Ripple (Persy & Sully) (Seaside Valleria #2)

by Marianne Knightly

  Prince Lorenzo nodded. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll just get Liliana.”

  Prince Alexander turned to him. “Officer.”

  He executed another bow. “Your Highness.”

  The prince strode away, and he noticed several camera phones aimed in their direction. Fucking hell. This was probably all over the internet by now.

  “You convinced my brother you’re sincere where Persy is concerned.”

  He sighed and turned to Prince Lorenzo. “Pardon my plain speaking, Sir, but does that mean you are not convinced?”

  The prince’s body tensed yet maintained the demeanor of a relaxed pose. “I’ve only met you a few times, through Hector, who respects you. I greatly value his opinion, so if he—as well as my brother—are convinced, I will be, too.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Don’t fuck up.”

  He blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever heard the royals curse in public. “Yes, Sir.”

  The prince nodded once then headed to the kitchen, and Sully grabbed a seat at the bar. Hector came out of the kitchen a minute later, the prince holding Liliana who was eating a cup of ice cream. After they and the remaining protection agents left, Hector turned to him.

  “Let me go check on her, and I’ll see if she’s up to seeing you.”

  Sully nodded, waiting yet again. He checked his watch and noted he only had thirty minutes left on his lunch break—fifteen if he didn’t count the time it would take to travel back to his post.

  He’d request an extension if he needed to. No way was he leaving without speaking to Persy first.

  Daley made his way behind the bar, a stack of small black folders with credit cards sticking out in one hand and an empty tray in the other. “You need anything, Sully? Water?”

  “No, thanks.” He caught sight of Hector and Millie coming back towards him, Millie diverting into the kitchen while Hector headed straight for him.

  Hector jerked his head down the hall. “Go to her, man.”

  “She ready?”

  Hector shook his head. “No, but I think if you don’t go she never will be.”

  On that cryptic statement, he slid off the stool and made his way down the hall.

  Needing to regain some focus, he went back to his cop training. Since he’d been so single-minded to see Persy and had missed so much earlier—he still could not believe he’d missed fucking royalty in the room—he hyper-observed everything around him.

  So, he noticed the slight creak in the floorboards, the slight flicker in one of the overhead lights. He heard someone in the washrooms—the men’s—on the left, and a muted timer going off in the kitchen on the right. He also felt eyes on his back; without even looking he knew it was Hector, and maybe even Daley. They weren’t sure of him, and he hated that.

  For all his family’s teasing, he still strived to be dependable for them, and he hoped that on some level, they saw him that way. He also wanted to be dependable for the people he served, either in Ireland or in Valleria.

  He’d prove to his family that he was dependable and mature. He’d prove he was trustworthy and worthy of Persy.

  He’d convince Persy of that, too.

  He reached the office door near the end of the hall and knocked lightly.

  “C-come in.”

  His heart nearly broke at the cracking sound of her voice. He stepped through and shut the door behind him. The office was fairly small—a desk, filing cabinet, a set of lockers for the staff’s belongings—but there were a few chairs and a couch. She was seated in front of the desk, her hands fidgeting and her face down, and he took the seat beside her.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, before he’d settled. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  “Apology accepted.” He took her hands in his. He could have told her that ‘it was fine’ or that ‘it didn’t matter’, but it did. Brushing off the incident wouldn’t make her feel better, it would make her feel worse or even feel shame for what she’d done. Her actions hadn’t been right, but she didn’t need to feel guilty over it. She’d known it was wrong after it had happened, and him drawing it out wouldn’t help anyone, least of all her.

  Her eyes blinked and rose to his. “Really?”

  He gave her hands a squeeze. “Really, honey.”

  “You’re not angry with me? I mean, I slapped you in front of all those people. The princes…”

  “Had their own words with me, so don’t worry about that.”

  She gasped. “What? What did they say?” She jumped up. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll explain—”

  He pulled her down again. “There’s no need for that.”

  “But the princess might’ve been afraid or upset—”

  “She wasn’t. I checked.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a staggered sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  “The princes were concerned about you and wanted to make sure I didn’t have anything to do with you being upset.”

  “You didn’t.” She looked away, frowning. “Not entirely.”

  Something twisted inside him. “Well, you were right that I shouldn’t have interrupted you at work, but I have a feeling something more is going on with you, and I’d like to understand what that is. Would you like to share that?”

  She shook her head, her hair shifting to hide her face slightly. He let go of her hand to tuck some behind her ear, letting his fingers linger over the silky strands and the soft curve of her ear.

  His phone rang, breaking them both out of their thoughts, and she jerked in her seat. He checked it and saw it was the alarm he’d set for lunch; if he didn’t leave now, he’d be late returning to his post.

  “Do you need to answer that?”

  He sighed and put his phone away. “It was an alarm. I need to get back to work, but I’m not leaving until I know you’ll be all right.”

  She muttered under her breath and he barely heard her. “That’s a loaded question, if ever there was one.”

