Page 8 of Broken Butterfly
That’s when he takes me down the stairs and into his sister’s stateroom, which is where I’m currently standing.
Once I finish circling the room, I decide to take another shower—a proper one this time. The various shampoos and soaps smell like flowers. After I’m done, I take my time getting ready. Finding a hair dryer, I blow dry my hair before piling my thick blond mass on top of my head in a loose bun. Next, I try on several items of clothing until I find a blouse that I like. The trousers are all too short for me, so I choose one of the longer skirts. Fallon was correct about Tatiána’s stuff being my size. Other than our apparent height difference, most of her clothes fit me. There’s a light knock on my suite door.
“Miss Fairchild? Mr. Montgomery would like for you to join him up on deck.”
I open the door to find an impeccably dressed man standing in front of me. “Hi,” I say, unsure of what to do.
“Good day, Miss Fairchild. My name is Robert, and I will be your personal concierge while you are on board. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ring me at any time by pressing the number seven on any phone you find on board.” I catch a faint British accent and want to ask him where he’s from but decide not to. I give him a polite smile in greeting.
Realizing he what he said about the phone, I eye the phone in my room and Robert follows my gaze. “Mr. Montgomery also wanted me to inform you that the phones on board are pin-locked and you will not be able to call out unless you have the code, which he has informed the staff you are not to have. Also, the laptops and computers on board are password-protected.”
I make a silent, internal growl aimed at Fallon.Asshole.
“Please follow me.” Robert offers me the back of his hand like we’re about to walk out onto a ballroom floor to waltz. As we walk, he points out various rooms to me. Fallon’s suite is right next to mine, which makes sense if I’m staying in the one his sister uses.
Robert escorts me to the upper deck. I look around, taking everything in. We’re already sailing in open water, the marina now a tiny speck in the distance. The late afternoon sun is sinking toward the horizon. It’s absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could take some pictures, but Fallon has my phone. The breeze is strong and whips some of my hair out from my bun. The wind feels crisp and cool against my skin. I breathe in and smell the salt of the ocean. Grasping the top railing, I lean over to watch the small white caps form along the side of the yacht as it trails through the rippling Atlantic waters.
“I’ve got it from here, Robert,” Fallon says from behind me. Robert quietly slips away. Fallon comes to stand beside me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.
“You look beautiful,” he tells me.
Not knowing what else to say, I tell him thank you. I breathe in the open ocean air once again. Instead of the heavy saline smell of the ocean I detected before, the air now smells like freedom.
“Ready to find yourself, kitten?”
The setting sun makes his sandy-blond hair look almost burnt umber. “I’m trusting you, Fallon. Don’t make me regret it.”
He gives me one of his classic Fallon smirks and slings an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. He places a kiss to my temple like a protective older brother would a little sister he adores. Fallon is a complete conundrum to me. He can be a foul-mouthed loud jerk, but like now, he can also be tender, sweet, and caring. For some strange reason, I like all his sides, even the asshole-ish ones. With his arm around me, we stand together near the railing and watch the sun sink until the stars come out.
“So, are you going to finally tell me what your plan is?” I ask Fallon.
We just finished dinner, which was excellent. I told the chef about my dairy allergy and preference for gluten-free, and he whipped up a gorgeous allergen-free chocolate cake with raspberry drizzle just for me. That was after we enjoyed a selection of grilled fish, chicken, roasted vegetables, and salad. I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, with the exception of the banana Fallon brought me this morning, so I was ravenous. Now we’re back out on the top deck enjoying an IPA and looking up at the stars.
“In about two days, we’ll dock near New York so I can take you shopping for some new clothes.”
I think my mouth drops open. “Fallon, you’re not buying me clothes and I’m not taking your money.”
“Kitten, who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You should know by now that money is not an obstacle for me. I have millions. A few clothes and shoes are nothing. Besides, you have to do what I say. It’s in the contract you agreed to.”
I mouth the word “asshole” at him, and he gives me a cocky salute with his beer bottle. It would be nice to have some new clothes and not have to wear his sister’s.
Knowing I’m zero for like a thousand at winning arguments with him, I relent. “Alright, new clothes. Then what?”
“We’ll stay in New York City for a couple of days, take in the sights, see a show, do the normal touristy things.”
I have to admit, a part of me gets excited about the thought of touring New York City. I’ve never been there before.
“And then?”
“And then it’s up to you where we end up.”
“Are you serious?”
“Operation ‘Finding Elizabeth’ has begun. Where you go, I follow…but I’m still in charge. So, where do you want to go?”
“Fallon, this is too much. I’m just a girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere. You don’t even know me that well. Why are you doing this for me?”
He narrows those pale blue eyes at me. “Where do you want to go?” he asks again.
