Page 20 of Demon On Deck

I exhale slowly, rubbing at the tension building between my horns. They’ve been calling since before the cruise. I wasn’t in the mood then, and I’m not in the mood now.

Just thinking about that cruise twists something in my chest. The spreadsheets, the meetings, the market, all of it feels hollow compared to what I left behind.

Not what. Who.

Kallie.

The name alone feels like salt in an open wound.

“Mr. Kade?” Jasmine prompts again, careful now, as if she senses the shift in my mood.

“Put it through,” I say, though my voice is rougher than I intend.

“Yes, sir. Should I push back your client meeting?”

I drag a hand down my face. “Reschedule if possible. If not, move it an hour. Will that mess up the rest of the day?”

She glances at her phone, calculating. “No, sir.”

“Good.” I nod, forcing my tone back to steady. “Give me a few minutes to review Obsidian’s portfolio before you send the call through.”

“You got it, sir.” She leaves, the door clicking softly behind her.

Silence settles again, thick and oppressive. The glow of the monitor reflects off the glass walls, the numbers meaningless now. I try to focus, but the ache in my chest only grows.

I rub the ache away as best as possible, take a few deep breaths, open the file on Obsidian, and take the call.

Two excruciating hours later, I finally hang up with Obsidian. I’m glad I took the call, as the investment proposal was a good one. It just took entirely longer than I had planned.

Jasmine had popped in to hand me a note letting me know my in-person meeting had been rescheduled for next week, leaving me with a decent break.

As if sensing I had a free moment, my phone buzzes on the desk, my mother's name popping up on the screen for a video chat.

I prop the phone against my monitor and answer:

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, my sweet boy. How’s your day?”

“Busy. I just got a break. I was going to grab some food before diving back in. What are you doing up so late?”

My mother makes a tutting sound. She’s sitting on her bedroom balcony, the Aegean Sea’s soft waves a gentle symphony in the background. She’s got her hair, the same wavy mass of red and black waves I have, braided to one side and resting along her robe. It’s nearly midnight in Greece.

She looks at me in the way only a mom can, that scrutinizing, all-knowing look.

“I was worried.”

I’m surprised. “About what?”

“You were upset earlier.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” I ask, perplexed.

She scoffs, “Evren, don’t lie to your mother. Something upset you earlier. I felt it. Now tell your mother what’s bothering you, or I’ll wake up your father and have him book the first available flight out there, and we’ll stay until I’m satisfied you’re ok.”

Sweet Satan.

I’m not sure if I believe the entire I’m your mother, and I can feel when you’re distraught thing, but I won’t deny I was in my feelings earlier.