  He squeezed her hand. “We need to talk more. I can call my commanding officer, let him know I’ll be back late—”

  “No! No, don’t do that. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  He was already in trouble, but not just with work. How could he convince her that he wanted more—in the form of a real relationship—with her? He’d mentioned it last night.

  Well, maybe he’d ordered it last night.

  Maybe he should back off, start slowly. Maybe he should give them the start they should have had: dating first, then fucking. “You know, it occurs to me that we’ve never been on a date.”

  Her eyes gave him a very befuddled blink.

  “Are you working tomorrow night?” When she didn’t answer, he squeezed her hand again. “Persy?

  “Er, no. I’m not working.”

  “Then get dressed up. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  He grinned. “Yes. I’d take you out tonight, but I’m working the second of my double shift. Even though I’ll be off at six, I’ve been working since last night, so I won’t be much use for a date tonight.”

  He wanted to reach out to her, brush a thumb against that pale cheek. He held back, would hold back, until he was sure she welcomed it. “Tomorrow night. You. Me. A nice restaurant, but nothing too fussy.”

  “You’re taking me out on a date?”

  “Technically, you haven’t said ‘yes’ yet, but I’ll show up at your door at seven anyway.”

  “Oh.” She looked adorably confused.

  He supposed that was partly his fault for letting their relationship focus only on sex, but that had been what she wanted, too. “Persy?”

  Her eyes met his.

  Maybe she was through with him entirely after last night and today. Was she rejecting him? “Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?”

  She was silent for a moment, and rubbed her lips together. “Yes.”

  He smiled and let out an internal sigh of r
elief. “Good. Then I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  He stood, bringing her up with him. He kissed her forehead and peered down into her eyes.

  At first glance, he’d thought they’d been ice blue—cold and unforgiving. Now, he knew the ice hid the raging water underneath. He knew that blue would turn deep and rich when her skin was hot and reaching for pleasure. He knew that blue belied the woman she really was.

  He leaned down, watching her eyes for a hint of wary. When none came, he leaned down further and kissed her softly. They’d had any number of kisses over the last few months. This one was gentle, with just a quick flick of his tongue against her lips.

  “Tomorrow, honey.”

  She nodded and squeezed his hand.

  He squeezed back, then let go and walked out. One way or another, he’d prove to her that they deserved a chance.

  Chapter Three

  “No.” A click. “No. No.” A pause and more clicks. “No. No. No.”

  “Persy! You’re going to break my hangers the way you’re shoving them around.”

  Persy groaned, picked out several clothes from Millie’s closet, then collapsed on top of Millie’s bed clutching them while they were still on hangers. “It’s no use. All of these will look terrible on me.”

  Millie sat down beside her and gently pulled the clothes from her arms. “They won’t.”

  Persy fixed her with a ‘really?’ glare.

  “Well, okay, some of them might look…less than flattering because we have different body types, but you’ll never know until you try some on. How about this one? I think it’d look great.”

  The color wasn’t too bad, actually. It was a rich, deep forest green top in stretchy jersey-type fabric. It wasn’t form-fitting—Millie never wore form-fitting, even though she now had a man like Hector who made it clear he loved her body—but Persy wasn’t big on clingy clothes either. She wasn’t sure who’d decided that fashion had to stick close to your skin, but she’d never liked it.

  Not even before…not even when she’d had a body that’d look good in skintight clothes.

  Millie handed it over. “You’re smaller than me, so it might be baggy on you, but give it a try.”

  Persy fingered the elbow-length sleeves and soft material. Boatneck styles usually looked good on her, so this one had a fighting chance.

  “Do you have a cardigan at home to wear with it? It still gets cool at night. Or you could try a scarf, or dress it up with a blazer.” Millie held out a black jacket in the same soft, stretchy material. “This one’s super comfy. I wear it when I’ve got jewelry shows in posher places. I can wear it all day and not even notice it’s on.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need it?”

  Millie started picking up the pile of previously discarded clothes on the bed. “Positive. I’ve got some shows coming up, but nothing blazer-worthy. Just some fairs.”

  “Do you usually sell a lot at those events?”

  Millie paused, her hand smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle. “Sometimes. Actually, I’ve been selling a little more since I started doing it full-time. It helps that Hector’s usually with me when I go.”

  Millie had been attacked at a show a few months ago. They’d apparently been seeing each other before then, but they had really gotten together after that. When Hector saw what had happened to her, he’d gone into full protective mode. He’d moved her into his apartment to help her while she’d recovered, and Millie had basically never left.

  “I bet he attracts a lot of women to your booth.”

  Millie gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I suppose he does, but that’s not what I meant. I…” She took a deep breath. “I’m pretty shy, or I was, which is terrible if you want to sell things. Things were difficult, really difficult, for Hector and me, and not just because of what happened to me. I was afraid and exhausted. A lot. All the time. There was my mother in the nursing home, and the situation with Piers…well, you never met him, but you know the damage he caused, and not just to my apartment.”

