Had I known what a hateful brat she was, I might have. At least the royal yacht was probably big enough that we could avoid each other. That hope was dashed almost as quickly as it came. When we got to the private docks, I had to admit there were perks to knowing royalty. We bypassed the guard and drove to the edge of the empty dock. The boat, however, was tiny. It was the prince's private yacht, the one least likely to be noticed missing.
Addie gave the Prince a lingering hug goodbye and then imperiously handed me her bag to take below decks with my own. I seethed, but my father had raised a gentleman. Whatever Addie thought of him, I would not throw the bag back at her spoiled, pretentious face.
The area below decks was surprisingly spacious with a bathroom, kitchen and bar area, and a cabin with a single large bed. There was long, narrow, built-in seating lining the walkway back to the cabin.
I eyed the bed. We could fight later over who sleeps where.
We would have to anchor tonight and dock the following afternoon. Surely, I could put up with her in close quarters for that long without losing my temper.
Or maybe not. I came up from exploring below decks to find her perched presumptuously at the helm. I couldn’t help the words that flew out of my mouth. "Are you always this much of a control freak?"
"Are you always this much of an arse?" She shot back. I started to respond, but she cut me off. "Look, we can trade insults all you want later. Let's just get out of here before I'm seen."
That she was right was more annoying than her superior tone. We managed to work together long enough to get the yacht going in the right direction. The winds were perfect, and it looked like smooth sailing ahead.
I shouldn't have been surprised that she knew her way around the boat. Ceithre was an empire of islands. Boating was part of our way of life. But then, she hadn't been able to make the coffee she drank every day. So the fact that she was willing to get down and dirty on a ship was still worth raising an eyebrow.
Addie sure-footedly hopped from one end of the boat to the other, pulling lines and tying off ropes where appropriate. Then, she went right back to the helm.
I gritted my teeth. "I've got this, Princess. You can go below decks now. Don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything until we get there."
"It's adorable that you think I trust you any further than I could throw you, but I think I'll stay right here. It is nice that you think I'm pretty, though." She beamed a mocking smile.
"Maybe before you open your mouth." That got rid of her smirk.
She didn't move, though, and short of physically lifting her from the chair, I had to let it go. I wasn't ready to be confined below decks, so I went as far from her as the small yacht allowed and laid down. I was still exhausted from the night before. Soon, the swaying motion of the boat rocked me to sleep.
I awoke to a toe poking me in the side. The offending digit was attached to a dainty bare foot. Addie had removed her scarf and hat, so her long waves were streaming in the wind. The sun glinted off the swirling blue of the giant necklace when she looked down at me.
"What?" I asked, a bite to my voice. As usual, sleep had not been kind to me.
"I thought you might be hungry." Her voice was a little off when she said it, but I could smell food. "Don't worry," she added, "I didn't cook any of it. Perry sent it."
Of course, he had. I wonder if there is anything the perfect prince hasn't done.
I shook that thought off, not sure where it came from. I was famished, actually. Judging by the sun, I had been out for a few hours, which put us close to three o'clock, and I hadn't eaten since breakfast.
The meal she had laid out on the bolted-down deck table was simple fare, just an assortment of cheese and meats with a loaf of bread, but it hit the spot. We ate in silence, Addie looking much more peaceful than I felt as she stared out at the vast expanse of sea.
Then she looked back into the food bag and came out with a small chocolate frosted cake. She cut a piece and shoved the rest toward me, but I shook my head. Sugar wasn't my thing.
Apparently, it was hers. Addie's face was pure ecstasy as she put bite after bite of it into her mouth. It was impressive she could fit so much food into that tiny body. I wondered if anyone would ever look at me the way she looked at that cake. As she was licking the last of the frosting off her spoon from her third slice of cake, she sighed.
"You've certainly changed your tune," I commented.
"Chocolate and the sea," she said, like that explained everything.
I guess it did. Maybe, like me, she had learned to take her happiness where she could find it. I thought back on what I'd said to her earlier, how I'd implied her life had been a picnic.
She could be abrasive and bratty and stubborn, but she had never once faltered. My brothers and I dealt with things like this every day, and that was one thing. But a girl who has never struggled in life would have folded in on themselves by now. I reviewed what I knew about her in my head.
The Director lost family in the explosion, his wife, I thought. Everything from that time was a blur as I tried to remember more details. I just remember thinking he had purposely killed her to remove himself from suspicion, and how much more of a monster it made him.
That must have been Addie's mother.
I would have felt guilty, but what she had said about my father still made my blood boil. I still remembered what it felt like to not know where my next meal would come from, or what day would be my last. As young as I had been when Father found me, it had still taken years of constant, patient love for that feeling to go away.
When he had found my brothers, it had helped. Two other boys who understood how lucky they were to be found by this generous man. He was a stern teacher and prone to his own dark days after the war, but that only raised our opinion of him. As far as I was concerned, a man who could see all that my father had seen and never be affected by it was no man at all.
