by J Santiago
“I did. I admitted it. And I have never put you in flowers again. This is not the same. You look amazing. Perfect for a bonfire.”
Ele turned back to the mirror, giving herself a final once-over. The baby-doll dress had a modest neckline, four buttons, and cap sleeves. The skirt was flirty, hitting right above her knees. It was crazy to be this concerned about how she looked. It wasn’t her normal. But she kind of wanted to blow Tristan’s mind, even more than she was going to when she showed up at the party tonight.
When the invitation had come earlier, her first instinct had been to decline. There hadn’t been enough time to plan or to do the proper security checks. Any other impromptu outing would have sent her into nervous restlessness. Now, the fluttering in her stomach was the delicious anticipation of surprising Tristan.
Beatrix placed a delicate straw hat, decorated with a yellow-and-white ribbon, on her head. She pulled a few strands of hair loose from Ele’s messy knot, giving her a casual, wind-tossed look.
Robert cleared his throat behind her. Ele turned, and he grinned like he couldn’t contain it.
“Okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ele took a deep breath. “Run me through it.”
It was their routine. An outing merited a briefing. Ingress and egress were two terms she was intimately familiar with. But it calmed her—usually.
“Very straightforward this time. The hotel owns the beach, so we already have it within the wire. It’s been secure since we got here. We’ll take the elevator down to the ground floor. From there, we will proceed through the pool area, which has been cleared. The walk down to the beach is on a boardwalk. It’s a raised platform. The usual checks have been performed. The area is safe.”
Robert ended with that always. The area is safe.
Ele nodded, her hand landing on her stomach as she pulled in a deep breath.
They left the room, Michael joining them in the elevator. The whole way down, Ele fidgeted. The team had tied today, but they were second in their group. She hadn’t seen Tristan since the night after the second game, and getting an in-person view of him from the distance of a stadium box was hardly satisfying. It explained the sweaty palms, the jitters in her stomach.
Exiting the elevator, they followed the path Robert had painted for her earlier. As they crossed over the raised platform of the boardwalk, Ele experienced an errant desire to overtake Michael and leave her security team in the dust. The methodic, slow progress hampered her.
“Easy,” Robert warned quietly.
She shot him a look over her shoulder, not surprised by the way he sensed her impatience, but impressed all the same.
The noise of the party reached them before the sight of it. The low din of conversation, the occasional shout of laughter, the cacophony of celebration. As they reached the edge of the boardwalk, Ele turned to Robert.
Following a wayward impulse, she asked, “The area is safe?”
Robert nodded, slow and deliberate. He knew where this was going, and he intended to keep his feelings about it to himself. She could tell by the lack of expression on his face.
“I want to go”—she swallowed, girding herself to say what she wanted—“alone.”
Robert merely nodded again. Not a blessing, not a condemnation, just an acknowledgment.
“Sight?” he asked, wanting to know if Ele needed her security team’s eyes on her.
Drawing another deep breath, she nodded. “Hear no evil,” she joked, so Robert knew she didn’t want anyone in hearing distance.
Robert fought a grin. “What about departure?”
She wanted to say she would leave with Tristan, but it wasn’t true. She could mingle with everyone at the party, but she couldn’t leave with a particular person. So, she smirked instead. “Cinderella?”
Robert’s teeth tugged on the corner of his lip as he maintained his stoic image. “Don’t make me turn into a pumpkin, Your Highness.”
So, she had until midnight before Robert would come to get her.
Ele was good, but she was defenseless against Robert’s one-liners. So, when she turned back to step down onto the beach, she wore a flirty yellow dress, a jaunty straw hat, and a wide, open smile. The moment wiped the fear and the hesitancy away. She looked out at the assembly in front of her—a stone firepit with curved benches circling it, two large wooden picnic tables laden with food, barrels set up around with drinks floating in ice water, and people. Footballers in casual National Team gear, wives and girlfriends sidled up close to their men, children playing with smaller balls while others sat in the sand, sifting for little treasures. Some older people were intermingled with the groups, probably parents. It struck Ele—belatedly—that it was a family party, and the first trickle of unease dripped down her spine. She glanced about for a familiar face, but she didn’t see Tristan. She turned to go, to step back onto the safety of the boardwalk, when a tiny person crashed into her legs.
