The Stars We Steal

by Alexa Donne

  “Did he? Lukas has been pretty pushy with you all night,” she said. “I should have been there.” Then she enveloped me in a hug, which at first I found confusing but then melted into. It was exactly what I needed.

  “I think I just need to go to bed, but I don’t want to leave Carina.”

  “Carina? I don’t want to leave you! We need to decompress a bit, I think. Hold on.”

  Evgenia disappeared into the crowd, which had grown considerably since we’d arrived, and I hung back in the shadows to wait for her. Then Klara clopped by in her heels, probably on her way back from the bathroom. Remembering that I needed to talk to her, I called her over.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I asked the question that had been bugging me all evening. “You went from zero to sixty with Elliot. It’s a little weird.”

  “Why is it weird?” Her words were a little too loud and enunciated. She’d had too much to drink.

  “Well, he’s my ex, for one,” I continued against my better judgment. “And you didn’t even want to go to the Valg a week ago, and now you’re all in and gunning for him, of all people. Not being subtle about it, either.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh, like I was such a bother to her. “Leo, he doesn’t even like you anymore. You said so yourself to me.”

  I stammered incoherently, rendered speechless by her throwing my own words back at me.

  “You know how hard it is to find a guy who’s nice, pretty solid all around. Not trying to use me for my family name. I need this.”

  “But why Elliot? And who’s to say he wouldn’t use you? He’s pretty political.”

  “He runs his own business. We’d be on equal footing.”

  “I cannot believe you.”

  My cousin merely shrugged. “Would you rather have him land with your sister? I saw you losing your mind at dinner.” Klara was sharper than I’d given her credit for.

  “I—” There was no good way to follow on that.

  Evgenia picked that moment to return, her satisfied look melting into one of concern at the sight of us. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” Klara chirped, promptly swanning off and leaving me wholly unsatisfied.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “Well, I’ve got it all sorted,” she said, forging on. “I’m taking you home with me, and Nora will make sure Carina gets back to your place safe and snug and a bit more sober. I instructed Elliot to start feeding her water, and scolded him soundly for not yet having done so.”

  “Wait, what do you mean by ‘taking me home with you’?” I asked.

  “We’re going to have a sleepover. Girls’ night. You and me.”

  “Aren’t we too old for that?”

  “Never!” Evgenia hooked her arm through mine and started pulling me toward the door before I could protest further.

  Eleven

  The club was located aft near the docking area, so it took only a few minutes to get home. Proper home, the one I almost missed; Sofi welcomed us with her aging chrome and dim lighting.

  “Now, I think you actually would know the best sleeping arrangements in this case,” Evgenia said as we got to her room. Well, Carina’s room. “Are there spare linens so you can kip on the floor? Do you want to crash in a spare room? Are there any?”

  There were the staff quarters, which I had no desire to revisit, let alone sleep in. My choices there were limited to Elliot’s old room, his father’s quarters, or a couch in the crew mess. No, thank you. And the Orlovs, plus Elliot, were using all the viable bedrooms. While there were additional quarters tucked away from when the Kolburg family was a bit more generous, allowing a cousin or three on board, I’d decommissioned them years ago to save energy resources. Opening them up, making the beds, heating them . . . it wasn’t worth the hassle, and I wasn’t in the right state to manage it, anyway. The floor looked great.

  “I’ll grab a spare duvet and pillow,” I said, leaving Evgenia and heading on instinct down the hall from Carina’s room to mine, where I kept extra bedding.

  I crammed my fingers against the bio-lock, fumbling the first time and missing a finger—I clearly was still a bit tipsy—and then autopilot carried me across the room, past my inviting bed, to my closet. Another bio-lock there—an extra layer of security I added to keep Father and Carina out—and I walked inside. I stopped short, frowning at the space that used to hold my dresses now full of trousers, shirts, and waistcoats. A fresh wave of mortification rolled over me that Elliot was sleeping in my room, had access to my things. I checked my underwear drawer, just for good measure. Empty. I was being silly. I shook it off, turning and going a few more steps in to the back shelf where I kept the linens.

  On my way out, I had a thought. There was no way Evgenia had any sleepwear that would fit me, the dress tonight a fluke of generous draping. I chucked the bedding out into the bedroom proper and pulled a simple sleep dress from a drawer. Now to get out of this dress . . .

  I never felt better removing the stupid slip, dumping it on top of the silk dress, and standing still a minute to let the cool air dry the sweat that had pooled around my chest and lower-back areas. Then I stepped out of my low heels and went to unhook my bustier.

  “Scheisse!”

  I whipped around at the voice behind me.

  Elliot stood at the door, his mouth agape.

  “What are you doing here?” I screeched, holding the sleep dress over the front of my body, though it covered very little. He’d certainly gotten an eyeful of me in my underwear. Elliot’s back was turned now, anyway.

  “What are you doing here?” he shot back accusingly.

  “I’m sleeping in Evgenia’s room. I came to get sheets.”

  “And undress?”

  “It is my room,” I sniped back.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” Elliot insisted. I looked down at the crumpled slip and dress. No way was I putting them back on. Fine, we’d do this the annoying way.

