“What do you say we take a break for lunch today?” Linc suggested.
“Do we have time?”
He smiled. “With you doing half my work, I wonder if I might have my hours and salary cut.”
“Ha, ha.” I spent the majority of my time reading. Sometimes it was manuscripts, but I usually took those home with me at night. The rest of the time, it was marketing and financial reports. Little by little, I was learning about every genre of book we published and what the profit margins were within each.
Art books, the category in which my father’s books fell, was the least profitable of all. However, it was a market segment we’d never pull back from. The board believed it was important we continue to bring art to the masses in any way we could.
My reading preference had always been and remained fiction. Mystery and suspense more than any other genre, so I was thrilled when I was able to take home a manuscript that had been sent up for consideration. I stared longingly at the one I had sitting on my desk, but a girl had to eat too.
“Sure, lunch sounds great.” I sent a text to Teagon to let her know to tell whoever was on my detail this afternoon that I’d be going out.
“Where to?” I asked when we left the building.
“How’s Greek sound?”
“Brilliant.”
“Shall we walk?”
“Equally brilliant.” We hadn’t gotten very far when who should I see but Cortez, running toward us? I veered off the path, stood next to a tree, and turned my back.
“Kensington? Is everything okay?”
“Yes…um…fine.” Gawd, why couldn’t I think of a single reason why I’d suddenly taken an abrupt and ridiculous turn into the woods?
Linc walked around me so he faced me. “Do you want to explain?”
“No.”
He looked over my shoulder. “Is the man you’re avoiding about my height, bald?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’m afraid we’re going to be here quite a while.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s standing on the path, hands on hips, doing what I can only assume is waiting for you.” Linc cleared his throat. “Correction, he’s coming this way.”
“Would you mind excusing us?” I heard Cortez say.
When Linc looked into my eyes questioningly, I nodded.
“I’ll just be out…you know…there.” He waved his hand in the direction of the path.
“Kensington?”
“What?” I said without turning around.
“Would you please look at me?”
“No.”
“What you’re doing now isn’t safe.”
I spun around and folded my arms. “Why are you in London?”
“I have a home in London.”
“Nowhere near as nice as your home in Mallorca.”
He raised a brow.
“Nothing is as nice as that house.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
Being this close to him was hell. Absolute hell. I longed to wrap my arms around him like I used to, have him run his fingers through my hair, and kiss me.
“Kensington.”
“Please, I beg you, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know exactly what I’m thinking.”
His eyes softened. “It makes it very difficult for your security team to keep you safe when you run into the woods.”
“What do you know of my security team?”
“Your safety will always be important to me, Kensington.” He looked over his shoulder. “Are you seeing him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He nodded and slowly closed his eyes and then opened them. I could feel his pain as well as my own.
“That’s Lincoln Mulrooney, managing director of Whitby Press and my boss, of sorts.”
Cortez smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
I couldn’t read the look on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” I walked out to the pathway and over to Linc. “You might want to head on without me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sorry about lunch. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Old friend.”
Once Linc left, I turned back toward Cortez. “I’m not seeing him. I’m working at Whitby Press.”
He motioned to a nearby bench. “I saw you with him at Five Hertford.”
“I saw you too,” I spat.
“With my cousin Serena. She’s going through a divorce and wanted me to use some of my skills to make her soon-to-be-ex husband’s life a living hell.”
I laughed. “Was it a coincidence that you were there?”
“No.”
I was back to being annoyed with him. “Who told you?”
“I get briefings.”
“From?”
“You’re not going to like the answer.”
“Teagon?” I gasped.
“No. Not exactly.”
“One of the other guys?”
“I’m copied on the reports that go to Z.”
“Is Teagon aware of this?” Now I was pissed.
“She is not, and that was Z’s decision.”
“She’ll be as furious as I am.”
“It will continue to happen whether she’s aware of it or not.”
Something occurred to me. “How often do you get these reports?”
“Sometimes twice a day, why?”
“Is that why you’re here now? You knew Linc and I were going to lunch?”
“No. That was an honest coincidence. I did plan to contact you today, though.”
I folded my arms and looked away from him. “Why?”
“I have to go out of town.”
His words pained me. Why should I know whether he was in or out of town? When he put his hand on my arm, I jerked it away.
“I realize you got approval from the Queen before returning to London. I have little recourse in that regard if I want to remain in her good graces. However, if it had been up to me, you would still be on Mallorca.”
“And you would be here in London?”
“Not necessarily, no.”
My head began to ache. Had I made a terrible mistake by leaving too soon? I turned back toward him. “Do not read my thoughts!”
He smiled. “I’ve told you time and again that it doesn’t always work that way, Kensington. Especially if you don’t want me to know what you’re thinking.”
