Page 110 of Lethal Obsession

But I know the answer to that too, even before the pained twist of his head.

“Oh, God.” I look quickly away to hide my tears, the horizon blurring. Now that the moment is here I can’t fucking stand it.

“Ofelia.” He squeezes my hands. “It’s not like before. You know that, don’t you?” His eyes search my face. “Tell me you know that.”

I nod slowly. “I know that,” I whisper, staring down at our joined hands.

“Don’t forget it.” He kisses me once, fiercely. “Keep that paper safe. And get Mickey onto that room. I need to be able to talk to you.”

I stare behind me as the tender pulls away from the yacht, watching it until Alexei’s figure at the railing fades to a sliver, then finally disappears.

20

Ofelia

“You are going to tell me everything.” Lourdes hugs me tightly in the marina parking lot. It’s far too early for southern Spain to be awake, and there’s not a soul in sight as I open the car door.

“I will.” I tilt my head warningly toward Teresa, who is opening the driver’s door. “When we get back to Granada.”

Teresa snorts as we get in. “Oh, please.” She gives me a withering look in the rearview mirror. “Like the entire crew didn’t have to wear earplugs to drown out the sound effects for the last week.”

I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be more discreet.”

“Yeah, well.” She turns the key, looking exceptionally unimpressed. “Bet you wish I’d won the coin toss now.”

“Coin toss?” Lourdes gives me a quizzical look.

“She and Julia tossed for who got to ride the Ducati,” I explain. “Teresa lost.”

“Teresa certainly fucking did,” she mutters from the front seat, casting a resentful look at Julia revving the Ducati behind us, wearing a shit-eating grin as she closes her helmet.

Teresa hits the stereo, and Taylor Swift fills the car. “Seriously?” she mutters. “Will this week never end?”

She leads Julia out of the lot, shaking her head.

Lourdes turns to me. “So? Benny said you were on Pirate Boy’s yacht?”

I bite my lip. “Yes. I was.”

“Ay, Dio mio.” Her eyes shine. “Diga me.” Tell me.

“Tell her in English, I beg you.” Rolling her eyes ostentatiously, Teresa turns Taylor Swift up loudly enough to put a sound barrier between the front and back seats. “At least that is my second language.”

Lourdes is trying and failing to stifle her giggles. “But you’ll have to tell me quickly,” she says, giving me a rueful smile. “I am flying to London tonight to see Benny. I’m so sorry,” she says, squeezing my hand as my face falls. “But he has a recital, and I promised I would be there.”

“Oh no!” I grimace, guilt slamming into me. “I completely forgot. I’ll book a ticket straight away.”

“No, don’t.” Her reply is unusually emphatic. “It’s no big deal,” she says, seeing my surprise. “Really. You know what these things are like—it’s out in the wilds of Leicester somewhere, some minor rural orchestra. I think it would only embarrass Benny if we both came, especially with all of . . . that.” She nods toward Teresa in the front seat.

“Oh. Sure.” I feel a strange dissociation being back in a world where I’m the oddity again. Lourdes and Benny have always been incredibly understanding about my bodyguards. But since Benny left his family and his wealth behind, sometimes it feels as if he and Lourdes have more in common with one another than they do with me.

After an entire week with Alexei, who not only understands the security I have to live with but takes care of it for me, the abrupt change makes me feel lonely in a way I haven’t since I first pulled up to school in a limousine as a child. And suddenly, I don’t feel like sharing the week I’ve just had, even with Lourdes. I want to hug it close to myself, take out each precious memory and privately luxuriate in it.

So instead of the excited torrent I was about to launch into, I say simply, “It was amazing. But now it’s over, and I don’t know when I’m going to see him again.”

She searches my face, her excited expression gradually softening to one of sympathy. “Oh, chica.” She hugs me fiercely. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. Or at least, not until you’re ready.”

Teresa glances at me in the rearview mirror. “You’ll see him again,” she says, for once without any sarcasm. “A man doesn’t look at a woman like he looks at you unless he’s already planning the next time. Believe me, he’ll be back.”