Startled, she braced herself. When she regained her balance, she looked down at a dark-haired little girl who was peering up at her with intent.
“Oops,” the girl said before she burst into tears.
Ele didn’t think twice about scooping the child into her arms. She foisted the girl onto her hip and swayed side to side. She remembered slinging a tiny Juliana around when she was little. It made her smile, and the skills she’d garnered from mothering her sister came back to her on instinct.
“Hello,” she said, smiling at the girl. “We have the same color dress on.”
The girl peered at her with huge chocolate eyes. “Yellow is my favorite color.”
Ele thought about just agreeing with her, but she didn’t want to lie. “Mine is green.”
She scrunched up her face like what Ele had said was horrible. Dropping her voice, the girl said, “But that’s the color of boogers.”
Ele struggled not to laugh. With a forced serious expression, she whispered, “Yes, but yellow is the color of wee-wee.”
The child’s hands flew to her mouth, and she stifled her giggle. But her eyes lit up, twinkling with mirth.
“Annalise.”
The child and Ele turned in the direction of the stern voice. Nicolas Ramsey stood a few feet away from them, his hands on his hips.
“You were supposed to be eating your dinner,” he reprimanded lightly.
“But we were talking about colors, Daddy.”
Nicolas, whose eyes were fixed on his child, shook his head, obviously concealing a smile. Then, his gaze shifted to Ele and widened in surprise.
“Your Highness,” he began.
But Ele held up her hand and shook her head. “It’s Ele, please.”
Maybe it was the pleading in her voice or the directness of her stare, but Nicolas sent her an understanding smile. “Ele, I hope she’s not bothering you.”
“Not at all. We’re in the middle of color wars right now. And I happen to think green is winning.”
Annalise cracked up in her arms, her little body shaking with each giggle.
“I’ve obviously missed something here,” Nicolas replied good-naturedly.
With a shrug and a wink, Ele said, “Girl stuff.”
“Fair enough. But someone needs to eat.”
“Can Ele come with me?” Annalise pleaded.
“That’s not up to me,” he said, holding his hands up.
“I’d love to. But I’m not eating anything yellow.”
Annalise howled with laughter, and Nicolas shook his head.
He stepped a little closer. “Are you sure?” he asked Ele.
“Of course.”
He nodded, and the three of them skirted the crowds, heading to a table. Sitting a little off to the side was a boy of about ten and a beautiful, dark-haired woman. She held a plastic wineglass in her hand and absentmindedly ran her other one down the boy’s arm. The woman lifted her head and smiled when she saw Nicolas and Annalise coming toward them.
“You found her.”
/>
“In good hands, apparently,” he said.
There must have been some silent communication between them because when the woman’s eyes landed on Ele’s, the recognition was quietly subtle.
The woman stood, offering her hand. “I’m Katrine.”
Ele shifted Annalise and met the gesture. “Ele.”
Katrine nodded. “Annalise,” she said, holding out her arms, “come eat.”
Annalise’s grip around Ele’s neck tightened.
“It’s fine. I told her we could eat together.” Then, she glanced between the two adults. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Katrine answered sincerely.
Ele sat with Annalise still attached to her. It was awkward, but she managed. Then, Katrine leveled Annalise with a stern look, and the child untangled herself from Ele. There was an arrangement of food in the middle of the table, and Ele helped both Annalise and herself. She took her first bite when she heard Tristan.
“Gabe, are you ready to have a go at me now?”
The boy, a little replica of Nicolas Ramsey, shoved the last bit of food in his mouth and looked to his mother. “Can I?”
