Page 44 of Lost & Found

“Very true. Are you going to let me see it?” he finally asked with a playful smile on his face.

“The ones with stars next to them are ones I willingly, knowingly and with a tremendous amount of thought put on the list. Those were not influenced by Pasha. They may relate to others, he suggested, but they are mine. I’m doing them.”

Before I could lose my nerve, I flung the card across the way. He grinned at my antics, and then his brow furrowed. He did several double-takes between the list and me. Then he fixed his gaze on mine.

It was as if he were staring right through me. A stupid list of bucket items, written out, should not have caused me so much anxiety. But it did. He exhaled, concern passing through his eyes. A pang of dread knotted in the pit of my stomach.

“Okay, right off the bat, you’re starting off strong. A trip abroad, especially given you’ve never done one, will undoubtedly be exciting. I’ll admit it is unconventional. Faking like you’re dating? Since you’ve expressed your confidence and safety with Pasha, it makes it easier.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I braced myself for his inevitable question and potential flat-out disapproval of number three to hit.

“I already know which one you take issue with,” I blurted out.

“I don’t take issue. It’s giving me pause, is all. I’m trying not to let my bias get in the way, especially given your earlier statement, about retreating into silence.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I get that number three is deeply personal. But I have my reasons. And I’ll remind you, I’m not a silly teenager. I’m twenty-four.”

“And?”

My face flushed as the heat hit my cheeks. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Marcel, it has to happen at some point, right? Otherwise, I may as well join a nunnery. While black is my favorite color and I’m excellent at vows of silence, I’m really not good at the religious aspects of that lifestyle. Clearly, I’m not wild and wicked. Nor do I pursue pleasures of the flesh outside myself. But I’m not dead inside. I do like…”

Dear God I hoped he could track. I would crawl under the couch if he asked me to explain it further. It was the truth. I masturbated occasionally, quietly, and in secret. That’s only slightly dysfunctional. Right? It worked for me. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the list once more. I let out my breath and noticed his lips turn up. He understood entirely.

“I’ll caution you with one thing. Really think the decision through. When it’s with someone you love, it’s different.”

“I get that, but how many women have you had sex with that you didn’t love?”

“Touche. I need some time to process number three more deeply.”

“I’m not taking it off the list, Marcel.”

“And I didn’t ask you to. Since there is no time-limit on it and I’ve never known you to rush into anything, I think it’s safe to say we can come back to it. I applaud you for digging deep. I like the disclaimer Pasha has added on a few of these. Would you allow me to do the same?”

“Depends on what it is,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“I would like to add the disclaimer that you are allowed to modify the list.”

“But the entire purpose of it is to be accountable. To make decisions and see them through.”

“It is, but in life, we always have the option to make a different choice. I want you to see the varying shades here. It’s not all black and white. Our time is up. I’d like to talk in depth about number three. Primarily your expectations. I have a feeling it may get deep, so we’ll discuss it at our next session. When are you and Pasha going on this road trip?”

“In three weeks, I think,” I breathed. It had gone better than I expected.

“Plenty of time to cover it.”

I met his eyes once more. A silent acknowledgment of understanding rested there. I sensed his genuine desire to support me.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath.

I was late, and this was not the night to do so. My heart raced from sprinting from the garage to the house; Marcus’ laughter rang through my ears. My last tattoo appointment ran later than I expected. Of all days, it would be a family meeting night.

Shedding my coat and shoes, I tossed them haphazardly aside as I darted towards the drawing room. I was sure everyone was going to be there already, waiting—some patiently, some impatiently—for me to arrive. The thought made my stomach churn with anxiety. But as I pushed open the door, I was met with an unexpected sight. It was empty.

I checked the family group chat to confirm we had a meeting and re-read the message. Shit, it was changed to the conference room. I dashed down the hall, frantically bumping into the maid coming out. Mumbling an apology, I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Instead of a room full of family members, there was only Victoria.

The sleek, modern furnishings of the room lent a whole new feel to the evening. It was dominated by a large U-shaped table, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the chandelier overhead.

Kinsley insisted on it when renovations were underway. She felt it made it more elegant, never mind it was the meeting place where the Death Squad had their life-altering discussions. Plush chairs were arranged around the table, and name cards showed the seating arrangement.