by Alexa Donne
“Didn’t she already do that by stealing my invention?” Bitterness sparked in the back of my throat.
“That . . . I think that fell into her lap, and she ran with it. Ben ran your idea up the chain on the Lady Liberty, but your name must not have made it to the top, only your host ship—the Scandinavian. Miranda Fairfax contacted Captain Lind, and here we are. Ben and I really thought, I swear, that you were involved. We didn’t know she’d stolen it from you. It’s how I knew you couldn’t have read the letter. You didn’t have the patent.”
“How did she do that, though?” I asked. “I have the blueprints bio-locked on board the Sofi. She couldn’t have.”
Suddenly Elliot found the floor fascinating, and my stomach churned with sick.
“Elliot, no. You couldn’t have. You said you didn’t.”
“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t lie to you. But I think this is my fault. When I messed with your security protocols, I took a peek at your files in the workshop—I was so curious how much progress you’d made since I left. And I was so proud of you! But now I realize I must have left the security window open, and Max and Ewan got in. They were asking about your workshop after they got back, but I didn’t even think about it.”
“You think she blackmailed them, too?”
“I know she did. How do you think she found out about the business?”
“She kidnapped them and held them on the Scandinavian. I suspected, afterward.”
“You did?”
“I’m not stupid, Elliot.” My lips turned down into a frown. “Except apparently I am. I knew my aunt was unscrupulous enough to kidnap someone, yet I never considered she might steal from me. I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t she just ask me? If the Scandinavian needed the business to save us, I would have helped.”
Elliot shook his head. “She couldn’t have you involved, not willingly. That would have scuppered her leverage on me. She wanted everything all at once—the public front of respectability from the water-filtration deal, and then the real long-term insurance policy of my running the black market from her ship.”
“That’s her deal? That you run it from the Scandinavian?”
Elliot nodded. “Yep. I’m to dock the Islay with the Scandinavian, giving her the whiskey business and the spoils of my real business. In return, she’ll keep my secret and protect me from the authorities.”
I turned everything over in my brain, connecting all the dots, finally. But I came up short on one thing.
“How would my aunt’s coming to me about the water-filtration-system venture have damaged her leverage on you? That has nothing to do with the black market. I don’t see the connection.”
Elliot let out a bitter laugh. “That wasn’t her leverage. Not really. It was you, Leo. She threatened to turn you out. Charge you exorbitant docking fees and ruin your reputation among the other ships, ensure that you were left destitute. She knew I would agree to anything to protect you.”
My throat clenched tight as feelings too overwhelming to contain bubbled up from my very core. Though only ten feet of floor separated us, suddenly Elliot was too far away, the space between us cavernous and cold and wrong. I launched at him, my full-body tackle sending him tumbling backwards onto the bed, what started as a hug quickly transforming into something more intimate by virtue of the location. But I didn’t care if it was too forward or sudden. I needed him, clutched to me so tight that our heartbeats muddled together.
“You’re so stupid.” I laughed into his ear, nuzzling the shell of it with my nose, then moving to kiss the edge of his jaw, up to his temple.
“Me? Why?” His hand found my waist, and he crept sure fingers around to the small of my back, pulling me in closer. Then he ducked down to kiss the skin of my exposed shoulder, making his way up the line of my neck, paying reverent attention to every inch of skin. I shivered under his touch.
“I don’t know. You just are. For not saying anything sooner, I suppose.”
“Pot, kettle.”
I wrenched back, stopping him mid-pucker. He looked like a crestfallen duck. A giggle escaped me.
“You acted like you hated me,” I said. “Then you tried to be my friend. Then you ran away. Your signals were beyond mixed.”
Elliot groaned, flopping onto his back and too far away from my lips for my liking. “Why couldn’t you have just read the letter when I gave it to you? You’re so stubborn, Leo! Now everything is . . .”
“Royally frexed?” I offered, pulling him by the collar of his shirt back toward me. Our lips hovered an inch apart. Then he frowned. Wait, no, that was all wrong. I needed him to kiss me now.