  “Don’t turn around,” I instructed with a huff, turning my own back for good measure while I contorted my arms around to unhook my bustier. Once I had it off, I threw it on top of everything else and pulled my nightie on as fast as I could. I hated how skimpy it was, but my modest pajamas were with the rest of my things on the Scandinavian. It was as if fate had manufactured this moment to be as embarrassing as possible.

  Gathering up the discarded clothes in my arms, shoes hanging from my thumbs, I moved back out into the room, stepping around Elliot. He stood still as a statue but swiveled his head around to me, then darted his eyes down at the floor.

  “You’ve, uh, grown a bit since you last wore that, I think,” he said, his tone holding a hint of amusement.

  “It’s the only one left here,” I grumbled, pulling awkwardly at the tight fabric catching on my too-wide hips. There was nothing to be done for the strain in the bust area. Nudging the fabric in any direction would be disastrous. “Teasing me isn’t very nice.”

  “It’s better than yelling?”

  I remembered the duvet, sheets, and pillows, pooled near his feet. Utterly gracelessly I bent down, holding everything tight against my body like a shield.

  “It’s safe to look now,” I informed him, and finally he pulled his focus from the floor. Then he laughed at me again.

  “You know it’s kind of ridiculous, considering I’ve seen everything before.”

  I suffered a full-body flush at the implication. “Yeah, well, those privileges have been revoked. And on that note, I don’t need you to defend my honor. Lukas didn’t even do anything.”

  “It didn’t look that way to me.”

  “I had it handled,” I huffed. “And now everyone is going to talk about how you got into a fistfight with him over me.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Does what bother me?”

  “That people might talk about us.” Elliot dropped his voice low and took a step toward me.

  I might as well have chu
cked the duvet and stripped off the ill-fitting nightie—I felt naked anyway. I writhed under his stare. “You’re still drunk,” I blurted. “I think you have me confused for the wrong sister. Good night.”

  And then I left.

  * * *

  “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Evgenia remarked when I returned. She tilted her head and squinted in assessment. “And you’re . . . really pissed off about it? What did I miss?”

  “I’m mad at myself for being completely useless,” I said, too keyed up to lie. “Elliot walked in on me practically naked, and then I think we were flirting with each other, but then I reminded him how he’s interested in my sister.” I worked consciously to stop scowling. It took several tries to unclench my jaw.

  Head righted, now Evgenia’s perfectly groomed brow disappeared up into her fringe. “And why were you practically naked?”

  I dropped the duvet, sheets, and pillow to the floor.

  “Ah, I see. Cute nightie.” She hopped up from the bed, grabbing her dress and slip from me to hang them back up in the wardrobe. Then she took both hands and pulled me over to the bed. She patted beside her, directive clear: Sit. So I did.

  “Spill,” she said. “You and El have been acting incredibly odd, hostile one minute and sneaking glances at each other the next. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  “It’s . . . complicated,” I hedged, trying to buy myself a bit of time. It was, after all, true. I opened my mouth to speak, but the answer didn’t come tripping off my tongue. My tongue was weighted like a slug in my mouth, stubbornly staying put.

  Evgenia eyed me circumspectly, then said, “Let me guess: You’re utterly and terribly in love with me, right?” The joke broke the tension, and I laughed.

  “Listen, it’s—”

  “Don’t say ‘complicated’ again.”

  At this point, I’d danced around it too long and too awkwardly not to just come clean. But I’d also kept it in so long, so used to not telling anyone. Exposing myself and my pain did not come easily, but neither did new friends. Evgenia was the closest I’d had to a true, equal companionship since, well, Elliot. I took a deep breath. Finally, it tumbled out.

  “We were engaged. Technically only for twelve hours,” I quickly corrected. Eight of those hours I’d been sleeping, on cloud nine. It took only four from the moment Father found out for him to dismantle everything, with an assist from Klara and Aunt Freja.

  “Engaged! Wow, that is serious.” Evgenia frowned. “You know, that does make sense, now that I think about it. I knew he was bitter about his past here, and weird about you . . . and then there’s the whole Valg thing.” I didn’t miss the way Evgenia cringed, as if in self-censure from saying too much.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. She suddenly found her fingernails incredibly interesting. “Evy, please.”

  “It’s just that he may have mentioned to me that his plan was to hurt his ex a little, make her jealous, by participating in the Valg. I just never put it all together, that it was you. I thought Klara might be the one—”

  “Klara and Elliot?” I exploded. “No way. He was way too poor for her . . .” My mouth soured at the realization that that was no longer the case. Klara and Elliot could very well now be a union that came to fruition. He had money, and apparently she’d changed her mind about the whole marriage thing.

  “Now that I know it’s you, I’ll be smacking him fully upside the head for his idiocy. You’re amazing. And . . . wait. Wasn’t he flirting with your sister tonight?” Her mouth twisted. “Oh, Elliot, you colossal moron.”

  I barked a laugh. “Right?” Then I fully processed the implications of Evgenia’s confession. The Valg had been his plan to make me suffer. Well, he’d succeeded admirably.

  “And if I’m half as good at reading people as I know I am, you’re in no way over him. You still care.”

