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It didn’t matter it was all a lie.
It didn’t matter we both knew something would have to break and soon.
All that mattered was spending the day together, swimming with dolphins, believing in magic, and forgetting that love could cause the worst pain of all.
Chapter Nineteen
______________________________
Elder
FOUR THINGS HAPPENED that night.
First, I somehow managed to keep my dick in my pants while Pim and I finished swimming with the damn dolphins and returned the Viperfish to its garage. I had the self-control of a monk as I invited her to a quiet dinner beneath the stars as Jolfer set us back on course. We hardly said a word, but that wasn’t the point. The point was proving to myself that I could be in her presence—even sex-infused and addiction-infested—and not give in.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, and I enlisted every trick imaginable, but I managed to come across sane…I think.
One, two, three taps of my knife.
One, two, three scrunches of my napkin.
One, two, three breaths before answering any of her softly murmured questions.
Second thing that happened that night—after a strained but survived dinner—I created her a dolphin out of a hundred dollar bill, quickly bringing the total of origami animals closer to a thousand in cash value. She watched me silently as my fingers creased and folded, accepting my gift with a heart-pounding smile.
Third, I walked her back to her room after dessert of raspberry cheesecake, keeping my hands, lips, and cock to myself as we traversed the deck beneath the Milky Way and entered the elevator side by side. I almost broke every finger from clenching my fists so hard with self-restraint, but I managed to escort her to her door and bow respectfully as she entered her room.
I didn’t try to kiss her.
I didn’t try to spend the night with her.
I managed to remain in control.
And fourth, when I entered my lonely quarters, and all I could think about was returning to Pim, I rolled a joint and pulled my cello from its home in the cupboard. With smoke stinging my eyes and drug-fake peace circulating through my blood, I placed my fingers on the frets and played.
I played soft.
I played loud.
I alternated between traditional classical and self-composed metal.
I created music until my joint was nothing but ash and my fingers bordered on splitting. My bow once again was shredded. And my eyes strained from staring at the door, begging for a midnight visitor.
Pim might have a lock on her door, but I didn’t. And instead of hoping she’d stay away, I spent the night begging her to come find me. In the midst of the song, I imagined her walking in dressed in a nightgown which fell from her body the moment she saw me. I hung onto the fantasy of her crossing the room, unperturbed by my music to sit on my lap, kiss me, and beg me to make love to her.
But she never came.
And I never went to see if her lock was engaged.
By the time I fell asleep and woke to dawn, I had a few emails to attend to from the warehouse and a couple of new enquiries requesting a consultation at the Hawk Masquerade. Turned out my attending that inconvenient affair had already circulated and the unwanted night’s entertainment would be profitable indeed.
Which I was thankful for as it was my six month mark. My next payment to my debt was due, and I had every intention of paying it. Even though the man I paid didn’t know me. Even though he had no clue how or why the money mysteriously entered his bank account.
Watching from afar, I’d witnessed my first righteous human when that initial instalment appeared in his account. Instead of staying quiet like greed demanded and claiming it as his own without knowing if it was true, he contacted the police to inform them of an incorrect deposit.
A deposit from an encrypted account in Monte Carlo valued at thirty million dollars.
I’d ensured his name, address, and phone number were listed on the transfer, so no one could doubt it was meant for him. For the reference number, all I’d put was…’from someone who owes you more than you know.’
The first instalment had been the smallest but the hardest. If it had been up to me, that amount would’ve had an extra zero attached. But Selix had forbidden it. He’d spoken sense at the time, so I’d settled with thirty instead of three hundred—hoping to buy off my never-ending guilt one repayment at a time.
Every six months since then, I paid another sum—always bigger than the first, steadily multiplying—forever working to the final tally I owed.
“Phone call for you.” My intercom buzzed, allowing Selix’s voice to interrupt my thoughts.
It was almost noon, and I’d been sketching a few amendments on Alrik’s (now Pim’s) yacht to ensure the build team got it perfect. I’d also been poring over nautical maps, both digital and paper, to figure out if and when the Chinmoku would make their stand.