“What if I’m too late, and I think it before I realize I don’t want you to know?”
He leaned into me so our arms were touching. It made me want to crawl into his lap and kiss him.
“You know what it’s like when your emotions are moving faster than your thoughts. It’s the same for me. You affect me as much as I do you, my darling. I cannot always think clearly in your presence.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry. There are times I can’t help it.”
“Why would I still be on Mallorca?”
He sighed. “Because I’m not certain Konstantine has been effectively neutralized.”
“Is that the only reason?”
He grasped my hand, and this time, I didn’t jerk it away. “I care very much for you, Kensington. So much so, that I would break my own heart first rather than allow you to live a life that would ultimately make you unhappy.”
“Being with you wouldn’t make me unhappy.”
“Maybe not right away. Eventually, you would be, though.”
“How can you be so certain? Can you also see into the future?”
“I am far older than you, my dear. I am set in my ways. I travel for work far too often.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not that old, Cortez.”
“Perhaps not in years, but in spirit.”
“I’m not the right woman for you.”
“What makes you say it that way?”
<
br /> “You’d do anything for the right woman. If you loved her and wanted her in your life, you’d do anything to make it happen.” While the pain didn’t lessen, the realization that it was as simple as that, seemed to help me accept that Cortez and I would never be together. I removed my hand from his. “Where are you going? Can you say?”
His eyes scrunched, perhaps at my abrupt change of subject. “To Italy. Grinder is getting married.”
“That’s wonderful. Please give him my regards for much happiness.” I stood, suddenly famished. “I must get back to work.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“Is that really necessary?” I looked around the park. “I can’t see them, but I’m sure my guard dogs are in close proximity.”
“Allow me to anyway?”
I shook my head. “It’s best if you don’t. I understand, Cortez, I truly do. But my heart hasn’t quite caught up with my head just yet.”
When I returned to the office, Linc wasn’t there, but on my desk sat a Greek salad and grilled pita bread. It was exactly what I would have ordered.
I wasn’t ready to think about getting involved with another man, and for now, Linc and I worked together. In the long run, being romantically involved might make things very awkward. However, when I was ready to move on, he was just the kind of man I’d do it with.
30
Rile
Between the time I said goodbye to Kensington and left Hyde Park, and this morning, I’d been filled with a sense of dread. Perhaps it was the finality I felt when she and I said goodbye.
Kensington was wrong. She was the right woman. I loved her, and like Celestina, I’d love her until the day I died. Because of that love, I couldn’t ask her to give up so much of her life for me.
She looked different to me yesterday. Fulfilled, I suppose. She’d taken her life by the reins and was living it. It was what I’d wanted for her, and London was the perfect place for her to do it. Eventually, once I was certain Konstantine was no longer a threat, I would return to Mallorca. Maybe I’d even sell my London flat. I could easily stay in one of MI6’s apartments if Z hired the Invincibles for a mission necessitating my being here. I could also stay in a hotel.
Rather than focusing on my sorrow and unease, I needed to direct my thoughts to Grinder and Pia. I rang my driver and grabbed my bag. Once at the airfield, my flight to Florence would take a little over an hour.
The small chapel on the grounds of Antica Cascina dei Conti di Valentini, the estate and winery that had been in the family of Grinder’s soon-to-be wife for generations, was filled to capacity. Love reverberated from its walls and through every person seated in it.
“How are you, my friend?” I asked, putting my hand on Grinder’s shoulder.
“Never better.”
“You deserve this and every happiness,” I said, brushing a tear away. Was it for that happiness that I was crying, or was it because I’d never know it to this extent again?
When the music began to play, I looked to the back of the chapel and watched the two bridesmaids walk to where we stood. The music changed, those in the pews stood, and Grinder’s fiancée, Pia, began her walk toward us. Although, she didn’t walk at all. She danced her way down the aisle. Love and happiness seeped from her every pore, and her eyes stayed fixed on those of my friend.
I couldn’t help but think of Kensington and the joy I wouldn’t be there to witness on the day she wed. As hard as I tried to keep my focus on the man and woman about to be married, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Instead of thinking about Celestina and the way she’d looked on our wedding day, I could only see Kensington in my mind. What she’d wear. The flowers she’d carry. Even where she would be married. It felt like a knife in my chest when I realized what I was picturing was the tiny chapel on my own estate on Mallorca.
The harder I tried to close my mind to the images flashing before it, the faster they came. Not just the wedding, but the birth of Kensington’s first child, of her holding the tiny boy in her arms and beaming up at the father. Then of her playing in the sand on the steps below my house, with her children. She had four, just like she’d said. Why was my own mind torturing me this way?
