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He and I had gravitated to each other after that, united in our loss. Ry became my shadow, his loyalty never wavering as I made something of myself. A silent sentinel as my wealth grew. I’d isolated myself after Asher died, shutting everyone except for Flynn out.
He’d been my childhood best friend, and we’d never give each other up.
School hadn’t been the dream for us that everyone makes it out to be. The only reason I’d survived high school was Mr Vella, my maths teacher. There was no fucking Pink Ladies and “Grease Lightnin’” for me. It had been vicious—mean girls, and boys who wanted one thing only.
They got what they wanted most of the time.
Not because I wanted anything delusional like their love, but to feel something. To wield a power over them with my body. I wanted them brought to their knees because of me, even if it took me being on mine.
I’d tried to conform, to become the good girl the school expected, all the while servicing half the male population of the school. But the whole time I’d tried fitting into someone else’s skin, I’d been quietly dying inside. The bullying turned into slut-shaming, and I’d snapped. Queen reared her head and shouted from the rooftops.
Fuck them and their small-minded views.
Fuck their righteousness and their judgement.
The pieces then started falling into place. I didn’t need them. I didn’t need their toxicity or their jealousy.
I started living as Queen.
Flynn had stood beside me, his chin up, defiantly ignoring the haters. Ryder had flanked my other side, beating to a pulp anyone who side-eyed me.
I’d made my first million while they were still hanging pictures of boy bands on their walls, my first half-billion before I was even an adult.
Mr Vella was the only reason I’d stayed. The only reason I hadn’t chucked school. He’d given me the chance to reinvent myself in front of their eyes. He’d demanded that I accept nothing less than their respect.
I added the requirement for awe.
When I’d graduated, I flipped those fuckers the bird before getting into the silver Ferrari I’d bought for Flynn as a graduation present and leaving them in our dust.
Neither of us had ever looked back.
Now I had control. I chose who got near to me. I chose who I spoke to and when. My inner circle were the only people who had free access.
On a planet of eight billion people, I could count on one hand the number of people I trusted. Ry and Flynn had pride of place at the top, second only to Dad.
“Jesus, Zali. Cutting it a bit fine,” Ry scolded as I took off my mask, and then he relieved me of it and my speargun before wrapping a thick white towel around my shoulders. He slipped the bag off my wrist while I remained silent, lifting my chin defiantly and narrowing my eyes at him. He liked to act as if he was in charge, but we both knew the truth.
Ryder locked my weapon in the storage cupboard and called, “Flynn, catch,” as he tossed the fish to the deck above. His words took me aback. I hadn’t even realized we had company. Flicking my gaze to the stern, I spied my runabout moored to the yacht. That little boat was one of my best investments.
With it, I got to see my oldest friend whenever he could make it between his non-stop schedule of classes and two part-time jobs. I was rarely docked at a marina, so Flynn just puttered out to us.
I looked up at his angel-like form leaning against the railing of the deck above us. His mop of blond hair was haloed by the sun while his shirt flapped in the breeze. I smiled my first genuine smile in days. I loved that boy so hard.
I could have done without the company he’d brought though. But at least Ezra, my police handler, was fun to torment. Giving them a two-finger wave, I tugged off my fins and rolled my eyes when Ezra looked away. He cleared his throat and discreetly stepped behind one of the lounge chairs while Flynn reached into the bag he’d caught and fumbled the fish, dropping it on the deck as soon as he’d lifted it out.
“Let’s get you dry,” Ryder muttered, shaking his head, still unimpressed with my close encounter of the shark kind. He knew I took calculated risks, but every time I did it, he was furious.
He tugged the towel across my naked body, covering me up. It was sweet, in a way, like he actually wanted to protect my virtue. I didn’t give a shit about artificial shame-driven concepts like that, but it was cute that he tried.
Ry rubbed my arms in quick, rough strokes with the towel, warming me up as well. Moving his big hands to my back and drying so he could dry me there, he pulled me against his chest, and I relaxed into his hold.
Standing this close, his heat radiated into me. My nipples pebbled at his proximity, gooseflesh prickling my skin. He looked down at me, his hazel eyes flashing with satisfaction when I met his stare. Wearing a smirk and nothing but his usual uniform of boardies, he was beautiful. Taller than me by a full head and a half, he had that broody and handsome vibe down pat. Broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist with a perfect six-pack from being active all day, he was utterly lickable. But even though I was easy, our relationship had never taken that turn. He probably thought of me as his little sister—he certainly treated me like one, getting all pissy and admonishing me as you would a child. I rarely let him get away with it, but this time I knew it would frustrate him more if I acted unaffected.
“Get dressed, Zali. We have company,” he chided as he gripped my arms and stepped back, holding me away from him.
This time he was pushing his luck.
I smiled sweetly—the same sort of smile a wolf gives to a lamb—and slid the towel off my shoulders. Getting grim satisfaction from the way his jaw ticked despite eying me with cool detachment, I took my time scrunching my waist-length hair dry. Sauntering up the steps, I dragged the towel along the deck in my wake. I greeted my sweet friend with a genuine, bone-crushing hug before turning my attention to Detective Fraser. If Flynn was light and laughter, and Ryder was dark and stormy, Ezra oozed sex. Golden skin and hair the colour of caramel with bedroom eyes in the darkest of browns, Ezra Fraser was gorgeous. Even though he was thirty-seven, he didn’t look a day over twenty-five. The man should have been a model, not a detective with the Australian Federal Police.
