Home.
What an odd concept. After this meeting, I would return home with a girl in tow who was still a total stranger.
As the last round of drinks was delivered, Pim’s gaze trailed over her shoulder, looking for a washroom.
Dina noticed. “They’re toward the back.”
Pim smiled, standing gracefully. Dina and Simo’s eyes tracked over her, noticing things they hadn’t when we’d first arrived—the fading bruises, the bandage on her hand, the skinniness of her arms and chest.
My hands fisted. Would they think I’d done that? That I was a psychopath who kept girls as pets?
Dina narrowed her eyes, judging my relationship with Pim from the small distance between us.
Pissed off with her scrutiny, I cocked my head at Selix to escort Pim to the facilities—not to prevent her from running, but to guard her. In her notes to No One, she said she was sold at a shabby hotel with a masquerade ball.
But how was she originally kidnapped? Was the tale true that she was at a charity function with her mother or had she been stolen by less refined means?
Selix stepped forward to collect her, but Dina stood. “You know, I might go too.”
She and Pim shared a smile.
What is it with women and joint bathroom visits?
Selix caught my eye, asking if he should still follow.
I nodded subtly. He could protect from outside the bathroom while the two women protected each other inside.
Dina moved toward Pim then blew her husband a kiss.
Simo grinned before turning his attention to the latest amendment to his yacht. Meanwhile, I couldn’t tear my fucking eyes off Pim as she padded across the restaurant in her floaty dress and sandals.
It was no secret I found Pim bloody stunning. Her nose, her eyes, her chin, her strength—she equalled a beautiful woman. Having the luxury of gawking at her ass and the flamingo-like curve of her spine made me hard.
“Women, huh?” Simo chuckled. “They cause the worst pain and the best pleasure.”
I gave half a smile. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh?”
“I’m only taking care of her from an unfortunate incident.”
Simo took a sip of his wine. “I must admit, I was doing my best not to ask who marked her.”
I snorted, taking his direction and throwing a mouthful of guava juice down my throat. Wine was not an option. Alcohol had the opposite effect on me than cannabis. “Would you continue to deal with me if I said I was the one?”
“No.” His face locked into place. “But I don’t believe you did.”
“Why?” My eyebrows rose, asking a dangerous question. “I already said we aren’t lovers, and you most likely have suspicions of my intentions with her.”
Why am I having this conversation with a royal?
It wasn’t possible I wanted to clear my name rather than be sullied by his opinion. It didn’t matter to me.
Simo patted his son’s head who currently had crayon all over the tablecloth. “A man who glowers at a woman the way you do her…she’s the one hurting you. Not the other way around.”
Words flew from my head. For the first time in forever, I was speechless.
Simo continued. “I believe there are many kinds of men. My second cousin, the king, is one type—a possession to his beloved country. I am another type—a possession to the woman I married. And then, there is you.” He looked up, stealing the crayon from his son.
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “And what kind am I?”
He grinned wisely. “You, my friend, are homeless. You are neither owned by a country or a woman. It is a place not many men can survive in for long.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My heart fell into my stomach, hissing with acid. Homeless. Familyless. Even Selix—after our years on the streets together—didn’t know the truth about me. How had this royal looked through my façade and understood?
He waved his hand as if he hadn’t just torn apart my fucking life. “I have a question if I may. It doesn’t relate to boat building.” His face softened. “However, after the personal conversation we just had, I don’t think it’s too inappropriate to ask.”
I ran a hand through my hair. I’d been in control of this meeting, and now, I was on the back foot. That had never happened to me. Ever. Part of me wanted to tell him to shove his question up his ass, but my lips moved with permission. “Ask.”
“Great.” He opened his arms as his daughter grew tired and climbed onto his lap. “I’ve heard rumours about you.”
My back instantly hardened.
There were too many rumours to know which one he’d heard. Some, I’d started. Some, I wanted to end. Most of them were terrible—designed to keep me feared and free.
“Oh?”
“I heard you have a gift.”
I choked on another mouthful of guava. “Excuse me?”
“A gift. It’s why you build impeccable yachts. It’s why you’re so wealthy. It’s why you have many talents, I am sure.”