“You need to talk to Miranda Fairfax,” he said, then wrenched his shirt from my grasp and extricated himself from my embrace, sitting up. With a sigh, I followed suit. He clearly wanted to talk.
“No, I need to talk to my aunt,” I said. “She’s a champion liar who can spin anything. It’s no use talking to Miranda or anyone if I can’t prove it.” My mind clicked through a number of scenarios and options. “Do you think I could record her? Get her to confess?”
Elliot seemed to think it over. “You can record via wrist tab. The feature is disabled automatically for privacy reasons, but I hacked mine ages ago. Here.” He removed his and placed it gently into my open hands. “But you have to do it tonight. Miranda could leave at any moment.” He paused, brow furrowing deeply. “Even if you can get her to confess, I think I’m stuck. She knows about the black-market business. She can take me down.”
“Give up that business, then,” I said, running my fingers lightly against his cheek, cupping his face with my hand. Elliot’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into my touch. “Go legit. The Islay is actually a whiskey ship, right? Just manufacture booze, and we’ll get married, and everything will be perfect.”
Like I’d shocked him with electricity via my fingertips, he shot back and free of my touch. “I like what I’m doing, Leo. I’ve found my purpose. Something I’m really good at.”
“Stealing?” I countered.
“It’s not petty theft. You didn’t give me a chance to explain that night. Why I’m doing this. How it works.”
“Evgenia explained it to me,” I said. “You think you’re Robin Hood.”
“Robin Hood was the hero of the story. And it worked. I’m doing what I can to even the playing field.”
“By stealing from people like me.”
“Don’t you see that they’re not on your side?” he pleaded. “You’re closer to my end of things than you’ve ever been. When your ship fails, you’ll be at the mercy of whichever ship will grant you a visa and whatever work you can get. The fleet is merciless. Wealth and utility trump all. I want to protect people like you. Redistribute wealth, resources. Help.”
I felt myself soften, just so. Elliot had nicked the skin, a sliver of his reasoning invading my bloodstream. My head began to swell with the traitorous rush of mixed feeling. I’d always loathed the extravagance here, the pomp and circumstance of titles and private public quarters and rations for the lower decks while my friends and family swam in champagne and decadent meats. My family had felt the slow crush of dwindling wealth, creeping closer every day to desperation.
And Elliot. My Elliot. Good and loyal Elliot. I couldn’t see him as a villain. We’d been apart three years, and no one truly changes so drastically in that period of time. Elliot was ever eager and warm and kind, and I wanted to believe his every word, because he believed it. Or, at least, I would believe it tonight. Let us sort out the messy business in the cold light of day.
“I . . . I think I need time,” I said, telling the truth. “I’m not convinced you can control this, but I know your heart is in the right place.”
Elliot lit up, then grabbed me by both hands and dragged me up and into his embrace.
“I’m so relieved to hear you say that. I like who I am now, what I do, but I love you, too.”
I drew back, observing him. “I thought you had changed so much. That I
didn’t know you now.” I brushed a stray lock of hair away from the frame of his glasses. “It was your confidence that threw me. You didn’t have that before. It’s sexy.”
“I wasn’t sexy before?” He grinned a crooked smile, setting off his dimples.
“No comment.”
“You’re no fun.”
“That’s what they tell me,” I quipped. Then frowned. I could practically hear my cousin’s voice echoing in my head. “What are you going to do about Klara?”
Elliot’s expression darkened. “I’ll talk to her. I don’t think she actually wants to marry me. At least, I hope not. She’s hard to read. And what about you?”
“Me?”
“You’re engaged? To the irritatingly attractive guy.”
“Daniel,” I corrected him. My stomach swooped uncomfortably. I let myself drift back, out of Elliot’s arms. I needed the space to think. “Scheisse.”
“What?”
“We have an arrangement. I made a promise, I . . .” I cursed thrice more, under my breath.