I really had no excuse for the demons I battled late into the night. After he adopted me, Father had shielded me from the horrors of war. My one major scrape with death was nothing compared to what he had endured, but these days, the nightmares wouldn't let me go. Even now, they were holding on. I noticed Addie studying my face and realized I had gone broody. I conjured up my usual cocky smile.
"Like what you see?"
"Don't you just wish," she responded, but her face reddened a touch, and she looked away.
Interesting. My smile widened.
Addie excused herself to below decks since our path was a straight shot from here. When she emerged several hours later, she was carrying an open bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I quirked an eyebrow, and she held the bottle out questioningly. I nodded, accepting her peace offering for what it was.
She poured us each a finger of the amber liquid while I was dropping the anchor. Then, she carried her glass and the bottle downstairs, and I followed with my own. She sat the bottle down on the table and moved to sit on the small couch. I sat uncertainly next to her.
"To hell with this necklace," she said, clinking my glass with her own.
I shot mine back and was a little taken aback when she unflinchingly did the same. The burn down my throat was welcome and familiar. She refilled them.
"To hell with the explosion," I said, my thoughts still dragging me back there.
She nodded fervently. Once again, we both finished ours quickly. This time, I refilled them, but we were content to sip them now.
After a moment, she started to talk. "I don't consider myself to be a hateful person," she began.
I nearly spat out my drink when she used the very word I had been thinking about her earlier.
"But sometimes, I sit around and just hate General Noble. I despise him with every fiber of my being. I wish he hadn't died in the explosion just so I could kill him myself for everything he's done to my family."
I had no idea what to say to that. It didn't seem like the time to tell her the truth. From her reaction earlier
, I knew she'd never believe me anyway. I wondered what she would think when she found out who I was, and why I cared enough to wonder at all. When too long had gone by in silence, I asked her what I already knew.
"You lost someone?"
"Two someones," she answered.
I was surprised by that. Before I could ask further, she shook her head.
"Never mind. I don't know why I brought that up. I don't want to talk about that. Tell me about something else."
"I almost died once," I blurted out.
Where did that come from? I never talk about that.
"In your line of work, I wouldn't think that's so unusual," she commented.
I grinned, thinking of the zeppelin incident only days ago. "You're not far off, but I mean I actually almost died. Anyway, never mind. We should talk about something happy."
"Happy is overrated. I'd rather talk about something real. Is that how you got this?" She asked, running her finger from the side of my jaw down my neck. The scar was still sensitive, and it made me shiver. Her eyes met mine, her usual haughty expression gone.
"Yes." And I found myself telling her all of it.
Masked men coming for me. Bleeding out on a sidewalk. My brothers' faraway voices, begging me to stay with them. White hot pain, and then darkness. I'm not sure how I managed to wake up. I hadn't bothered to pray, certain there was no god who would listen to me at that point. Maybe my brothers' collective stubbornness had pulled me back from the grave.
"What were you doing there to begin with?" she asked. "Was it a mission for the Men of High Purpose?"
I could have lied. Probably should have lied. Maybe it was just the whiskey getting to me, but I was so tired of dubious truths.
"No," I answered. "It was something I was doing for me." I was surprised when she didn't press further.
"Did you ever find out who it was or get your retribution?" she asked instead.
I shook my head. I didn't tell her Xavier had yelled, ordered, and finally begged me to stop searching for answers about what had happened to my father. I still suspected that was a large part of why he had shackled us to the MOHP, so that my life would be so strictly controlled, I wouldn't have a chance. And out of respect and love for the two of them, I had gone along with it. But I had never really stopped looking. I couldn't. I owed that man everything.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," she said out of nowhere. "About your father. I didn't mean it. Gunther told me about him, and he sounded amazing."
I almost laughed. If only she knew she was talking about the same man she had been expressing her hatred for mere moments ago.
Then she continued. "I was just saying it to be mean. I do that. I lost my mom and sister in the explosion. Sometimes, I think I lost every decent piece of myself that day, too." She paused, then cleared her face of the momentary flash of melancholy. "Anyway, I don't know why I'm telling you this. A truth for a truth, I guess. Now we're even." She moved to get up, but I grabbed her wrist.
For reasons I couldn’t make sense of, I wanted her to stay.
"It's okay to be human, you know? I know losing someone is hard, but you can’t just give up on life. You have to keep living."
"What, like you have, Clark?" Her voice softened on my name, and her blazing amber eyes locked on mine.
My breath caught in my throat. She wasn’t wrong.
I was still holding her wrist, and I used it to pull her down to me. I never moved my eyes from hers, gauging whether she wanted this as much as I did. In that moment, I didn't care that we hated each other most of the time or that we would regret the hell out of this in the morning.
She didn't appear to care, either.
She let me tug her into my lap, and I moved toward her slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. Instead, she closed the gap and put her lips to mine without hesitation. Her kiss was demanding and confident, spreading molten lava through every part of me. She tasted like whiskey, but her movements were even and sure.
I put my arms around her waist, pulling her in closer, and she put a leg on either side of my lap, deepening the kiss. Her dress moved up on her thighs, but she made no move to pull it down. I placed my hands on her creamy skin, and her breath hitched.
