A change of plans is in order.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Mariana nods her head and then leaves the room, after which I stand from my desk and straighten my jacket.
“Where are you going?” Z asks.
“The island.”
“Why? Because she isn’t eating. If you go, you are playing into her hand.”
“Be that as it may, I’m going.”
“It’s a bad idea. Why don’t you just let me make the phone call? The longer you hold her, the bigger the risk to you. Let’s tell Boris we have her . . .”
I halt my steps and turn around. “I’ll let you speak out of turn this one time because I know that you think you are looking out for me, but remember your place, Z.”
He nods his head, but his words still ring through my mind. I know what he wants me to do.
“This will start a war when it gets out. We can use this to our advantage now,” he states, and I consider his words.
“War is already upon us. It has been for years. Ever since . . .” I stop myself, not wanting to feel weak.
“So then let’s use her. You could have her by your side at the next poker game, he’s sure to come out of hiding if he hears that.”
“No.”
I know Z feels loyal to me, protective even, and I know he thinks this plan is our best option, but I disagree.
I watch as he opens his mouth and shuts it. “You know, boss, after what you did for me . . .” His words trail off. He is referring to helping him get back on his feet by giving him a job and mission in life after he too lost someone he cared about like I had. It bonded us, the loss. We were both alone in the world with no direction. I gave us both a common goal. Ever since then, Z has been by my side. I know he has my best interests at heart, and normally, I would agree, but not this time.
He’s overstepped, and he knows it. Without another word, I head toward the docks. Time to see what my little prisoner is doing.
The small boat is ready to go in no time with Maxwell at the helm. It doesn’t take long to get there.
“Do you want me to wait?” Maxwell asks.
No one knows about this island, but I can’t take any chances now that Boris wants her.
“Offshore. Not visible.”
“Got it, boss.”
Stepping on to the dock, I make my way through the path up to the estate. When I open the door, I’m not sure where I’ll find her. I’m actually surprised when I hear her padding down the stairs.
Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she has a tight-fitting sweater on that she must have found in one of the drawers.
She looks younger today, but when our gazes pass, I know it’s all an illusion. She is still the headstrong and brave woman I have come to admire.
I wouldn’t tell her that, but in the time she’s been here, I have to admit she’s not at all like I thought she would be.
“You won’t eat.”
Her full pink lips part and then spread into a large smile.
“So, she does talk. What language?”
I ignore her question. “Enough of the shit, Sun. You will eat.”
She looks at me confused by the nickname, and I expect her to ask, but instead she puffs out her chest, and I can’t help but look at their full shape under the tight-fitting gear. Her back is straight, and I can tell she is trying to be tough. Good fight. I like that.
“No,” she says.
“Very well, I guess I have no choice but to make you.”
Her eyes go wide, bulging from the sockets. In all the times I’ve seen her, she’s never looked as shocked as she does now. Which, seeing as she orchestrated this whole thing, is not expected. However, as much as I want to read into it, she pulls herself together faster than a race car driver on the last lap of a race, schooling her features and placing her hands on her hips.
“Or” —she cocks her head— “you can let me go.”
“Any other requests?”
“You dead.” She shrugs.
“That would leave you in a predicament. I’d be dead, and then you would die here too.”
Like a blazing inferno doused by a fire hydrant, she sizzles. It’s true. I die; she dies.
“Come with me.”
My demand should squash her remaining defiance, but instead, in typical Ivy fashion, she responds, “No.”
I move toward her, towering over her small and lithe frame. “I said move.”
Then off I go, prowling to the kitchen, and shockingly, she follows.
“Sit.” I point at the table, and once she is sitting, I go to the fridge and grab a container. “Eat.”
She doesn’t move to follow my orders. She doesn’t do much of anything. Staring at me with hatred in her eyes, she commences a silent battle of wills.