“Pascal?” He hated that name from her lips. “What are we doing?”
“All is well, Claire,” he said, keeping her body tight to him and hurrying through the undergrowth in the direction of the car.
“Where’s Mama?”
“Mama needs me to help you. Will you trust me?” he asked, letting her lean away from him a little as she questioned him.
“Mmm. Okay. Are we playing a game? Hide and seek?”
“Of a fashion,” he said, snorting at her little voice and wondering where the damn car was hiding. Thomas suddenly arrived beside him, traversing the ground with lightning speed and pointing them in another direction.
“It is concealed, Omm.” Mmm, he could have done with it not being. He could feel tendons and ligaments tightening with exertion as he followed the boy. “I don’t know Junker. He could have been anyone.” Clever boy. He smirked as he watched Junker come back into view on the left, his silent, deadly steps nearly impossible to hear over Thomas’ crashing. Pascal smiled more broadly as he watched the ex Stasi police officer slap Thomas around the head for hiding something from him. They would work well together once Thomas learned who his friends were.
Eventually, the car came into view through the trees and he settled his pace to a more manageable level, which finally turned to a walk as he shifted Claire in his arms and began to untie the blanket. She instantly wrapped her legs around his waist and positioned her arms around his neck while he tried to keep her covered with the blanket.
“What are we doing now?” she asked, looking at Thomas and frowning. “I don’t know him. He’s a stranger.” Hmm. Indeed he was.
“This is Thomas,” he replied, nodding at the car then swinging to watch Junker covering their backs, his gun aloft and pointed back at the lodge. “And the man behind me is Junker. They are both here to help. Friends, hmm?””
“Oh,” her little voice said. “Hello, Thomas.”
“Hello, Claire,” Thomas replied, unlocking the door and offering his hands out to her to help her get in. She shifted her weight and then practically leapt into the car rather than touch someone she didn’t know. Good girl. He’d teach her to use that cynicism to full effect one day. Only a select few should ever be trusted with her life or wellbeing. Most men included.
He stood for a moment, flicking his gaze between Claire and Junker, checking for more threats as he did and trying to regain his breathing somewhat. He either needed to get fit or give up. This running was becoming intolerable. Chasing women. Running from terrorisations. The constant need to protect and look after that which he owned. He needed to get out. He needed those lazy Sunday mornings Lilah had spoken about, and walks in parks.
Rome. He wanted to be in Rome, where the air was warmer, the skies bluer and the nights darker.
He was not even sure if he could be bothered to return to the cabin and kill Jon for his absurdity, or whether the niggling doubt about the other building lurking a short way away was of enough interest to concern himself with. He simply wanted this finished and behind him so he could rest easy, free of disquiet. With any luck, Alexander would join him there as he had said he would when he’d offered the plane to aid this escape plan. There they could all rest, safe in the knowledge that whatever fate may befall them, it would not be through want of trying. Jon would not rest, though, would he? He would hunt them down. At least here, he had the element of surprise.
“How many are there in total?” he asked Junker, wandering behind him and staring back at the cabin once more.
“We should assume four more than on the porch, plus Jon.” Hmm. He scanned Claire again. She was shaking a little as Thomas tried again to talk to her and settle her nerves, which were clearly beginning to build. “It is not straight forward, and Thomas is no match for trained men.”
Soft sobs suddenly started to fill the air, and he glanced again to find her eyes reddening and her little arms wrapping around herself. She was alone, frightened, and wary of anyone but him. What if Lilah hadn’t returned to the apartment? She would then have no one if he put himself back in that cabin and risked his life for revenge. No. Now was not the time for this. Now was the time to take her to safety and then find a way to kill Jon without concern for his own safety.
“I want Mama,” he heard her say, a slight crack in her voice as she tried to remain calm and stop her sniffling. He turned and headed back to her without further thought, arms outstretched and hoping she would crawl into them for safety. In reality, she did not know him all that well either, but surely he was better than nothing.