I could hear the words of the priest as he led Grinder and Pia through their vows, but it was as if my ears were stuffed with cotton. The only words I could hear clearly were those spoken by Kensington in my imagination. I could hear her talking to her children, telling them how much she and their daddy loved them.
When I heard the priest ask us to bow our heads in prayer, I didn’t pray along with him. I prayed to God to please stop torturing me this way. I wanted nothing more than to be joyous for my friend and his wife, not mired down in my own unhappiness.
God refused to answer my prayers. For the rest of the night, I was plagued by visions of Kensington. No matter how hard I tried to distract myself in conversation with the other wedding guests, a reel of Kensington’s life without me continued to play in the back of my mind.
“Is everything okay?” Grinder asked shortly before it was time for the couple to depart the reception.
“Never better, my friend. My heart overflows with happiness for you.”
Pia came and stood beside him, wrapping her arm through his. “Thank you, Rile,” she said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. “Thank you for making sure he found his way back to me.”
“The two of you were always meant to be together, sweet Pia.”
“I hope you find that too,” she said.
I bid them goodnight, and once they’d said their long goodbyes to their other guests and were gone, I drove back to Florence and spent the night in a hotel close to the airfield.
My dreams, like every minute at the wedding, were filled with Kensington at every stage of her life without me. I woke with tears streaming down my cheeks, wondering if I would be cursed by the madness of not being able to escape witnessing her happiness from afar.
When I woke the next morning, the visions were gone. In their place, I felt Celestina. She didn’t speak to me, but I could feel her calming presence.
When I boarded my plane an hour later, I suddenly felt a chill. Celestina? Please don’t leave me, I begged.
“Cortez, my love…”
Don’t go, I begged again. I feared that without her, the visions of Kensington would return. I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It would be easier to allow the pain of missing my beloved wife to claw its way back into my soul. That pain I knew. I was accustomed to it. It wasn’t new and raw like that which had entered my heart with the realization that Kensington would one day marry another man, have children with him, be happy. It’s what I wanted for her, but never did I imagine the pain would be more excruciating than anything I’d ever felt before.
My eyes fill with tears as I murmured, “Celestina.” Please, I beg you, come back to me. You were more than my northern star. You were my sun, my moon, my universe, my guiding light. Without you, I’m lost. So lost.
When I heard the chimes indicating our descent, I forced myself to look out the plane’s window, below to Mallorca, the island that I’d made my home. Where my beloved and our unborn child were buried. The house, my house, was not destined to echo the happy sounds of my children running through it or of their mother laughing at their antics. Nor of I with her.
The pilot taxied the plane to its hangar and parked. Part of me wished I could tell him to turn it around and take me back to Italy. But would my pain be less there? Hadn’t it come when I witnessed the happiness of my friend and his wife? Could I bear seeing it again?
I stood and stretched my legs, noticing from the window that my valet was pulling my Mercedes-Benz convertible out into the sun and lowering the top. The weather today was perfect, as it was most days this time of the year on the island.
I took a step down the plane’s ramp and gripped the handrail when I was overcome by what felt like a hurricane-force gale. The air around me went still, like the calm before the storm, or had it already been? I
rubbed my temple with my other hand as Celestina’s voice spoke to me. “Kensington is in danger. Go to her, Cortez. Hurry.”
I spun around, back into the plane. “File an emergency flight plan,” I told the pilot. “I must get to London immediately.”
31
Kensington
“Shall we try again to have lunch today?” Linc asked when our four-hour morning meeting broke up.
“Sounds good to me, if we have time.”
He smiled at me the same way he had yesterday. “We have time.”
Also like yesterday, I sent Teagon a text, informing her that I was headed out to lunch.
“What sounds good?” Linc asked as we exited the building.
“Um…anything is fine…” I checked my phone when I didn’t get a response from Teagon. She always responded within seconds. I suppose she could be in the loo, but even then, she responded.
“Everything okay?”
I scratched my forehead, studying my phone and willing the three little dots to appear and ease my mind. When they didn’t, I bit my lower lip. “I’m sorry to do this to you two days in a row, but I need to run home and check on something.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
Still no dots. What in the bloody hell?
“Kensington?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if you wanted me to go with you?”
“No, no. It’s fine, I’m sure. Go on and get lunch, and I’ll meet you back at the office.”
“You’re certain?”
“Quite,” I answered, still studying my phone.
“Can I get you a cab?”
“That would be great, thanks.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something was wrong; I could feel it. Maybe she’d slipped in the shower and hit her head. Or maybe it was as simple as she’d been called to a meeting at MI6 and couldn’t answer her phone. That’s probably all it was. But wouldn’t she have sent a text, telling me so?
“Here you go,” said Linc, holding the door of the cab open for me. “You’re certain you don’t want me to come along?” he asked again.
Riled (The Invincibles Book 4) Page 17