Page 105 of The Protégé

After spraying mud off our bodies, we went back to our hotel, washed up, and spent the rest of the evening in bed, watching a random science show on television.

Elena snuggled into me, looking drowsy.

“I can’t believe we spent four hours on the uphill terrain,” I said.

“It would have taken us nine hours if we had done the ten-mile course.” She looked up at me. “Did you enjoy your time in the mud with me?”

“You’re the highlight of it all.” I kissed her gently.

“I’ve always wanted to do it, but didn’t have anyone to go with.”

“Why did you want to go through this mud course?” I asked.

She looked at the TV screen, which was showing abnormal weather around the world.

Sighing, she sat up and looked at me with weary eyes. “The obstacle course reminds me of life. The ups and downs, the difficult sections that make you want to give up, but you don’t because you see people in front of you succeeding.” She paused, tugging at the bedsheets. “I agree the mud is gross, but there are so many things in life that are worse. The evil things people do to one another are worse than mud. I can wash the mud off, but some things don’t come off that easy, you know?”

I also sat up and shifted to face her, letting her words flow into my heart.

“You’re right. See? This right here—” I tapped her forehead “—is why I love Madame Sarcasm. Not only does she possess sarcasm, she also possesses innate wisdom.”

She blushed and looked at my shirt. Curious, I glanced down at my black V-neck shirt, not seeing anything strange about it.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

She met my eyes. “What did you do with your necklace?”

I knew this moment would come, and she had a right to know.

Her shoulders slouched. “Today is one of those days that makes me wonder about a lot of things. I want to know what’s going on in here.” She placed a hand over my heart. “Were you married to her?”

I gripped Elena’s hand and kissed it, wanting to remove her vulnerability and self-doubt.

“No. We were engaged for a week before she died,” I said, and finally described the dark memory that had made me feel guilty all these years.

Excitement rushes through me as I stop by Tasty Thai and place an order for shrimp pad thai and tom yum soup. Kate loves Thai food and I’m hoping she’ll forgive me for missing our lunch date today. I stared at the text messages we had exchanged earlier today.

Kate:Can’t wait for our date. Love you so much!

Me:Sorry, babe. I’m stuck in a meeting. Can we reschedule, please?

Kate:You’re always in meetings. Can’t you just leave earlier? I have something to tell you.

Me:I can’t today. Sorry. Please don’t be mad. We’ll chat when I get home.

Kate hasn’t responded yet. It’s been hours. I sit in the chair and wait for my order, watching the cars rush by. I check my phone again, but no messages from her. She must be furious at me. Or she’s busy working. Kate works for her mother’s real estate company, so her hours are flexible.

She wants a small wedding, and I’m fine with whatever she wants. We’ve been together for three years, and I’m excited to start our future together.

She doesn’t know about my extracurricular activity, and I don’t plan on sharing it with her. Her father works for INTERPOL, the International Criminal Police Organization. If he finds out what I do as a hobby, he won’t let her marry me. No father wants his daughter to be with a criminal—a thief. Right now, he knows I’m a successful entrepreneur and heir to my father’s wealth. I don’t want Kate to be in a difficult position.

We’re similar in so many ways. Both of us suffer from extreme anxiety. On top of her depression, she also has to deal with thyroid issues, which have made her hair thin over the years.

But we love each other, and that’s all that matters.

My order arrives, and I head home. I walk into her apartment, place the takeout bag on the kitchen counter. The stack of cardboard boxes is pushed against the wall.She has one box open, but there is nothing in it. We’re supposed to pack her stuff and move it into my new house next month. This is my first house in Sweden. I’ve always stayed in a luxurious apartment, but Kate wants a backyard, so I’m giving her a big house with a big yard.

“I’m home, baby.” I walk into the living room, but she’s not in the comfy chair I got her last Christmas.

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