Page 21 of Hotshot Mogul

The name Beatles flashed on his phone, like it did during lots of songs he played. This one was about once having a girl. His mood lightened. He glanced at me. A smile played on his lips. My heart felt lighter. How could his moods affect me so strongly?

“You play lots of songs by Beatles.”

He shrugged and his smile vanished. “I grew up hearing them.”

“You have anger with the man who was with your mom. Was it your father?”

“Yes. Let’s leave it at that for now, okay?”

“Okay.”

In his life before, Nigan didn’t know his father because he died of the sickness that came with the missionary priests. I wanted to touch Bruce to comfort him. It was awkward with the middle compartment between us.

I put my hand on his leg. He covered it with his. He described me as his girlfriend. I didn’t think it meant betrothed. I had to know what he meant.

“You said girlfriend.” I spoke loudly over the Beatles singing “Back in the USSR.”

We stopped at a red light. He lowered the music and pressed down on my hand on his leg. His gaze was tender. “I like your hand here. I like kissing you and touching you. I want to watch your beautiful face when you come. I think you like me, too. I want us to be exclusive. Not see…I mean, be with other people, on dates.”

Before I could answer, the light changed color. He followed Rufus and turned down the road that led to the glade. “That means I want you to stay. I’ve been with other women. I’ve never felt this way with anyone, ever. Think about it, okay?”

I couldn’t be his girlfriend. But I couldn’t tell him why.

We stopped. We would walk the rest of the way. He opened my door, undid my restraint, and kissed me. I slid one hand under his shirt, the other hand in his hair, and surrendered to the mastery of his kiss. He parted my lips, and I opened for him. It was soft and tender, at first, then insistent and searching. It was new, different from anything I had done before. Every cell in my body came to joyful life. I clung to him, like calling to like, as if he was the only solid thing in this confusing world.

When he lifted his mouth, his breath was hot against my ear. “Babe, what you do to me… Tell me you feel it, too.”

I pressed my cheek against his neck and breathed in his scent. He sighed. I felt him smile. “I take it that’s a yes.”

I wanted to use the right English word. Cocky, that was it. I grinned.

Rufus and Callie were busy by the stand of white pine. I would join them, in a moment. Bruce pulled away and stared into my eyes. “What?”

“Cocky. You are cocky.”

He pressed his erection against my sex. “Cock is a name for this, whether it’s so hard it could cut glass, like now, or not. Give me a minute to not want you so much.”

I stepped away from him, toward my tree. I was so enthralled with Bruce, I hadn’t spared my beloved oak body a glance. “I’ll leave you, then.”

A pained look crossed his face. It was true, though. I would leave him—soon. I brushed past him and stood close to my oak. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and not from wind. The branches didn’t stir.

I dropped my bag. My tree was different. I touched the grooves in the bark and tried to summon Grenmann or Isolde to tell me what was wrong. Had I left it for too long?

As Bruce came toward me, his cell phone rang. He frowned, stepped away, then answered tersely. I turned back to my tree. I felt its pull. I should go back, right now.

For how long? If the rulers approved the plan to cut it down, what would happen to me encased inside? A breeze lifted my hair. My branches and roots beckoned, then pulled me hard.

“Not yet, sweet Anneliese.” Grenmann’s words rumbled through the breeze.

Bruce was suddenly beside me. His hands held me tight around my waist. His eyes were wild. “Anneliese,” he lowered his voice. It was just above a whisper. He spoke close to my ear. “I’m seeing things, I must be. Aftereffects of what happened before. I saw you fade, like you were being erased. Then a beautiful woman dressed in a long skirt, wearing a white cap over her hair, stood in your place. Then, she disappeared.

“I ran to you, her. I saw you close to this fucking tree. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

I strove to sound calm, although my heart pounded into my ears. “Nigan, Bruce…”

“That name—Nigan. It feels right and I don’t understand why.”

The oak was pulling me again. Bruce’s hold was stronger. “I fucking hate this tree.” His voice rose. He sounded angry. “More than anything in my life, even the bullshit with Diana, and Dad.”

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