Page 42 of Roaming Holiday

My body ignites every time Wesley touches me, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been so deprived.

When Friday afternoon arrives, the same team that prepared me for the club rolls in with their equipment. This time, the dresses they have for me are formal. I quickly settle on a maroon mid-calf dress. The front folds over my chest, exposing my collarbone and shoulders. My throat clogs with nerves. The Higher Court will be studying me for signs of Mom. How can I become her if I don’t know her?

I stare at my reflection as the team straightens and curls my hair again, twisting it into a low bun. I search my wide brown eyes for a hint of her. She had blue eyes. Perhaps we have the same sharp cheeks.

I shiver when the loose curls around my face tickle my neck. Greta sets a chunky ruby necklace against my chest, and frankly, I’m scared to ask what it’s worth. I struggle to steady my breathing the entire drive to the palace, but my thumping chest tells me this dinner will change everything.

20

WESLEY

I wake up covered in sweat.

The wound on my left hand throbs. This nightmare wasn’t about the boy I saved from gunfire; I relived each kill like a movie with Nina, Cora, and Mom as my audience. My chest caves at the sight of their horrified faces. Nina flinched from me. Mom couldn’t meet my eyes. My mind and body betray the efforts to improve, as if life in the underground is a muscle memory, utterly ingrained in my heart.

Maybe it’s who I’m meant to be.

El Revalté.

I’ve stared at the ceiling so often that I memorized each cobweb and spec of dirt. I heave a sigh, waiting for the urge to throw in the towel and call Trakas to offer my services. It would be so easy. Before I can push myself to do it, Mom, Cora, and Nina appear in my mind—asking me why.

Why would I become an assassin? I tell myself it’s because I wanted to be part of something bigger. I wanted to put my mark on the world. But after my third or fourth target with Santiago as my boss, I realized it was the solitude. It was good that I wasn’t in society. The less I spoke to people, the better. I just so happened to be skilled with long guns and staying in the shadows. As much as I hated Santiago naming me The Ghost, it fit—and I liked that no one knew my real name. Almost like it wasn’t really me committing these acts.

I sit up and swing my feet over the edge, head in hands. How did I end up here? All those years suddenly become clouded, poisonous memories. My military career could have been promising if I hadn’t spent half of it searching for targets underground. Even as a ranger, I did things my family wouldn’t be proud of.

More than anything, I want to disappear. Not leave, not move to another city or country. I want the half of me that feels like a ghost to overtake me. The few moments I feel grounded are when Nina’s near. She was ecstatic to see a damn cat napping on the back of a Great Dane. She shoved a french fry into my mouth because I wasn’t “fully living” until I tasted it. She doesn’t have to search for joy, it lives in her, and she uses it wherever she can.

Nina reminds me of a reality without darkness. A world with light.

I spend the next two hours trying to get my head on straight. I make the bed, sweep, clean the kitchen, eat breakfast, clean the kitchen again, shower, and shave my beard. I almost trim it further until remembering Nina’s reaction the last time I had. I could tell she hadn’t meant to react, but my stomach lurched at her pout.

Even though I’m off duty while she dines with the Higher Court tonight, my chest caves as she walks in the opposite direction, her dress swaying around her legs. I don’t know if I’m addled with constant thoughts of her or if the prickling along the back of my neck is a warning. My instincts are reliable, but I hate that they blend with Nina.

Yes, I constantly wonder what sound she makes when having an orgasm and what her nails feel like digging into my back.

Yes, it’s been a while since I had sex.

I haven’t slept with anyone since Daria, and these intrusive thoughts of Nina make me consider calling her. But Daria wouldn’t hesitate to pull me back into underground work. Anything involving my ex-girlfriend has a hefty transaction, and she’s not worth the risk. Regardless, the thought of taking any woman who’s not Nina to bed makes me nauseous. She’s the only woman I crave. I fall hopelessly into every opening she gives me. All she has to do is give me those doe eyes—and I’m done. I release a long breath.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks as I stride into the security room. Monitors cover every inch of a wall, displaying camera footage of the dinner location in the Maia wing.

“To offer extra hands.”

He hands me an earpiece. “Then you can go check the blind spots on the upper external floor.”

“Yes, sir.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I help identify and cover the blind spots and bite back a retort about how this should’ve been done long before the dinner started. I do an extra lap of the patios with alcoves overlooking the garden. Parallel to the nooks, French doors lead to an interior balcony around the perimeter of the circular room.

Down below, the Higher Court starts gathering amongst a seating area to the side. Only a few members arrived, and they’re chatting with the sisters. Nina glances up and spots me walking along the balcony. Her brow knits, but she visibly relaxes before turning back to the Court. She laughs at something her sister says, a smile brightening her brown skin. I shift focus before I start picturing myself kissing her bare shoulders and collarbones.

Jack redirects me to double-check a blind spot outside. Once finished, I turn and find Nina twenty feet away with a curious expression.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

I fight every instinct to rake my eyes down her body. “Working.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “Why? We’re in the palace. You don’t work when I’m in the palace.” She studies me. “Are you okay?”

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