“You don’t want to break it off?” Elliot’s voice choked with emotion. “Do you—do you love him?”
“What? No! It’s not like that at all.” I pressed thumb and forefinger to my temple, as if to ward off my impending headache. “He needs a marriage of a certain convenience as badly as I needed a wealthy husband, and he’s a really nice guy. We’re friends. I hate to hurt him.”
“He has to understand that we love each other, though?”
I groaned. “Daniel will understand perfectly, and I’m going to hate myself for doing this to him for that, of all reasons.” There was no way to explain everything to Elliot, and now wasn’t the time. Nor was it my place to share Daniel’s private business with him. Thankfully, Elliot didn’t press me for an explanation.
Elliot’s wrist tab pinged, three times in quick succession. I glanced down at it, now on my wrist.
“It’s Klara,” I said, reading the messages. “And she’s very cross with your disappearance. Her mother is asking questions.”
“So she’s still there. Good. You should message the captain now, saying you need to talk. Get her to meet you somewhere quiet and private.”
I used the native messaging system on the Sofi to contact my aunt, and then we waited.
“I’ll talk to Klara,” Elliot said. “But I’ll leave Daniel and the timing to your discretion.”
“Wait, are we really doing this?” I asked, thinking it through properly, now that I was clear of the nonstop feelings train of the last half-hour. “Did you even ask me to marry you? Because I don’t think you did.”
“Technically, you asked me. Or told me,” Elliot said. “Frankly, I was going to scold you on how thoroughly unromantic your proposal was, but I figured I should let you off the hook. You’ve had a rough night. And I love you, so I don’t really mind.” A mischievous smile played at his lips as he inched closer to me, extending his hand, as if asking me to dance. I took it, tentative excitement bubbling up from my spine, and I gasped with delight as he yanked me to his chest. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing tantalizingly over my bottom lip. I shivered. He pulled closer, lips hovering a breath away from mine; my eyes were glued to them, my breath coming in short puffs.
Then, finally, bliss.
Elliot kissed me hard and deep, meeting me with a near desperation that I matched in kind. We channeled three years of pent-up feelings, of longing and missing and wanting, into the press of our lips, into the way we clutched at each other. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to anchor myself to him. Or maybe to burrow myself closer. We couldn’t be close enough, after so many years apart, and Elliot seemed to agree; he slipped his hand to the small of my back and pressed me tighter to him. My fists were in the way, so instead I slithered them up his chest and over his shoulders, clasping them together at the base of his neck.
I melted into him, and he walked us backwards until my back hit the bunk frame. His and my movements began to blur; whose knee slid between whose legs first was unclear, several of Elliot’s shirt buttons seeming to come undone of their own accord. Just as the kiss started to transform into something more, a metallic ping sounded. My aunt had replied.
Meet me at the pool in twenty minutes, her message said.
“I have to go,” I panted as I righted my dress and careened over toward the mirror. I did my best to smooth my hair and unsmudge my lipstick, but I soon gave up, knowing I’d have to rely on the good five minutes it would take to get back up to the pool for my kiss-swollen lips to go down a bit.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Elliot sidled up behind me. He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin where my shoulder met the nape of my neck and slid his arms around my waist, curling into my back. “The pool is a weird place to meet.”
“No, go talk to Klara. I can handle my aunt. She probably knows what I’m there to talk about and wants to put me on edge. I hate it up there.”
“I’m going to miss you,” he mused.
“It’s only an hour. You’ll live.” I twisted out of his grasp and strode toward the door, hoping he couldn’t see the stupid grin splashed across my face.
Thirty-One
The scent of the day was cherry. All the lights in the spa were dimmed down low, and the piquant fruit note made me long for pie. What a mood to go with a bit of espionage. I checked Elliot’s wrist tab for the fourth time, ensuring that it was recording. Although I wasn’t entirely sure what I would say to my aunt to get her to confess, I was secure in the knowledge that the wrist tab would record every word.
