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No one had had her fire. No one had had that crooked smile. No one had had that silent communication that the two of them shared. Instead of finding a kindred spirit in a single glance, they’d all glared at Zhi as he invaded their privacy.
He'd waited until the last person had boarded the first boat of the day, still looking each person directly in the eyes, still not finding the connection he sought. He stayed for long moments after the ship had sailed.
Had his own ship sailed? Had he lost her for good?
He reached for his phone again, readying to slide into her DM. He'd Gram her. He'd Snapchat her. Heck, he'd rebuild Myspace if that's what it took to find her and beg her forgiveness.
He’d beg her for another moment. Beg her to mix music with him. Beg her to simply look in his eyes and know exactly what he was feeling.
He'd gotten it all wrong earlier when he’d tried to use words to explain his situation. This time he’d simply hold still and open his world to her, to show her what was truly in his heart. She’d understand then. She had to.
Then they would have a whole new reality to contend with. He had no clue how he'd save his family and home now. What he did know was that there was no point in saving it if he'd lose himself.
Looking down at his phone Zhi saw that the device was dead. Made sense as he'd been tapping on it all night long. Unfortunately, there were no charging outlets on the pier.
He decided to head home. Perhaps she’d gone back to Mondego House in the early morning hours. She’d have to collect her things.
Pulling up at the front of the estate, he saw a white van with a colorful cartoon plunger painted on the side. There was a plumber parked outside the house? Things must have gone from bad to worse while he was gone. He had no idea how he'd pay for this.
No, he did know. He'd put the place up for sale. He'd turn the keys over to Mr. Schiessl. After the sale of the estate and the paying off of debts, there might be enough money left over for a modest home. Perhaps a townhouse with enough space to house his mother and two rooms for the small staff who depended on them. His father would have to go into state care. There was no other way around it. But first, he had to find and fix things with Spin. Whatever was between them, he knew he wanted a future with her.
Walking into the house, Zhi came face to face with Lark.
"Where have you been?" she demanded.
Zhi ignored her quip. If she was there, then Spin had to be too. The two women were best friends. Spin wouldn't leave Cordoba without her.
Relief surged through him. He wasn’t too late. He could spare a moment to deal with the disaster raining down on all their heads.
"How bad is it?" Zhi asked Oswald who had walked up behind Lark.
"It's bad," said Oswald. "But not as bad as we thought. They said they can repair it in two days.”
“Where are they?” asked Zhi. “I’ll speak with them about the bill.”
“The bill is taken care of.” That came from Lark. He’d nearly forgotten the woman was there. She had that way about her where she could blend into the scenery like a chameleon. “Spin paid for it with the money she got from DJing Parker’s cruise.”
Zhi closed his eyes. On the one hand, he was thankful that she cared enough to help his family. On the other, his shame reached his hairline that the damsel he’d distressed was now acting like his hero. He needed to find her immediately.
“Where is she?” he said.
“She’s not here,” said Oswald. “She left with Mr. Schiessl.”
The man’s words made no sense. “Schiessl? He took her?”
"He said he had business with her. He called her Lady Trent."
Chapter Twenty-Six
“It doesn’t matter what you say to me, I’m not going back.”
Spin plopped down in the plush office. Her arms were crossed over her chest. There was mud on her boots that she’d tracked through Schiessl’s office and she was happy for that. She loved putting a tarnish on fine things. But only things that belonged to snobby people.
She’d been a blemish her whole life, having been born the illegitimate child of an Austrian aristocrat. Though the noble class had been abolished in the last century, her father’s family still held tight to their fortune and their stuffy values.
The Earl of Feldkirch, Jakob Trent, had had no children with his wife. He had no love with her or anything in common with her except their blue blood. Or so her father had told her mother. And that wasn’t until Angelica had found his wedding ring in the back pocket of his pants.
Angelica had been her father’s piano tutor when he was in his twenties. Spin had learned that her father took up many hobbies and left them after his head was turned. Her mother was one of those hobbies. Unfortunately, he kept coming back around for his forgotten toy only to discard her again and again.