“Junker, Thomas, get us all back to the apartment,” he said, sliding into the car and revelling in the feel of her as she did indeed scuttle into his lap.
“But, Omm, what about–”
“Now is not the time,” he snapped, stroking his fingers through dark, luscious curls and tucking her head into his chest again.
Eventually, he watched the woods retreating behind him as they drove into the open countryside, as did the other building, and finally turned his face forward again. They were safe, for now at least.
He called Phillip on the journey and continued to comfort Claire who appeared to make herself smaller and smaller within his arms. The plane would be ready as soon as they were. It was already on the tarmac waiting for them. Alexander had ordered it. He had told Phillip he was not to park it in a hanger, and bribed one of the control tower staff to ensure it happened. He smiled at the thought as he felt Claire’s breaths deepen against his chest and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, relaxed again as she pulled her knees in and held his fingers with hers.
“Where’s Mama?”
“She will see you again soon,” he said, wondering if that were true or not, and thanking God for the fact that Claire seemed reasonably comfortable in his arms. She simply sniffed once more and then snuggled back into him, tightening her little fingers on his and mumbling something to herself. He didn’t hear it fully, and for now, unless she was traumatised, he was not inclined to continue the conversation. She needed rest and safety, as did he.
The roads stretched on in front of him as time ticked by—more moments being torn from him one by one as he smiled at her face and imagined a life before this one. One where maybe he would have had more children and enjoyed a more normal existence. Perhaps he would have lived in the family home and engaged in his royal duties more affably. Would he have relished the thought of more babies screaming their arrival into the world? He had missed so much with Claire. Her first breath, her first tooth, and those very first steps. Where had that happened? When? What prompted them? All things of consequence that had been hidden from him, and now he had a chance again—a chance at a more ‘normal’ life. It both fascinated and terrified him. Normal. Vanilla. Un-interesting, and yet utterly consuming in this moment as he held her quietly and watched her settle. Maybe that was where his peace lay, quietly waiting for him, ready to bore him to death but relay a sense of ease. Hmm.
He rubbed at his throat, stretching the tie to loosen it a little and leaning his head back for some relaxation of his own. Peace. Alexander’s quest had come to haunt him again. He’d never been that enamoured with the idea before, not unless it involved Alexander, anyway. However, Claire rallied an emotional necessity, something that would not be tamed or corralled, but what did Alexander know of children? Or himself, for that matter? The peace he chased now seemed so far from reach. He couldn’t see it in its entirety anymore. Lilah, Alexander, Elizabeth. It was impossible to dismiss such people from his life. It would be fatal to his sanity should he choose his little girl over them. Maybe it should just be Lilah there to comfort him. Maybe he should forget Alexander and let him forge a life with Elizabeth on their own. There would be no lucidity in a household of four while a child wandered between them. It would be chaos, madness. She needed stability, love, guidance and care. Not debaucherous entertainment mingled with constant fucking. He wasn’t entirely comfortable even having the thought with Claire in his
arms.
Hmm.
He sighed out a breath and closed his eyes, then smiled to himself and watched blue eyes flicker in his mind. Soft and kind, for once. The same ones he’d last gazed upon in the hospital. He knew, didn’t he? He’d known all along. He knew the conundrum that was coming. He must have when he found out about Claire. He knew it would mean choices would have to be made. And he’d gone about the decision making process in the most deliberate of ways—helping Lilah, agreeing, teaching her about herself swiftly. Then, he’d prompted Pascal’s jealousy, forced his emotions forward before he had a chance to deny their existence. And of course, lastly, Alexander had given him permission to leave if he chose, hadn’t he? That’s what this was all about. He’d opened the door for Lilah and given her the key to his heart, shown her the way, offering support to her as he did. He smirked again and laughed lightly. A truly decent and considerate dominant. Although, he was certain that the amusement of watching him ache for more than ‘normal’ would arouse the sadist no end.
