Page 43 of Jewel of the Sea

Aymee shook her head. “No. I… The distraction will help.”

Kent nodded. “I’ll see you at the clinic soon, then. Take all the time you need.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before stepping outside.

“I need to wash up,” Aymee said.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not right now.”

“Okay. I’ll make something for you to take with you.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Aymee retreated to the bathroom, where she removed her clothes. Her skin felt gritty with sand and dried salt. For a moment, she stood in silence, a hand settled over her stomach, and recalled the way she’d felt pressed against Arkon and coiled in his embrace. He’d held her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Her skin tingled with the memory of his hesitant, curious, intimate touch.

And she’d ruined it.

She hurriedly washed, scrubbing her skin and hair, and dried off.

Stepping into her room, she dressed in a loose skirt and a short-sleeved blouse. As she buttoned her shirt, she glanced at her nightstand and froze.

Her jar of rocks lay broken on the floor, the precious stones scattered amongst shards of glass.

Numb, Aymee stepped forward, narrowly avoiding the pieces of glass. The nightstand’s bottom drawer was open. She removed the books from it one by one, hardly breathing. It wasn’t until she found the small stack of folded letters that she released a relieved sigh and sagged onto the bed.

She lifted her head and scanned the room. The dresser drawers were partially opened, their contents disturbed, and the objects on her table had been moved. Her attention caught on her satchel.

It had been laid atop the table, flap thrown open, papers spilling out.

“No,” she rasped and quickly crossed the room, somehow missing the glass shards. She stood the satchel and pulled out the papers with shaking hands. “No. No!”

Every drawing she’d made of Arkon —every single one!— was gone.

Icy fear flooded her, thawed by rage close on its heels.

How dare he?

He’d come to her this morning in peace, but it had all been a lie. His kindness and friendship were false fronts meant to lull her into lowering her guard.

Aymee left her room, striding toward the front door.

“Aymee?” Jeanette frowned as Aymee passed her. “Aymee!”

She ignored her mother as she threw on her shoes and stormed out, stalking down the street toward the town center. She paid no mind to the people milling about the square.

Shoving the double doors open, she strode into the town hall.

Aymee swept her gaze over the room and spotted Randall standing at one of the tables, bent forward with his hands on the tabletop. He turned his head, eyes widening when they fell on Aymee. The other two men — Cyrus and one she hadn’t met — shifted their attention to her, as well.

“Where are they?” she demanded, closing the distance between them.

Randall quirked a brow. “Where are what, Aymee?”

“My sketches,” she bit out. “You took my sketches!”

He frowned, but the mild confusion on his face didn’t fade. “I gave them all back to you after they fell. I handed them directly to you.”

“But you came for them. You searched my damn room for them!”

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