Page 71 of Lela's Choice

“Sophie says she checked on me, and they’ve talked.” He pocketed his phone.

“Who’s they?” Lela could guess the answer.

“Mariella, Peter.”

“She trusts the Debrincats more than me!” Sophie wasn’t just stepping away from Lela, she was bolting.

“She’s punishing you for being right, for insisting she take responsibility,” he said. “Although the Debrincats won’t treat her like a princess. They’ll expect her to work.”

“Why punish me?” Lela scowled at him. “You’re the one who told her to grow up and engage her brain before acting.”

“I have the value of novelty. And the Debrincats probably know about Marty’s work and reputation. I get the street cred for employing him.” He moved his chair closer and draped an arm around her shoulder. “You didn’t argue when I said I could be a bridge.”

“It’s time I passed the baton, at least where Sophie and Papa are concerned.” She snuggled under his arm, content to be comforted. “That doesn’t make it painless.”

“She and Peter will come to the hotel tomorrow. She’ll ring your father. So far, all she’s decided is that she’s staying here until she turns eighteen. But, she wants to feel that legal independence, see if it makes her feel different.”

“And your role?”

“To be witness if your father threatens her or Peter.” He kissed the top of her head. “To point out she could disappear in Malta for the seven-and-a-bit weeks we’re talking about.”

“Mariella Debrincat would hide her?”

“That’s about it.” He took his arm away. “Are you going to call Sophie again?”

“Not yet.”Ridiculous to feel bereft without his embrace.

“Your father?”

“I’ll send Papa an email when we reach the hotel.”

Slipping his hand into hers, he tugged her to her feet. “Then back on deck. We must be passing Comino, the third island. You should see it.”

“Be tourists?”

“There’s nothing you can do now. Let it go for a while.” He stood behind her on the deck, his arms wrapped around her, his warmth and strength at her back—a lover’s embrace.

––––––––

HE TURNED OFF THE NAVIGATIONsystem when they disembarked, leaving the sun and occasional road signs to guide them back to the hotel. Meandering along back roads, they talked little, although Lela rested her hand on his thigh from time to time, to draw his attention to some point of interest.

When roadworks forced them to halt for ten minutes, he pulled her into a clinch—a spontaneous embrace to match the carefree moment. Catcalls from the road workers reminded them to move on.

Mid-afternoon, Hamish turned the corner onto Great Siege Road and started the descent to the hotel. The calm sea and bright heat reflected off the yellow stone creating an impossible contrast to the previous night’s wild weather.

“Have dinner with me?” He pulled up at the entrance.

“I’d love to.”

“My room at seven, room service. When will you let your father know?”

Lela rested the back of her hand against his cheek and rubbed gently. “Give me an hour.”

He glanced at his watch—she smiled again, seeing the spider move with the ticking over of each second. “An hour. Text me if you need longer. I’ll contact him after you do.”

“That should be long enough. Then I might spend the rest of the afternoon working, or pretending to be a tourist.”

“Playing hooky. How wicked of you.”

---