While they negotiated the boundaries, Ele studied Tristan. He hadn’t noticed her yet, as his attention was solely focused on Gabe. She wondered how he didn’t feel the electricity between them, how his skin wasn’t pulsing with want. But then she saw him as he spoke to Gabe, how his attention was absolute, and she knew it was one of the things she liked about him. His complete focus. Then, Katrine shifted toward Ele, and Tristan’s gaze followed.
“Do you know Ele?” she asked him.
Ele had no idea if he spoke, if his mouth moved, if he and Katrine had a discussion because, when their eyes met and his attention shifted to her, she was caught, utterly suspended in the moment of his discovery. It was that damn dissociative feeling again, the jumble of nerves and emotions tangling in her stomach, the appearance of being present but knowing she was somehow in a free fall. The wind rushing around her, the ground rising up to meet her, the total sense of exhilaration. The moment must have stretched around them because Annalise tugged on the sleeve of her dress, and Katrine cleared her throat.
Tristan smirked, coming out of their insular universe first. “We’ve met. Hello, E. Fancy you being here.”
She wanted to be angry with him for his knowing smile, his familiar greeting, his complete lack of discretion, but she couldn’t seem to work up the energy for it. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and gave him a cursory nod. It made his smile widen, like he enjoyed getting under her skin. But then Gabe was standing and talking excitedly, and Tristan sent her a look, one filled with pride. And intent.
He nodded his head in Gabe’s direction. “Catch you lovely ladies later.”
Ele forced her attention back to the plate in front of her and away from the knowing looks casting back and forth between Nicolas and Katrine. She vaguely remembered Juliana telling her they were divorced, but they seemed so in sync that she couldn’t believe it to be true. Trying to regain some composure, she finished her meal and tuned back into the people around her. Nicolas had moved on, leaving only Katrine and Annalise.
“It sounds like you’re American,” Ele began conversationally.
Katrine nodded. “I am. From Chicago actually.”
“We live here now,” Annalise interjected. “Daddy doesn’t.” Katrine looked embarrassed by Annalise’s commentary. “They’re divorced.”
Ele shifted her gaze from Annalise to Katrine. “Sorry,” she said.
Katrine waved it away. “Old news.”
Maybe, but it left Ele at a loss for what to say.
Until Annalise saved her again. “Mama, I want to go play with Tristan and Gabe. Can Ele take me?”
Katrine glanced at Ele for a sign. When Ele nodded, she said, “Yes. But we have to leave soon.”
Ele stood and held out her hand for Annalise. They looked like a matched set in their yellow dresses. Annalise skipped, keeping pace with Ele’s longer strides. Maybe it was the hat or maybe the little girl dressed like her or maybe her lack of hypervigilance, but whatever it was, no one seemed to even notice she was there.
They reached Gabe and Tristan. But the game had grown to include a few other children and Rowan and Caleb—the only three unattached members of the team. Annalise stood on the sidelines, suddenly shy.
“Don’t you want to play?” Ele asked, bending down to meet her eyes.
“I’m the only one with a dress.”
“True. It just means you have to be a bit fiercer.”
Seemingly satisfied, Annalise stepped out onto the makeshift pitch.
Of course, Tristan instantly noticed her and came to her. “Annalise is on my team,” he yelled for everyone to hear.
She smiled wide, and Ele kind of hated him in that moment for being so adorable. She stood on the sidelines, watching yet another football match. In the past few months alone, she’d quadrupled the amount of matches she’d watched in her life. This was different though. The competitive nature of the play lessened by the participants, and every time she caught a glimpse of Tristan, he was smiling wide.
Katrine and Nico joined her a few minutes later, calling for Gabe and Annalise. Before they trotted to their parents, Tristan stepped out of the action and pulled his phone from his pocket. He took a selfie with indiscriminate children in the background, their faces obscured by the color of dusk.
He ran over to Nico and showed it to him. “No faces—well, except mine,” he said. “Can I post it?”
Nico shook his head. “Bloody obsessed you are.” But he looked to Katrine, who smiled indulgently.
“I’ll have to approve the caption.”
Tristan chuckled. “Family football.”