The door had been open when I arrived, signaling my aunt’s presence. I crept down the corridor past the locker room, stomach screwing into knots with every step. This was definitely why she’d chosen to meet here. This place made me feel on edge and trapped and desperately unhappy. She wanted to put me off my game.
The pool came into view. There was no light except for those illuminating the water from underneath, casting the whole place with an eerie mood that sent further shivers down my spine. I inhaled deeply through my nose, then slowly exhaled through my mouth, once, twice, thrice, finding my center. Now was the time to polish my acting chops. I couldn’t let her see how much I was rattled. I stepped forward, my head and shoulders thrown back, a smile plastered on.
“Aunt Freja!” I greeted her, my voice bouncing and duplicating as it echoed throughout the largely tiled space. I had to squint to find her. She was all the way at the far end of the pool, near the diving platform. I bounded over, feigning delight.
“Uh, Leonie, hi.” My enthusiasm seemed to throw her, as I’d hoped. I even hugged her for good measure. She was stiff and cold as always.
“It’s so strange that you suggested we meet here! I just wanted to say congratulations, and thank you.”
“You said you wanted to meet privately.” She gestured around us. “It seemed to be the best location.”
“Yes, yes, that’s true. Well, it’s just so funny, after all that, that Klara is marrying Elliot and you’ve solved the ship’s usefulness problem! What a night.”
She tilted her head at me. “Honestly, Leonie, you are a terrible liar, so let’s not pretend you’re happy.”
Any buoyancy I’d felt, false or not, immediately evaporated. I fingered the edge of Elliot’s wrist tab nervously.
“Fine,” I said. “I think you owe me an explanation.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The captain picked at a nail and leaned casually against the diving platform.
“I think you do.” I had to be careful. I didn’t want to mention Elliot and the black market and get it on the recording too. I had to get my aunt to confess to what she did on the face of it, stealing my blueprints and passing off my idea as her own.
She narrowed her eyes at me in careful assessment. I may have been a terrible liar, but I was honestly and genuinely stubborn. I held her stare. A minute ticked by, the soft gurgle of the water filters accompanying the syncopate
d rhythm of our breathing.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she said flippantly. “You’ve landed yourself a gorgeous and wealthy husband. You don’t even need the money anymore. What does it matter?”
Ugh, no, she was being purposefully vague, not admitting to anything. Did she suspect I was recording this, trying to catch her out?
“It’s not about the money,” I said. “The water-filtration system is mine. I’m the one who discovered the concept in the archives and adapted the Earth-bound version to make it work on our ships. I salvaged the materials, built it, tested it. I’ve been trying to license it for months, and you stole it out from under me.”
“Did I? That sounds so far-fetched, Leo. Why would I steal from my own niece? And how would you even prove that?”
“I have the patent. It was filed weeks before you met with Miranda Fairfax. You pitched her just the other day, right? That’s why you were being so cagey when I ran into you two in the ballroom. You kept cutting me off and wouldn’t let me speak.”
“You were boring her, my dear. I was saving you the embarrassment. Are you feeling okay? I think you might be drunk.”
I sputtered incoherently. “No, I’m not drunk. I want you to admit that you stole my invention from me!” I’d gone shrill, and I could feel my blood pumping hotly. My vision started to fuzz with anger.
“You were drinking a lot earlier. I was worried you’d fall off the stage! Do you think that might be where this fantasy is coming from? I’m family, so you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m certain Elliot’s getting engaged to my daughter was a massive blow. You did make a scene, after all. You’re looking to blame me for something.”
“I’m looking for the truth,” I ground out. “You stole my design and pretended it was yours. That deal with the Lady Liberty should be mine. It was my idea.”
“Leo, you’re so hopelessly idealistic!” My aunt’s slick veneer slipped, contempt bleeding through her every word and expression. She pointed to my wrist. “And, what, you’re going to record my confession on that thing? Child’s play.” With violent speed, she snatched the wrist tab from my wrist and held it aloft. Angry red scratch marks appeared at my pulse point.