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It’s raining when we take off, which doesn’t really do much to quash my nerves as soon as we board Kal’s jet. Once we’re able to get up and move around, I unbuckle myself from my seat and go to the bedroom, climbing under the luxurious covers, trying not to let Marcelline’s words from earlier take root in my soul.
“She doesn’t know me,” I whisper to myself and the pillow. “She doesn’t get to decide if I’m falling in love.” I pause, considering. At what point does an obsession become more?
Probably when you start to feel it’s being returned.
‘If you’re jealous, I’m a goddamn psychopath.’
Scoffing, I push the memory of him saying that to me to the dark recesses of my brain, where I push everything else I don’t want to deal with. “Besides, that would be crazy, right?”
A throat clears in the doorway, and my entire body locks up, fear streaming down my spine. I push up on my elbow, looking at Kal as he leans against the doorway, a martini glass filled with a red liquid in hand.
Just the sight of his devilishly handsome face causes my stomach to flutter, and I swallow over the lump that forms, blocking all coherent thought.
“Talking to yourself again?” he asks, entering the room, setting the glass down on the shelf above the bed. For several seconds, he doesn’t make a move to get in the bed with me, and apprehension floods my psyche, making me wonder how much he heard.
“I’m great company,” I say, lifting one shoulder so it’s outside the blankets.
“Can’t argue with that.” Reaching up, he grabs the drink again, holding it out to me. “I had Marcelline make this. Thought it might help with your apparent fear of planes. Don’t ask what’s in it, because I have no idea, except I told her to use pomegranate syrup.”
Eyeing the drink, I arch an eyebrow. “You keep pomegranate syrup stocked on your jet?”
“I do now.” His gaze doesn’t waver from mine; it’s strong, bold, daring. Everything I’ve always wanted to believe myself to be, he manifests without even seeming to try.
“You know I’m not twenty-one yet, right?” I joke, tension thick in the air between us.
“Age, I do defy thee,” he says, Shakespeare rolling off his tongue as he gestures for me to take the glass. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s done it, or if he even notices the way it changes the atmosphere and rewrites the coding of my DNA.
Maybe he’s just so used to quoting poems to me that it doesn’t taste any different falling from his lips now. Maybe he doesn’t mean anything by it.
Heart in my throat, pulsing until I can feel nothing else, I take the drink from his hand and sip. As the cool, sweet liquid glides down, cooling me where his gaze makes me warm, I know.
In the pit of my stomach, in the fabric of my soul, I know.
I’m in love with my husband.
* * *
When we land in Boston,I’m not expecting every news camera in the city to be waiting at the airport gates, desperate to get an exclusive first look at the girl kidnapped by Doctor Death.
I don’t know why—maybe because the people in Aplana didn’t seem to care, or believe the story—but it certainly never crossed my mind that people would be salivating to hear my side of it.
Kal follows me down the plane stairs, sticking close to my side as we’re greeted immediately by a security team. The one in front, with a neck as thick as a tree trunk and olive skin, nods at Kal when we approach.
Cameras flash from behind the glass windows, making me a little dizzy even as I keep my gaze trained on my shoes. For the first time since leaving Boston, I’m wearing pink Louboutins, paired with a black Givenchy lace and velvet minidress I’d never have dared wear while under my parents’ roof.
Or with Mateo, considering the top is sheer and the skirt barely grazes mid-thigh. He’d have considered that an invitation.
Half of me had been expecting Kal to balk at the attire, or at least try to get beneath it, but when I came out of the jet’s bathroom, he’d barely noticed the change at all.
“Best course of action is to just take her straight on through,” the security guard is saying. “There’s an SUV waiting for you in the parking lot, and it’s scheduled to take you right to the Riccis’ home front.”
I blink up at Kal. “We’re going to my parents’ first?”
He looks at me quizzically. “Of course. That’s the entire reason we flew in.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, a swarm taking flight all at once. I wrap my arms around it, trying to ignore the sensation.
Kal’s features harden, and he asks for a second alone. “Elena. What is it?”
