her boyfriend.”
“But why lie?” Henry insisted, confusion knitting his brow. “She knows about us now, why not just tell her that we’re heading out of the country?”
“Because she’s already overloaded with her own shit. I’m not heaping my mess on top of it.”
Henry’s lips pursed, but he masked his reaction by forking spaghetti into his mouth. He chewed, eyes on my lips, and when he swallowed, he asked, “When people care about you, we want to bear the load with you.”
I stuffed another huge mouthful in. It was the only way to stop myself from saying something stupid, and romance-y, and utterly humiliating.
Lucian collapsed onto the stool beside me, thankfully stopping that conversation in its tracks. “Felix is lucky I didn’t fire him on the spot,” he grouched as Henry placed a bowl in front of him.
“It wasn’t his fault!” I protested. “It’s not like he would have known those two police officers from a bar of soap!”
“Except he failed to immediately report that Cockerels Cap arrived five minutes before the police. When they went inside, he waved at Felix before strolling off.”
I almost choked on a mouthful of spaghetti.
Henry put his fork down. “He knew they were coming.” It wasn’t a question, and there was a hardness in Henry’s voice that I wasn’t used to.
Lucian nodded. “It appears so. Felix didn’t think much of it, because the police didn’t have any interaction with Cockerels Cap, but …” He scowled down at his plate. “I can’t blame him, because I was the one who agreed to your hare-brained scheme to let an inexperienced staffer manage you.”
I glared at him. “Manage me? Like I’m a project?”
“Like you’re a problem,” Lucian snarled.
“That’s enough!” Henry growled, and I blinked guiltily in his direction, but his ire was directed very firmly at Lucian. “Ri is not a problem, and you will not speak to her that way again.”
Lucian sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Shit. You’re right. I’m sorry, Ri, I’m just … fuck, it’s frustrating! I feel like this Cockerels Cap guy is playing games with us, and I’m sure I’m missing something important.”
My stomach twisted and I set my fork down, my appetite gone.
“Well, lucky Ri and I are setting sail tomorrow. You’ll have plenty of time to investigate without the added stress of ‘managing’ Ri.” Henry’s voice was low, and there was a level of coldness in it that made me shiver.
Lucian froze. “Are you saying … you want me to stay in Sydney?”
Henry twirled his fork in his pasta. “That is exactly what I’m saying. We won’t need protection while we’re at sea, and if you’re worried about Cockerels Cap, now’s the time to get to the bottom of it.”
He slid the forkful into his mouth and chewed, before adding, “I’ll have Liv organise accommodation for you while we’re gone.”
“And how long do you think that will be?” Lucian asked, his face pale, his lips a thin line.
Henry picked up his empty bowl and took it to the sink. “As long as it takes to ensure that Ri is safe when we return.”
I was starting to wonder if that was ever going to be possible.
The Sydney shoreline was shrinking with every moment, and ahead of us was nothing but calm seas. The sun was a golden disc in the azure sky, and despite the crisp ocean breeze, I basked in its mellow, autumn warmth.
“Fuck, I love Australia,” I mumbled to myself, leaning on the railing and staring out at the endless miles of ocean.
“Technically, we’re leaving Australia.”
I turned, finding Henry a few feet away. He looked younger as his hair ruffled in the tailwind.
“How far until we’ve officially left?” I asked, scooping my blustering hair out of my face and tying it into a low ponytail. He moved closer, coming to stand beside me as the yacht flew over the water.
“Josie said it would take about two hours. We have to travel up the coast a bit to avoid shipping lanes before we can head further out.”
“And what’s the plan, then?”
Tension crept across Henry’s face. “The plan is that I’ve handed your case over to a qualified immigration lawyer, and I’ve told her that I’ll throw as much money at it as is needed to expedite an approved visa.
” He took off his glasses and polished the sea spray off them with the hem of his T-shirt.
“I should have done that from the start, but I was … disinclined to involve a legal team when so much about what we’ve done this far has been less than above board. ”
“Why now then?”
He returned his glasses to his face and fixed me with that intense green stare. “Because keeping you safe is more important now … especially with Lucian’s worries about Cockerels Cap.”
My stomach swooped at the mention of the man. Despite knowing he’d had dealings with Rumi, I felt like he had some other reason for tailing me. We didn’t know Rumi was paying him. What if …
I gasped. “What if he was paying Rumi for information?”
Henry’s brow furrowed. “What makes you—”
“I don’t know, but we just assumed that she had shown up to pay him for information on me. What if it was the other way around? What if he’d contacted her to ask questions about me?”
“It seems far-fetched, given everything else Rumi has done,” Henry murmured. “But perhaps it would be worthwhile mentioning it to Lucian, so he can investigate further.”
I turned back to the ocean as Henry tapped a message out on his phone and then stashed it back in his pocket.
“Do you think I’ll ever get to stop worrying about this?” I asked softly.
Henry’s warmth pressed against my side, his arm coming around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. “That’s the endgame, Catnip.”
I chanced a glance at his profile, marvelling at the line of his nose, the dark stubble on his jaw. Maybe once my endgame had been to be able to live worry-free, in Australia.
But now …
Now it was starting to feel like I’d never reach my endgame unless it was with a certain curly-haired tech geek in slutty little glasses in tow.
Pizd?.