Ele lost another tiny piece of her heart.
“That’s sweet. And, yes, you can post that.”
Tristan grinned and took off back to the game, rounding up Gabe and Annalise.
Katrine sidled closer to Ele. “I would tell you to hold on to your heart, but it seems I’m too late for any warnings.”
Ele shifted, bent on a rebuttal, but Katrine had already moved away, holding out her hands to her children.
Annalise tugged away and yelled, “Tristan.”
He had been retreating but quickly changed course. “Yes, sweets?”
“Will you take a picture of me and Ele?”
“Even my daughter knows of your camera obsession,” Nico commented wryly.
But Tristan ignored him, his gaze fixed on Ele. He was waiting for her permission, she realized. It hadn’t occurred to her to withhold it.
She bent down and pulled Annalise close to her.
“Smile.”
Ele didn’t need the instruction. Tristan nodded when he got it.
“Now, a selfie with you,” Annalise demanded.
Ele shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Tristan stood off to the side, capturing them in the background.
“I wanna see,” she said, running to Tristan.
He knelt and showed her the photos. Satisfied, Annalise turned and ran back to Ele, hugging her hard.
Then, the Ramseys were leaving, the game was breaking up, and Ele was disappearing up the boardwalk with Michael in front and Robert following behind. When they got to the elevator, she paused.
“It’s not midnight yet,” she said to Robert.
14
28 June
The Michigan Inn
Tristan entered the elevator with Rowan and Caleb, strangely frustrated. Which was ridiculous. His team had advanced to the knockout stage of the tournament. He’d enjoyed a fun evening with his mates. Ele had ventured out, without escort, and looked to have a good time. And wasn’t that the shit of it? Looking up and seeing her there, comfortable and radiant, had filled him up with a pride he’d thought he could only experience when he put the ball in the back of the net. Shocked and a bit awed by her presence, he’d been unable to hold back the joy
he felt, rocking a shit-eating grin all night.
But he hadn’t been able to reap any of the rewards of her outing. He’d hardly spoken to her, he hadn’t gotten to touch her, and he certainly hadn’t gotten to put his mouth on hers. Hence the unfulfilled emptiness in the aftermath.
When he glanced up, he found Rowan’s gaze locked on him. He quirked an eyebrow, a silent question he knew he would get no answer to. Rowan knew what was going on—not the extent of it maybe—but he hadn’t asked for any clarification, and Tristan hadn’t offered any. Rowan was his closest friend, but they were guys. Feeling all sad because he couldn’t spend time with a girl was not something he was going to admit to anyone—even or especially with Rowan. His buddy had some beef with the palace, and although they avoided politics as much as they avoided gushy feelings, Rowan’s stance on the aristocracy of their country was not positive.
Rowan merely shook his head and then turned his gaze to the elevator doors.
“Football tournament?” Caleb asked as the car stopped.
“Not tonight, Junior,” Ro responded. “We have to be up and on the plane early tomorrow. Curfew observed.”
Rowan stepped out first and didn’t see Caleb bring his hand up to his forehead in a mock salute. Tristan snickered but filed out.
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Caleb joked.
Rowan walked to his room.
Caleb and Tristan exchanged a confused look, and Caleb mouthed, What the fuck?
Tristan shrugged, hoping he wasn’t the cause of Rowan’s worried face and dictatorial demeanor.
Caleb stopped at his door and whispered to Tristan, “You up for it?”
But Tristan found he really wasn’t. He was stupidly sulky and wasn’t up for the barb-and-jab, shit-talking company tonight. He would either be too snippy to Caleb or too easy a target. Neither outcome sounded like a particularly good idea.
“Nah, I’m kind of tired. And we have to pack. We should probably get all of our stuff ready, so we aren’t scrambling in the morning. Based on Ro’s mood, it’d be better to not piss him off.”
Caleb’s disappointment was obvious, but he didn’t make note of it. He shrugged, too, and walked into his room. “Don’t forget my wake-up call, Tris,” he said before the door closed behind him.
