Page 64 of Devoured
CHAPTER 17
Roland
A black sleep mask covered Iris’s eyes. On the short flight, I hadn’t insisted on covering them, but when it came to the drive, I wanted to surprise her. If she saw too much of the town we were driving through, she’d figure it out. Her hands clutched at the leather seat underneath her.
“How much longer?” Iris asked.
I glanced at my phone, checking the GPS. “Another twenty or so minutes.”
“And you’re going to make me wear this the whole time?”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. She turned her head toward me.
“Of course,” I said, a hint of amusement in my voice. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“Don’t act like you know me,” she said with a smirk on her face. I might have only known her for a short while, but I knew this surprise would be a good one.
It had been years since I had come back to California. Even when business wanted to take me there, I sent another person instead. That was part of being the boss; I could delegate tasks accordingly in any way I saw fit. But when discussing our meeting location, California seemed to be the best option, and for once, that sunny state wasn’t looming anymore. Maybe it was the lack of Valium and E. When the waves of sobriety didn’t make me restless or drown me in pulsating pain, I felt more in control. Like I could be present for once, and not think about the next moment.
“We should talk about the last couple of days,” she said, her chin bobbing as if something was agitating her. “I can tell you stopped using. At least recently. But still, what’s bothering you? What’s on your mind? And I—”
I put a finger to her lips and her chin instantly stilled, waiting for me to speak.
“Later,” I said. “Let’s enjoy today. We can talk about that soon.”
“Promise?”
“Sure.”
A hint of a smile crossed her face. Even if I had another intention, I wanted Iris to enjoy it. And if something came out of it, showing where her loyalties were, then so be it.
My phone buzzed, a text:We’re running late. That was fine; it gave Iris a chance to settle in. The town rolled over stumpy hills. A bicycle shop to the left. Then a hipster coffee shop. A vintage boutique. And on the other side, a used bookstore and a handmade toy shop. We were driving down a two-lane street that went through the downtown of Orchard Coast, a road meant for slow drives with room for pedestrians and bicyclists. Not my usual scene. Some coastal towns in California were meant for nightclubs and ragers, and others, like Orchard Coast, were quiet, meant for local produce stands, small businesses, and some of the best fish you’ve ever tasted. The loudest bars here were small tapas joints overlooking the water, and nightclubs didn’t exist. But there was beauty in it anyway. I couldn’t wait to share it with Iris.
A small, but well-rated hotel was situated right outside of where we were meeting them. The car stopped and Iris lifted a hand to remove the blindfold.
“Not yet,” I said.
I had checked in to our suite on the phone app, so once we got to the three-story hotel—one of the highest buildings in the entire town—I led Iris straight to the room, using the code on the door’s keypad to unlock it. It was a comfortable suite, with enough space that we could accommodate guests if needed. And it had a view of the town square.
The fridge was fully stocked, as requested. I grabbed two water bottles from it. I downed one of them right then; I’d had a pulsing headache for the last two hours. I hoped water would do the trick.
“Now you can remove it,” I said.
She ripped the sleep mask off faster than a bandaid, then blinked her eyes several times, letting her pupils adjust to the light. Sunbeams filtered through the space between the curtains, exposing a sliver of the town square below. She stared at the framed cross-stitch pattern of a colorful bouquet next to the window.
“Cozy,” she said.
That was one way to put it. “Hungry?” I asked. I opened the fridge again. I had no strict plans besides our meeting, and as well as one request to our guests. “We’ve got fruits and cheeses, I’m sure there are crackers somewhere. I requested local stuff.”
“I could go for some cheese and crackers.” She leaned over, looking around me into the fridge. “Got any local cupcakes in there?”
A small pink cardboard box sat on the top shelf, next to a container of orange juice. “Unless these are donuts,” I said. I pulled it out and opened the top. Four cupcakes with a swirl of pink and yellow frosting, white cake underneath it.
“No kidding,” I said, looking down at it. I wish I could have taken credit for knowing all of her needs, but like I said, I had basically asked the concierge to buy entirely local, though I didn’t specify what. I had no idea if we’d be staying in the room or not. “You like cupcakes?”
“Who doesn’t like cupcakes?”
The smile on her face, her relaxed features taking it all in, made me ache. I loved that smile. She was beautiful. But a voice in my heart warned me that I couldn’t be doing this for her alone. I had another mission.