“Omm?”
“Hmm?” he mused, already bored with the question that he knew was coming and waiting for Alexander’s hands to do their worst to his state of mind instead.
“Your Ferrari is not here.” He rolled his eyes beneath his lids. Of course it wasn’t. Would it ever be again? He laughed louder this time before remembering Claire was sleeping and caging his amusement. More chasing was required, it seemed. Perhaps she was the one who was now finding the idea of normal more perplexing than he.
He pulled out the tracker from his pocket and switched it on, wondering where his little wolf had run to this time. The screen came to life and highlighted her and her nauseating backpack, apparently still in Berlin, at a coffee house on Blaupont Strasse. A coffee sounded appealing. Perhaps he should join her and remind her why she should be getting on a plane to Rome.
Chapter 5
I should be in one of two places—his apartment or the airport. Either one would be fine. Instead, I’m sitting outside some wine bar in the middle of Berlin having abandoned the car on a side street because I really couldn’t make up my mind which one to go to. That fact is still disconcerting as I stir my coffee and think of sperm floating about in it, giggling as I do. Ridiculous. The truly pathetic thing about all of this is that I know he’ll be able to find me. The car has likely got some surveillance thing on it. People don’t have cars worth that sort of money without looking after them, do they? I haven’t even bothered to walk far from where I left it by the park. I can still see it actually, across the road from me. In fact, I half feel like walking back over there and straightening the parking as I watch a traffic warden slapping something on the front of it.
Instead, I chuckle at myself again and bask in the sun’s rays shining down on me, wondering when he’ll come to get me. I know I should be on that plane. I also know I should be concerned for his and Claire’s safety, but I’m not. There isn’t one part of me that doubts his abilities in his chosen field of expertise. Everything he does is perfection, and he does it all with the precision of a trained performer. If he wants Claire out of that building and safe, then that’s exactly what he’ll get. And if he wants to find me, if he still feels the need to have me, then it won’t be long before he’s here to get me. For some reason, I need to know that. I need to know that after he’s had that beautiful little girl in his arms, and after he’s thought about all the things that will force him to confront, that he still wants me. Maybe then there’ll be a conversation worth having.
I could have gone to his apartment and done as I was asked, but that wouldn’t sit well inside me because, regardless of what’s going to happen, he does need to explain himself. He also needs to answer his own questions about Alexander and I, and that will be on my terms and in a public place where I can leave if I want to. It’s not that I can’t handle his interesting persuasion techniques. It’s more that I am determined that, for once, we will have a civilised conversation about us. We will sit and discuss the reasons why. He will explain himself and try to convince me that this is worth even thinking about. Because at the moment, sitting here in the sun and pulling in slow, calming breaths, I know I’m going to be alright without him if I make that choice. I’m not entirely sure how Alexander achieved it, or if he was really the one who did this to me, but the one thing I do know is that I am engaged in me. Just me, and what I need. I’m not panicking, floundering, worrying or wallowing. I am relaxed and comfortable with who I have become, and who I choose to be from now on.
The teaspoon clinks against the side of the small cortado cup, bringing me back to the present. I look up to gaze at the slow rumble of traffic going by. I think it’s going quite fast on this busy street, but for some odd reason it seems slow to me, almost as if time is crawling at half speed. I smile to myself and feel the beat of my heart echoing inside. Thud, thud, thud. Methodical, calm, unhurried, but almost melancholy in its quiet pounding. Perhaps it’s recognising a time gone by when it thrashed erratically and became flustered, confused, elated. It makes me chuckle to myself as I imagine its rhythm when he arrives for me. It will change. I know that. It will thunder inside me again and remind me why I feel him within me regardless of how much I don’t want to. Its steady beat will become a serenade. It will bounce and twirl around my chest, creating melodies and harmonies and trying to break its way out to link with his own symphony. Oh, those moments. Timeless. Just as they were in the hotel room earlier. If anything, that was the most timeless moment we’ve had.
