Dark Control (Dark Dominance 1)

“Your father owns the largest airline in the world. Don’t you have access to airport computers and travel records, maybe rental car records?”

He shook his head. “Not really. They encrypt that shit. You’ll have to go higher than me, friend. Know anyone at the CIA? If you say she’s a terrorist, they’ll find her for you real quick.”

“It’s not funny.” I scowled at him. “I need to find her.”

“Why?” He sat back in his chair and fixed me with a look. “You had her and decided you didn’t want her. She was too much for you, and you left her. The romance is over, and I doubt she’d have you back.”

“I lied to her.” I admitted it through clenched teeth. “I said I didn’t love her, but I think I do.”

“You think?” He shifted forward again. “Jesus, you’re an idiot. I knew you loved her that night you dragged me to that fucking art opening. Why else would I go to some wacko artist’s show, except to see the woman who finally captured Fort St. Clair’s heart?”

I took a deep drink of my beer, subduing the urge to pound my head against the scarred wood tabletop in front of us. “It doesn’t matter now. She won’t believe me if I tell her that I…I need her.”

“That you love her,” he said in a mocking tone. “You might as well get used to saying the words, especially if you want her to give you another chance. That one’s going to want to hear it all the fucking time.”

“Don’t roll your eyes,” I snapped.

“Are you going to tell her you love her all the fucking time?” he snapped back at me. “Are you sure this is what you want? Because I won’t let you hurt that woman again.”

“What are you now, her protector? You?”

His harsh blue gaze came near to incinerating me. “Yes. You know how it is, Fort. I just want you to follow the rules.”

I collapsed back with a sigh. “I don’t know the rules in this case. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I need her in my life, so I’m going to have to figure this out.”

Devin watched me for a moment, then rolled his eyes to the sky. “Go home and pack your shit, idiot. I know where Juliet is. I know because I flew her there a couple weeks ago, after she came to me for advice on where to go.”

“Juliet came to you?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, she trusts me for some reason. Maybe because I helped her when you had a lame-ass breakdown and lost your shit.”

“Did you… Did she…?”

He laughed, loudly this time. “Did the two of us hook up? Not a fucking chance. She’s in love with you, too.” He drained his beer and banged the glass down on the table with a frown. “I don’t know exactly where she is, but I can fire up the jet and take you as far as the airport she flew into. If you really want her, you’ll have to find her yourself.”

“I’ll find her.”

“You better be worth her love,” he said with lingering threat in his voice. It would have scared me if I wasn’t so sure of my feelings. “You better treat her right this time. Only the good kind of hurt.”

“Only the good kind of hurt,” I agreed. “Let me know when you’re sober enough to fly. I’m going home to pack.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Juliet

I stretched and looked at myself in the mirror, my pale cheeks caressed by Tuscan sunlight. The old woman who ran this bed and breakfast said I was too pale, and always tried to feed me the “very freshest milk.” I suspected it might have come from the goats who roamed her small farm, so I declined. She also gave me “virgin’s water” to restore my eyes, which were often more red than blue these days. I didn’t know where the “virgin’s water” came from but I splashed it in my eyes anyway.

I studied them afterward, squinting in the mirror. Was my vision clearer? Were my eyes more open than they’d been before I came to this rural Italian paradise?

I wasn’t sure.

I made my bed and picked up the beaded sandals I’d bought in Cascina’s artisan marketplace, now that the March rains had let up. I stuck my head out the window to gauge the weather. The morning chill had worn off, and thin wisps of clouds blew across an otherwise sunny sky. Later, I’d stroll down the path to Santo Stefano, a nearby hamlet where theoretical physicists scanned for gravitational waves and astronomical anomalies. It wasn’t potential energy, but extraterrestrial phenomena.

I wondered if Fort knew anything about gravitational waves.

Even an ocean away, he affected me, his gravitational waves buffeting my soul. I thought of him mostly at night, in the dark and stars, as I fingered my engraved-lock necklace and wondered where we’d gone so wrong. During the day I explored museums and sat outside cafes, becoming one with my sun-drenched surroundings, trying to reinvent myself just as Goodluck was reinventing his apartment. Reds and oranges, rising from the ashes…

I walked down the hall to Signora d’Averio’s rustic kitchen and accepted a breakfast of tea and cranberry-walnut scones. They tasted fresh and warm.

“Oh, Juliet,” she said in her thick country accent. “Someone has come. I told him—” She gestured aggressively. “I told him wait outside.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t remember name. Someone who asks for you. I wouldn’t let him in. He has…dark eyes.”

For a moment, just a moment, I’d let myself imagine that Fort had come for me, that he’d realized he loved me after all and couldn’t live without me. But my visitor couldn’t be Fort, because his eyes weren’t dark. They were hazel-gold, intense as the sun outside. I didn’t know who else it might be. Devin didn’t have dark eyes either, and I hadn’t met many local men. I’d kept to myself since I’d come here, nursing my wounds, thinking about love, and why my relationships always went wrong.

“He’s out there, out in the garden,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the distance. “I send him away?”

“No, it’s all right.”

I picked up my sandals and crossed from the kitchen to the large, open foyer of her country house. I could see her visitor through the window, see dark, curling hair and a physical stance I remembered.

My breath caught. Fort was here.

The gravitational waves had brought him after all. I remembered how dark his eyes could look when he frowned, and understood why Signora d’Averio had perceived them that way. Even from a distance, I could see his serious expression.

I stood where I was, staring out the window, trying to figure out my feelings, trying to figure out the breathless hatred and excitement I experienced at the same time. Even though he’d devastated me and ripped my heart out, I’d wanted him to come and admit that he was wrong, and that he cared for me despite all evidence to the contrary.

I walked outside, conscious of each step I took toward him, conscious of the many ways I’d changed, and the ways I hadn’t changed at all. I still wanted him to love me. My heart still surged with emotion when he turned to me. Our eyes locked.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you find me?”

I sounded a little heated. He looked defensive, or worried. He clasp

ed his hands together, looking me up and down. “Devin flew me as far as Pisa. After that…well, I visited hotels and art galleries, and asked questions in bad Italian until someone could tell me where the wild-haired American woman was.”

I put a hand to my unstyled mop. “How persistent of you.”

“Are you still angry with me?” he asked. “I deserve it. I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t stay away.”

It was my turn to rake my eyes over my ex-lover. He seemed achingly at home in the rustic surroundings, with his ebony hair and olive-toned skin.

Signora d’Averio stuck her head out the front door and yelled something in Italian. I waved to let her know I was okay. She waved a hand and disappeared, as I thought, Am I really okay?

“I’m glad to see you,” I admitted, “although I don’t want to be. You’ve always made me feel things I don’t want to feel.”

“Juliet…” He sighed, his eyes narrowing a little. “Right back at you. You make me feel too much. But I’m here anyway, because I need to talk to you.”

“Well…” I pointed down the shaded path to the signora’s vineyards. “I was just going to take a walk.”

“Can I come with you?”

“I guess.”

We set out, potential energy turned to kinetic energy. He asked polite questions. How long had I been here? How many people had I met? Did I plan to leave and visit other areas of the world?

The first two questions were easy, but the last one made me realize just how untethered I’d become. Was I going to stay here? Go home? Go somewhere else and hope it was as idyllic as this place? Was I going to fall in love with someone in another country, considering my job and my friends were back in New York?

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said.

I looked sideways at him, at long legs and strong arms beneath a white linen shirt. His strength and stature reminded me of his power and the way it had changed me…at least for a little while.

“Why are you here?” I asked. “Why did you make the effort to find me after the way you left things?”