“Glad to hear that,” Mena whispered. “Try to meet me outside near the bushes in the corner. I’ll be waiting.”
Julian watched as Mena was beckoned by the woman she’d been hanging out with for most of the night. The sight of her tight ass in the white dress stirred a fierce desire that would need to be alleviated … soon.
Thirty minutes later, Julian had secured the empty ballroom and reported the “all clear” to Enzo through the wireless communication packs they wore underneath the dark suits.
“All clear outside,” Enzo responded.
Julian slipped his dark sunglasses into the inner pocket of his jacket, then headed toward the marble ivory steps of the ballroom leading out onto the rooftop garden.
Stepping out into the night, Julian immediately saw Mena. She stood alone, sipping a glass of wine as she looked over the edge of the building toward the twinkling lights of the Nairobi skyline.
Tucked away behind a series of artistic box bushes next to a crystal pedestal with overflowing forget-me-nots, she was hidden from view of the other guests. Tendrils of her hair danced softly in the breeze against her skin. She rubbed her arms absently.
In the distance, the crowd huddled on the designated dance floor, an area surrounded by velvet ropes, swaying and dancing to the music from the six-person live band. Cocktail tables dotted the rest of the rooftop, with groups of guests lingering around each of them, drinking and talking.
Walking up behind Mena, Julian slipped his arms around her and kissed her softly on the neck.
“I missed you tonight,” Mena said.
“Me too,” Julian murmured. He inhaled slowly, delighted by the scent of sandalwood and orange wafting from her skin. His hands slid down the length of her dress, caressing her hips. Julian wanted to pause time right then and there, never leaving this moment.
Mena gripped the wine glass tighter, lacing her fingers around the stem. Julian noticed a shift in the air, a seriousness infecting her mood.
“What are you thinking right now?” Julian asked.
Mena shrugged, then sighed. “You ever think about how we met? If Ella hadn’t kidnapped me and if I wasn’t with you when her dead body was found, I doubt we would have spent enough time together to fall in love. Kind of feels wrong to be so happy when we were brought together from tragedy. Makes me wonder if we’re on borrowed time …”
Mena faced him. Julian looked down into her beautiful eyes. He wasn’t sure what had brought on this somber mood, but he was glad she was opening up to him. Instead of pretending everything was fine like she probably wanted to, she was sharing her honest feelings.
Julian shrugged and admitted, “I’ve been living on borrowed time since my SEAL team was massacred. I don’t deserve any of this—“
“Don’t say that,” Mena interrupted, placing a finger against his lips. “Your actions back then were heroic. You risked your life trying to save your team. It’s not about doing the perfect thing or never making a mistake. Julian, you are always willing to put your own life on the line to save others. That’s why you deserve all the happiness that you have right now.”
“So why don’t you think you deserve this happiness?” Julian asked. He could see the worry in her eyes, but he couldn’t understand what drove her fears. He knew she’d gone through a bad divorce, and maybe that experience made her anxious about their future. But Julian would never let anything break them apart. He’d fight whoever and whatever to be with Mena.
“I don’t know,” Mena said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure why I even brought it up.”
“I’m glad you did. We’re no different than any other couple. We’re going to have our fair share of fights, disagreements, challenges, and obstacles. But, you know what?” Julian asked.
Mena looked up at him, her eyes filled with hope. “What?”
“We’re strong enough to overcome them all. Nothing is going to break us up. I won’t let it. So, don’t worry, okay,” Julian said.
“Even if I’m not sure I want to get married again?” Mena whispered. “Would you still want to be in a relationship with me?”
“Is that what this is about?” Julian asked, a heaviness seeping into his bones.
Mena looked away.
“Excuse me. Would you like champagne?” The frumpy, kid waiter interrupted. Julian detected a slight tremble in the boy’s voice and glanced over his shoulder. An older waiter stood on the other side of the garden, watching and scrutinizing the kid’s every move. A thin sheen of sweat coated the boy’s face.
“No, we’re good,” Julian said, waving the waiter away.
The boy nodded, then looked down, eyes darting before he stepped toward the red carpet leading to the dance floor. His steps were cautious and hesitant.
Julian tensed, his eyes locked on the kid’s movements as he approached the dancing guests. A stilted, stiff gait. Head turned left, right, then left again. The arms of his oversized white jacket damp with sweat.
Only the arms damp with sweat?