I should go, shouldn’t I? I should leave and get on with my life.
“Ein anderer kaffee?” What?
I swing my head around to see a waiter looking at me, white cloth over his arm and notepad in his hand. Did he say coffee? It think he did. I stare at him, confused, trying to understand if he wants me to pay for my coffee or if he’s asking me something else as he smiles at me. Cute. My eyes flick over his tall, blond frame. It’s yummy in an innocent kind of way. I still don’t know what he wants, though, so I nod, because nodding is good when one doesn’t understand. I don’t really know what I’m nodding for, but he scuttles off to do something anyway after smiling at me a bit longer. Good boy. Perhaps he’s getting me another one. A croissant would have been nice. What time is it? I need some food.
“You should be careful with that smile of yours, my love, hmm?” I don’t turn as I hear his graceful footsteps behind me. He doesn’t even really need to speak for me to know them. They’ve got the same echo as his heart.
“Why? Does it bother you that I might venture elsewhere?” He chuckles lightly, increasing my heart rate immediately and confirming my earlier thoughts.
“You will, no doubt. Irrespective of my influence.”
Interesting answer. My brow rises in confusion, or maybe curiosity, as I continue to look at anything but him. He slides a chair up beside me and sits in it, crossing his legs so they’re in my eye-line and lounging as if he owns the place. Maybe he does, though the clientele don’t seem his type.
“Your car’s over there,” I say, pointing in the general direction of the street where I abandoned it and throwing the keys down. It’s about all I can think of to talk about, because starting the other conversation is going to be torturous. Especially after the calm that has now been replaced with hurried, anxious palpitations.
“I have not come for my car,” he replies, without the slightest quiver in his tone. It’s bold, yet so soothing it makes me close my eyes and let it resonate. “You did not wait as instructed.” I smirk to myself instantly, snorting out a laugh. Instructed?
“Did you honestly think I would?”
“Hmm. I may have hoped for this one concession.”
“Really? Perhaps that’s the problem,” I reply as I turn my face over my shoulder to look at him for the first time. He’s smiling softly, a slight quirk on one side as he gazes back at me and raises his own brow.
“How should we proceed, my love, hmm? A once monthly rendezvous where we shall fuc
k ravenously and then part company again?” Another interesting thought, one that has me lowering my eyes to his mouth and remembering his tongue inside me. “Or perhaps we should simply accept the inevitable and embrace our adoration willingly, heedlessly abandoning the difficulties.”
Difficulties? What a word for such complications. I snort out a begrudging laugh and nod as my waiter delivers another coffee, then turn my eyes back to the park rather than to him. Beautiful as he might be, looking at his perfection and staying sane during this conversation would not be easy.
“Is Claire safe?”
“Mmm. She is presently entertaining herself with Ruebin’s idiocy,” he replies, reaching for my coffee and raising it to his lips. “I do not have much time, though.”
Time. We never seem to have any of it. Perhaps if things weren’t so rushed or so confusing there would be time to reflect and consider. In fact, as I sit here staring at the park, I realise we’ve never actually had any time to just be together and let things run their natural course. I glance across at him, sipping my drink, and try to imagine simply being with him, living with him. Staying still in one location and being a couple. Having a home. None of it sits as comfortably as I thought it might, no matter how hard I try to see the vision.
“Bring my bag, will you?” I say as I get up, grab my drink out of his fingers and head across the road towards the open grassy area. A new park.
Time. Real time. Not timeless seconds. Not moments of sheer bliss, lovely as they might be. Just time that we can spend meandering in a park as we talk rationally. And this is a park I should have no pull towards or emotional attachment to, but unfortunately, as I stride past his car and duck under a tree, it doesn’t stop the visions of snowballs from assaulting me the moment my feet hit the light dusting of snow underfoot.
Serenity's Key Page 7
