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Blackmail, burglary, and bad press, not bodily harm, are the only risks my family has had to deal with to date—until the kidnapping threat against Virginia. Although no risk is ever zero, worrying about a sniper with a chopper is insignificant, even given my perhaps excessive vigilance when it comes to personal safety.
“While we’re here this week, I’d like you to look around and make a note of actions you’d take to ensure the security of that house and the people in it.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Now, since we know there is no threat between this cliff and the main trail, I want your best race back.”
“With pleasure, sir.” He smiles as if he’s already kicked my ass.
36. Virginia
THE GRASS IS GREENER
The tension between what I need (a life with my feet on actual ground) and what I want (a life with Will) has only gotten worse, to the point where I feel like I have to give up one since this half-measure of a future as nothing more than Will’s friend and still spending eight hours a day in a climate-controlled high-rise is killing me.
I have a new understanding of why Will felt so desperate when I met him. It wasn’t just the knowledge that every Will Power before him died too young, it’s the actual environment he’s confined himself to for so many years. Though he doesn’t believe it, his soul needs fresh air, sunshine, the risk of a thorn under his skin, and the reward of successfully beating nature, even in a small way.
I expected him to call last night, to let me know he’d safely landed in Italy, but my phone never rang. I debated texting Colt at nine p.m., and decided not to. But at eleven, and still not able to sleep, not knowing if Will was OK, I sent a quick message.
Colt replied immediately, calling Will an asshat for being so inconsiderate. He assured me Will was fine—for now—and that once he got home, he’d kick his ass for making me worry.
That was sweet. And weird, since Colt and I don’t have much of a relationship outside of the times we’ve spent together with Will.
My phone pings with a text from an unknown number while I’m repotting a prickly pear cactus on the fifth floor of the Power building.
WILL
Hey, Virginia. It’s Will. I put my phone down and someone walked away with it. This is my temporary new number. Sorry I made you worry. Wish you were here. XO
My heart does a happy dance. Over the last few days since Will left Copenhagen, his messages have been clipped. He’s stopped signing off with a kiss and a hug. I know it’s lame, but those two letters, the x and o, gave me a tiny bit of hope that Will and I might be able to figure out how to make a relationship work. Losing them felt like a decision on his part to not try.
I start to type a reply and stop dead. I’m supposed to report any unusual calls or messages to Aziz or Bruce. A text from an unknown number, claiming to be Will, might be considered unusual. I dial Aziz and leave a non-urgent message for him.
I stare at Will’s words, itching to reply, but knowing I shouldn’t. I know phone technology is far more advanced than I understand, and replying might tell this Will character exactly where I am. I’m not going to be the idiot girl who runs into the woods to get away from the ax murderer. I carry on with my job, checking my phone every ten minutes to see if I’ve missed a message.
Two hours later, it rings.
“Virginia. I was going to call you,” Aziz says.
“Oh. Why?” My stomach drops, expecting bad news since in the month Aziz has been protecting me, he’s never called.
“The person of interest who was a possible kidnapping threat has been apprehended. The authorities have no reason to believe you’re at any more risk than you were prior to this blackmail attempt.”
“That’s amazing.” I lean against the windowed wall, and exhale tension I didn’t even realize I was holding. “Who was it? How were they found? Were they serious?”
“I can’t answer any of those questions. I was debriefed with only enough information to do my job—and to be confident that I can stop being your personal bodyguard. I imagine if you want details, you’ll be able to get them from one of the Powers.”
Of course, I’m thrilled to hear this news. But I’m also a bit sad, realizing that in a few days when my contract to care for the plants in the Will Power Industries building expires, I’ll have no more reasons to run into Will.
The mixture of relief and grief hit me like a falling oak tree.
Tim-berrrr.
I slide down the wall till I hit the floor. I clench my jaw to keep my emotions from escaping.
“Virginia? You still there?”
“Yup,” I squeak out.
