Page 72 of Wired Strong

“You still miss him, don’t you?”

“I always will.”

All the things Sophie wanted to ask him about the man’s death clogged her throat, but this moment, here with their dear friends Nam and Kupa, was not the place for that conversation.

* * *

Sophie layin the spacious bed of the guest suite at the end of the hall. Nam had shown her around the mansion; she could still hardly believe that a house this elaborate had been constructed in such a remote area. Tran, the houseman in charge, proudly told her that the dwelling had been constructed more than thirty years ago by a previous Master.

Sophie got a bit of a chill thinking of each incarnation of the role Connor was now playing abiding in these rooms.

Connor was different in some profound way. It wasn’t just that he was grieving, because that was plain in his hollow eyes and whipcord-lean body. A darkness of spirit seemed to have fallen over him, along with the mantle of leadership.

They’d spent a lovely first evening at the house, eating a meal out on the patio overlooking the bay with Nam, Kupa, and Nine. They all spoke in Thai as Nine spoke only that language, although he had begun studying English in his spare time. Sophie loved the sound of her birthplace’s words on her tongue. They enjoyed an easy companionship, and several pitchers of locally made Palawan Wit beer from which Sophie abstained.

Connor voiced no interest in the immunity deal, in returning to the United States, nor in crafting any way to be with her more regularly.

Sophie sat up in bed.This was only day two.Hopefully, she and Connor would be able to find their way back to the easy friendship they’d once shared, at the very least. Throughout the evening she’d felt his intent gaze on her.

Was he hoping to get back together, now that Jake was gone?

It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

But the photo of the Master’s body had extinguished her interest once and for all. She couldn’t imagine having the hands that had stabbed another human with such ferocity on her own body.

Sophie got up and slid into the bathing suit and a light robe Kupa had hung in the closet for her. She padded down the immaculate tile hall. Being inside this house was like walking through the chambers of a nautilus: each room was white, filled with reflected light from the bay, the trees outside, and the sky overhead. Furniture was minimal, rugs nonexistent. The only sculptures were rare shells mounted on the wall, each of them artfully lighted.

Sophie entered the living room area. Tran was in the kitchen running some sort of electrical device, a jarring sound in the serenity of the mansion. “I was making you fresh passion fruit and Cherimoya juice,” Tran said. “it will cleanse your palate.”

He slid a bamboo cup of pale yellow-green juice across the breakfast bar toward her. Sophie picked it up and took a sip. Tangy and tropical, the combination was divine. “Thank you, Tran. What else are you making?”

“Fried rice with local vegetables.”

Sophie seated herself on a stool in front of the cooking island. “I can’t wait. Pregnancy has made me hungrier than usual.”

“And I’m just plain hungry,” Connor’s voice said from the doorway. He walked in, knotting a robe, and joined her on one of the stools. “Did Tran fix you his morning juice?”

“He did, and I love it.”

Tran handed Connor a bamboo cup as well. “Enjoy, Master.”

Sophie glanced at Connor. It was still strange to hear him called that, but he did not demur. He lifted the cup to his lips and drank.

“After breakfast, I was hoping to take a swim in that beautiful water. Care to join me?” Sophie asked.

“That’s why I got up early this morning—so I could clear my schedule. I was already on the satellite hook-up, checking all the Yam Khûmk?n’s business. I’m free for the rest of the day. Your pleasure is my pleasure, madame,” Connor said.

“Hearing you call me that reminds me of Raveaux. He calls memadame,” Sophie smiled.

Connor raised a brow. “That man likes you. And not as a friend.”

Sophie shook her head. “We’re colleagues. Friendly colleagues, it’s true, but nothing more. He’s even dating someone now.”

Both of Connor’s brows went up. “Is that so?”

“Heri Leede is rather fascinating. She’s British, retired from Scotland Yard. Less than five feet tall, drives a huge Cadillac, wears bright colors,” Sophie said. “She is a forensic accounting investigator.”

Connor laughed, the first humorous sound she had heard from him. “Now I’d really like to meet her.”

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