  Persy had managed Millie’s old apartment building. Millie’s half-brother, Piers—former owner of the pub until Hector took over—broke into her apartment multiple times, or sent someone else like their father, causing significant damage each time. When the dust settled, the owners had kicked Millie out, and had fired and kicked Persy out of her apartment on the property, too. It was after that, when Persy went to the Seashell to let Millie know, that Hector hired her on as soon as he’d heard what had happened.

  “Hector helped me get through all of that. Not just the Piers stuff, but when my mother passed away. I’m stronger because of him.”

  Persy spoke hesitantly. “Millie, I think that strength is yours. You don’t owe it to him.”

  Millie smoothed the shirt again. “No, I know. I mean, he believed in me and showed me what it meant to love another person. He showed me that I was worthy of love. I didn’t believe I was before him.” She said the last sentence almost to herself.

  “He makes you feel safe.”

  “Yes, definitely. When he’s at one of my shows, I don’t have to be afraid, and I’m usually not anymore. I just get nervous when I have a show out of town, and he’s always there for those.”

  Millie had just revealed so much of herself. Though they’d shared before—they’d gotten close after Millie’s mother had died, which is when Persy had shared her past—Persy didn’t feel obligated to do the same right then. Yet, she wanted to share more. She wanted someone to know more about her, to care for her. She was tired of running from her past. Millie and Hector knew why she grieved, but not all the rest.

  She could share some of her past now. “I was in love once.”

  Millie’s fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of the shirt. “Back in Ireland?”

  She nodded. “I was married. No one here knows. Not about that, or…or about the rest.” She met Millie’s eyes. “Not even Sully.”

  Millie nodded, a tacit agreement. “I’d never say anything.”

  “Thanks. I know I haven’t shared this before, and I’m just not ready to share everything now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t someday.”

  Millie gave her a small smile and sat down next to her on the bed, her arms still full of clothes. “Is that why you’re worried about this date with Sully? You’re worried about sharing things with him?”

  “It’s our first date.”

  Millie raised her eyebrows, her lips quirking.

  “It is! I mean, we’ve had sex before—okay, a lot of sex before—but this is different. I’m not sure how to act.”

  “Is, um, is Sully the first man since your husband? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Millie added quickly.

  “It’s all right. No, he’s not the first, but he’s the first that could mean something more.”

  “Oh, Persy.”

  She turned and went facedown into the bed, hiding herself as much as she could. Why was this so hard to talk about?

  Because she’d been told—over and over and over again—that some things should never be discussed. That some things deserved to stay hidden away, as if they were a shameful secret.

  She didn’t want to live like that anymore. She didn’t want to feel shame when she talked about the past. Losing someone wasn’t shameful.

  She rolled until she was facing up. “What do I do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On this date, I mean. How do I act? It’s been years since I dated.”

  “Well, um, did you and Sully ever talk when you got together before?”

  “Not really. We went back to my place and had sex, and then he’d leave.”

  “Oh.”

  She glanced over and saw Millie’s blushing face. “Are you blushing?” she teased.

  Millie turned away quickly, brushing her cheeks as if to wipe the evidence away. “No, of course not.”

  “You are.”

  “Am not.”

  “I’m taking a shot here, but I’m guessing yo
u and Hector have sex.”

  Millie’s cheeks went from a mild pink to an embarrassed red. “I can’t talk about that.”

  “I’m not asking for details. Not that I wouldn’t mind hearing them, if you wanted to share.”

  “Persy!”

  She giggled—giggled! She was not a giggler. “All I mean is that you understand how sex works.”

  Millie bristled. “Well, yes, I do.”

  “So, you shouldn’t be embarrassed to talk about it, least of all with me.”

  “You know what I think?”

  She leaned forward. “What?”

  “I think you’re avoiding your own question about how to act on this date.”

  She frowned. “Now you’re avoiding talking about sex.”

  “Yes, but this conversation’s about you, not me. I can avoid talking about sex in a future conversation. You cannot avoid talking about your date, since it’s tomorrow night. Your avoidance is more time-sensitive than mine.”

  She giggled again. “You’re funny, Millie.”

  Millie rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m hilarious. Now, back to you.”

  She groaned.

  “I think you should act like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you.”

  She blinked. “Like me?”

  “Yeah. Like you’re being right now: funny, teasing. Have you ever been like that with Sully?”

  She’d been a lot of things with Sully, and had exposed a part of herself to him during sex she probably shouldn’t have done. She’d laid herself bare—no pun intended—when she climaxed; she got the sense Sully knew that, too.

  But, no, she’d never been open with him like this. “What if he doesn’t like it?”

  Millie frowned. “Are you worried if that if you’re yourself with Sully, he won’t like you?”

  It wasn’t only that. She was afraid of being herself, because before she’d left Ireland, people had made it clear they didn’t like her, as in they really didn’t like her. Since then, Persy had tried to become someone else, or hidden herself away. She’d avoided getting close to people because she was worried what they’d think of her, and she was terrified they’d reject her as her family and others had done. She was also afraid of what would happen if Sully learned about her past. Would he then turn around and reject her, too?