  I groaned. “Yes, because I’m a glutton for punishment. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “I don’t trust him. With the Freiheit hack the very night he arrived, it all seems too coincidental. He’s a pretty good hacker, and he was outside the ballroom when it happened.” I let it all out against my better judgment, realizing as I rattled on that I was too intoxicated to be having this conversation, and with Evgenia of all people. I slapped a hand over my mouth, as if to take it back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . . I know you’re his friend.” Friend, and possible accomplice, I realized. None of them had passed the background checks yet. Evgenia remembered too.

  “So that’s why there was the whole thing with the checks,” she said. “We’re not involved with that faction. Elliot didn’t help them. None of us did; I promise you that.” Evgenia worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Leo, you’re really nice, and I—” She sighed. “I had no idea you were Elliot’s target, I promise. I’m going to talk to him. He needs to stop this charade; it’s gone too far.”

  “Oh, God, no, don’t do that.” Panic shot through me. “I’d be mortified if he knew, if he thought that I was still desperately in love with him or something, and that I needed you to go to bat for me.”

  “Are you desperately in love with him?”

  She stopped me short with her question. I took a breath, ready to reply, then deflated back into the pillows for a moment to think. “I don’t know,” I said finally. It was as close as I could get to the truth that I was willing to admit to myself. My feelings for Elliot were complicated. He’d turned into a bit of a dick, but the worst parts of me loved his fire, regardless. I could give as good as he gave; as ever, we were stubbornly well-matched. I hadn’t been my best self either since his return.

  “Fine, I won’t talk to him about that,” Evgenia said, clearly not happy about it. “However, you need to talk to your sister. Or does she know that you two were engaged and you still have feelings for him, and she’s throwing herself at him, regardless?”

  “Carina knows about the relationship, not the engagement. And she thinks I’m over it. I told her I was over it,” I said. “And it’s not entirely her fault. He matched with her at speed dating. He said yes.”

  Evgenia furrowed her brow. She had no ready reply, some explanation that would excuse Elliot. “Well, you need to talk to your sister anyway. If she doesn’t back off to spare your feelings, then she’s a horrible person. Your suffering in silence is a terrible idea, and their getting married is out of the question. It’ll torture you.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her. But there’s the bigger problem of Klara,” I said, feeling my jaw lock and fighting to keep my teeth from grinding together. “She’s gunning for him too.”

  Evgenia snorted. “I could tell. She has the subtlety of a speeding meteor. You’ll have to talk to her, too, then.”

  I shook my head. “I did talk to her tonight. She said it’s really obvious he doesn’t like me anymore, so I should back off.”

  “I kind of hate her. Is that okay to say? Since she’s your cousin?”

  “Right now, I kind of hate her too,” I had to admit. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into her, to be honest. She wants to get married less than I do. Or wanted.” I exhaled heavily through my nose. “I don’t even want Elliot for myself. I’ve resigned myself to it being over. But I can’t bear her having him.”

  I ducked my head to avoid Evgenia’s piercing stare. She was calling bullshit.

  “We’re going to fix this,” Evgenia said, clapping her hands. “I will be your wing-woman. Elliot’s my friend, and you’re my friend, and frankly I am kicking myself for not seeing all of this before, because only thinking about it for two seconds, it’s supremely obvious how perfect you are for each other. Of course you were in love.”

  Were. I flinched at her use of the past tense. She noticed.

  “Oh, Leo,” she said, and then she pulled me into another well-needed hug. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. I’ll do everything short of talking to Elliot. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

  The warm circle of her ar
ms seeped into my weary bones, and a spark of hope ignited somewhere deep inside me. Maybe this was just what I needed. Someone to talk to, be honest with, who didn’t blame me and wasn’t trying to win Elliot for herself. I hugged her back and allowed my hope to burst into a raging flame.

  Twelve

  Breakfast was awkward.

  I’d pretended I hadn’t known what Elliot meant—did it bother me that people might think we had something between us? The deflection about my sister was a jab at him, a sidestep of my true feelings. But I would not expose myself, be vulnerable, especially not in light of Evgenia revealing his plans. How could I trust that his revenge scheme was over, that everything Elliot had been doing wasn’t a part of that long game? His apologies, coming to my defense, teasing me about old times. I couldn’t trust any of it.

  Elliot stared at a point just past my head, though I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to my chest every so often. Each time, he would flinch, catching himself and immediately going back to looking anywhere but at me.

  It was Evgenia’s fault. She’d insisted I come to breakfast in my too-small nightie.

  “He won’t know you have a change of clothes from yesterday,” she’d said with a sly smile, and so here I was, feeling half naked and exposed at the dining room table.

  I became very interested in my food, examining each piece of soy bacon before putting it in my mouth. I spent a full minute carefully buttering my toast. Anything to avoid conversation.

  Meanwhile, Evgenia prattled on, trying to facilitate a successful social interaction.

  “The DJ was quite good last night, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. Elliot grunted in the affirmative.

  Evgenia let out a belabored sigh.

  “I’m glad we turned in early. Good thinking, Leo,” she said. “I loathe hangovers, and I’m always drinking far past my expiration date. You turned in early too, El.”