Her hands were on my biceps, but they moved around to the buttons of my shirt. She unbuttoned them with fingers that didn't fumble, alleviating any concerns I had about her state of mind. My own felt muddled, but not with drink. I had been with girls before, but I had never felt this consumed.
"We probably shouldn't do this," I murmured against her mouth, but damn if I didn't feel more alive than I did on the riskiest missions.
"No, definitely not," she agreed, not backing up in the slightest.
Then she bit my lip, and I lost all rational thought. I moved up to give her space to slide my shirt down my arms as my hands moved further up her thighs. She pressed herself against my bare chest, and I stood up, carrying us both to the bedroom, not breaking our kiss.
Any fear that I had misread the situation was extinguished when I sat her on the bed. She whipped her dress over her head, and seeing this usually uptight, fierce woman staring up at me with plump lips and lustful eyes wearing only her undergarments nearly undid me. I climbed in beside her, kissing her again and exploring her skin. When I got to her stomach, she giggled.
Is she ticklish? I did it again, another giggle.
Somehow, that only turned me on more. Until she hesitated, asking in a half-joking manner, "Is it bad that I don't even know your last name? Is it worse that I don't care right now?" She made to kiss me again, but I was still.
She doesn't know my last name. She doesn't know who my father was, that our families are enemies.
As much as she would hate me when she found out, if we didn't stop, she would probably also hate herself. I couldn't do that, and I couldn't tell her the truth now.
She pulled back, looking confused when I was no longer kissing her back. I felt my expression go hard, so I tried for something softer, but the damage was done. Hurt flickered briefly over her face, and a pink tinge came to her cheeks. The rare glimpse of emotion made me want to punch myself in the face, but it was better than the alternative.
"We shouldn't do this," I said, unnecessarily since she was already moving away.
Her mask was back in place, and I cursed myself for putting it there.
"No, you're right. That was irresponsible. I'll just get ready for bed now. To sleep, I mean." She grabbed her bag and walked into the bathroom with her head held high, making no move to cover herself.
I groaned into the pillow. What the hell just happened?
The Heiress
The prince had been the first boy I kissed, but he hadn't been the last. Occasionally, I needed an escape that alcohol couldn't give. I never gave the boys in my class the satisfaction of owning me as they so dearly wanted to, but there was always a muscular gardener or an unsuspecting waitstaff on whom to bestow my attentions.
I had discovered I liked keeping myself in pieces, and I never handed them all out to one person. If I interacted with someone socially, I never kissed them. In Perry's case, after I had spent the night with him, I no longer wanted to confide in him. This kept me safe, and relatively functional, if not necessarily happy. Happiness had died with Mama and Amelie, though, so that had never really been on the table to begin with.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adelaide
I took my time in the bathroom collecting myself as I carefully removed my make-up and brushed out my hair. I took off my brassiere and put on pajamas, because I wanted to sleep well, and it was nothing he hadn't seen now anyway.
I barely resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall. What is the matter with me?
Besides my lack of self-control and the fact that I was usually too eager for a good distraction. It was just like I had said. The best parts of me had died with Ami.
I had never lost control like that before, not accidentally anyway. I hadn't expected
to kiss him at all, but he was there, like an oasis in the desert, offering up honesty when I had had none. It didn't help that he'd been sitting there with his muscled arms and his black wind-tousled hair, his strong jaw and a reckless look in his sea-colored eyes. I couldn't even blame the whiskey, not having had nearly enough to impede my decision-making. And I was certainly sober now.
I wasn't actually as surprised that I had kissed him as that I had talked about Amelie. I had kissed plenty of people, but I rarely opened up. I wished I could take that back now. All of it, really.
He clearly regretted kissing me.
My cheeks burned when I thought of his hardened face, the way he had backed off. I couldn't really blame him. We didn't even get along, and a few good kisses, even a few great kisses, weren't enough to erase that. Add to that his obvious disdain for my father and me both, and we were a match made in hades.
It’s probably a good thing he stopped us. Definitely.
That sinking feeling in my stomach was related to something else entirely. Hoping I had stayed in the bathroom long enough for him to fall asleep, I finally emerged. No such luck. He was wide awake with an inscrutable look on his face, standing awkwardly in the bar area, his shirt returned to his broad chest.
"The bathroom's free now." Stating the obvious seemed to be my go-to move in uncomfortable situations.
"Thanks," he said. He hung back, though. "I'm just gonna crash on this couch." Couch was an incredibly generous term for the narrow white seating. He literally wouldn't fit.
"Don't be ridiculous. This bed is so big, we won’t even have to touch each other." I was proud of my cheeks for resisting the urge to redden at that statement. "Besides, we both need to sleep."
He hesitated, then nodded. He went to the bathroom, and I climbed into the bed, leaving the light on for him. Clark didn't take half as long as I had, so it was only minutes before he switched off the lantern and climbed into the bed, as far away from me as he could be while still technically being on the bed.
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