Page 74 of Wrathful King
I snorted softly. “What happened to cinnamon girl?”
He stared at me, eyes dancing with mirth. “She’s still there.” He tapped my chest gently. “And you’ll always be my cinnamon girl, but you’ve been to hell and back. You survived some bad shit. And, as a result, you became a queen.”
My teeth trapped my bottom lip, and his eyes traced the movement, blazing in return. But he didn’t move. I believed him—he would be patient with me.
“Can we sleep in the same bed going forward?” I asked quietly, then hurried to explain as I inwardly cringed. “Just sleep.”
A dizzying smile took over his beautiful face, brightening his features, and suddenly I felt like he wasmylight. My oxygen. My home.
“I thought you’d never ask, wife.”
He opened his arms wide, waiting, and I slowly leaned back into his heat and settled under his strong arms.
The backs of my eyes burned and words scorched my tongue, but they refused to leave my lips. So I did the only other thing that felt right in the moment… I cried.
Once the floodgates opened, there was no stopping the tears. And still he held me. Kissed the back of my head. Traced small circles on my skin. There, in the light of a new day breaking over the horizon and dripping through the curtains, I let myself be held, let him be the one to ground me, while my heart whispered all the things my mouth couldn’t yet say aloud.
AMON
A drink in my hand, I leaned on the railing and watched as the yacht cut through the blue water of the Indian Ocean. We were headed toward Sri Lanka through the open waters.
We’d left Jolo last night, and while our first night on the yacht wasn’t originally spent in the same room, we did have adjoining rooms. After she woke up, plagued by yet another nightmare, I’d climbed in with her to let her know she was safe, and she’d fallen straight to sleep. When she’d woken with clear eyes for the first time since her rescue, we made a pact.
We’d sleep in the same room going forward.
I debated whether it was wise to bring Reina on the boat so soon after she was transported to Brazil on one. I still wasn’t sure she was faring any better. I saw her using the breathing techniques Dr. Freud taught her as a coping strategy. I had her anxiety medication, but Reina and I agreed that if we didn’t have to use it, we wouldn’t.
Reina sat in one of the lounge chairs, wearing pink heart-shaped glasses and a pink one-piece bathing suit. She looked like a Hollywood diva dating back to Marilyn Monroe’s reign, except she was still too thin.
Although there was hope there too. We ate breakfast together today, and she cleaned her plate for the first time since returning home.
I scrolled through my surveillance apps, checking for the two remaining people I had on my hit list, and for Phoenix. As if Dante was doing the exact thing, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
I got a tip from Lykos Costello. He spotted someone fitting Phoenix’s description.
My brows furrowed. I usually didn’t deal with the Greek mobster. I typed a message back.
How did he know we’ve been looking for her?
I glanced over my shoulder to where Reina lounged, her nose buried in one of Athena’s smutty novels. The leather-bound sketchbook and charcoals I’d thought to pack lay scattered around her, pages and pages of designs rustling in the wind under the paperweight. I’d given her the supplies when we got her settled, but they’d sat untouched.
Until today.
It was the first time she’d shown interest in sketching, and it might be selfish, but I didn’t want to worry her with this news. Not when she looked so at ease.
My phone buzzed again.
He didn’t. Marchetti talked to him. His wife must have nagged the shit out of him.
I typed back.
Will you follow the lead?
I knew the answer would be “yes” considering it was the first and only lead since she disappeared.
Yes.
My eyes flitted to my wife again, only to find her watching me, her head cocked to the side. I smiled reassuringly.
