Aran
Inoticeafewthings about this party right away—one, all the VIPs in attendance are at least twice the age of their PAs, and two, they seem very eager to get their employees drunk. That, in and of itself, might not necessarily be a problem, but when I went to grab more tonic for the bar, I passed by a room with an open door where a young woman was enjoying the company of an old couple.
Now, I don’t judge people for their preferences as long as they aren’t predatory. But when you put money and status into the equation, things tend to get a bit complicated. It’s not my problem to solve though, and neither do I have the time for it when I have no idea what my troublemaker might currently be up to.
I grab the shaker and pour gin, lemon honey, and mint inside it. At least I know where Hex will be. By asking me to bring her a tray of drinks, Claire gave me the in, too. I’m adding extra alcohol to this batch, so hopefully everyone will be drunk and pliable before they’ve even finished their first rounds. I’m more than done with this cruise and the amount of stress it has put on me.
My phone pings with a message from Mong just as I finish preparing the last drink. He’s holding the front for us while we play detectives, and no one has been the wiser yet. He’s even managed to get himself to watch over the greenhouse deck, which plays in our favor if something was to go wrong.
A wave of relief surges through me, settling some of my anxiety. A healthy dose of it remains, but while I would love it gone, it keeps me alert and on my toes. Despite the party’s lulling atmosphere, I need to be cautious and not overconfident, or I risk putting both me and Hex in more danger than we already are.
That doesn’t mean I’ll sit like a duck in a lake waiting to be shot.
With about fifteen minutes to spare before I need to take the drinks to the Skellig room, I decide to do some quick recon. In about a third of the time, I have the entire first floor of what must be a two-floor penthouse mapped. The lounge and parlor take up most of the space, while the rest is a corridor with two bathrooms and four bedrooms. They are all occupied, but while that is of no particular interest to me, I have realized one other thing—the ratio of VIPs to PAs is not equal.
It strikes me as odd, considering that every guest would have at least one. Even with some leeway to account for any couples, I should be looking at a two-to-one ratio at the very least, and that’s assuming half of the non-employees in attendance came with their partners. Which, as I scan through people and the groups that have formed between them, doesn’t seem to be the case.
So where are the rest of the PAs then? And what about Eleanor? If this is Claire’s party, then it makes sense for the PA to have organized it and be present to ensure everyone is having a good time, but I haven’t seen her.
My stomach roils with unease. The collar of my shirt suddenly feels tight around my neck, so I have to undo the top button and take a deep breath. I don’t like this, and I like even less that I can’t find Hex. Claire mentioned having to greet some people before going to the Skellig room, but there is no sign of either of them.
I feel like I am about to lose it. My hands are shaking, my jaw is clenched tight. I’m not an impulsive person, I am the kind that always has himself under control. But that goes all out the window when it comes to Hex. Back home, keeping him safe has been relatively easy, but putting him in the crossfire of a drug conspiracy is an entirely different matter. He’s not trained for this, and despite that, I’ve let him put himself in danger since the very first day.
That’s not like me. I’ve been acting out of line, and while some blame is definitely on him, ultimately, it all falls on me because I let things get this far.
Why?
Frowning, I take out my cigarettes and slip out of the lounge to the smoking area next to the parlor. It’s dark and empty and broody, fitting my mood. There are a few chairs and tables, some plants, and it looks like it was designed to resemble a glass veranda. The noise is a notch quieter, which is a blessing and a curse as my thoughts threaten to spiral out of control.
Why did I let Hex play me like this? Why did I give in?
I light up a cigarette, but before I’ve taken a drag, I stop myself and extinguish it. I promised to him I wouldn’t smoke, and I intend to uphold that even if I know the nicotine will be a balm to my nerves. I have other ways to calm down, and even though it’s harder to achieve it, a quick meditation clears my head and strips away the lies from the truth.
I let him play me because I wanted to. Because I have wanted to for the longest time. The truth is I have never been satisfied with those who approached him because I wanted it to be me standing next to him. Not as a bodyguard, not as someone who’s fulfilling a promise, but as a partner. Resisting his advances has been so challenging and exhausting. Having the man you love want you just as fiercely is the hardest thing in the world to fight against. To deny yourself. But it was the right thing to do, I firmly believed that.
I exhale and toss my pack of cigarettes into the trash can.
I don’t know what changed on this cruise, but something did. Slowly, gradually, without me noticing it until it was too late. I tasted the forbidden fruit and now I simply can’t imagine my life without it.
So hard I’ve tried to rationalize this, to compartmentalize it so that it makes sense and I can explain why I did what I did. But I’ve failed, time and time again. I tell myself that once we are back in Nagoya, I will put an end to this, to us, but I fear that day. Maybe the time for me to stop lying to myself has come. Hell, I don’t want to do it anymore.
I get the stubbornness from my mother. It’s one of the qualities that has helped me in life the most, and I take pride in it. But maybe it’s time to let go of it, of the promise to my dearest friend that I have been clinging to since the day he died in my arms.
Hex is not a child anymore—he doesn’t need me to act as the father he lost anymore. He’s a gorgeous young man who sees all of me and wants me by his side. He’s not wavered once, he’s made it clear time and time again just how sure he is of that. It’s humbling, it’s scary, it’s elating.
My chest floods with so much affection for him, I feel like it’s about to burst. I look up at the ceiling where the dark chandelier reflects the light from the parlor, and count the components that make up its crystal body.
I lose. I surrender. Hex wins.
A weight lifts off my shoulders, my stomach and chest feel lighter. I smile into the darkness, giddy and wishing he were in my arms right now. I’d kiss him until he’s a gasping mess, I’d show him just how deep and dark my love for him gets.
I chuckle to myself, unable to help it. Knowing that little shit, he’d love every second of it and give back just as good. He’ll make a mess of me in his own way, and then he’ll laugh and profess how I stood no chance against him.
It’s comical how true that is.
For the first time in years, I can breathe without a lump in my throat. Without a voice at the back of my head reminding me about all those should-s and shouldn’t-s. Worry still courses through me though, and it grows with every second that passes now that I am no longer lying to myself.
I need to find Hex, and I need to make sure he’s safe or not about to sink this ship into the ocean. Because there is a danger of that happening, too. Our mission hasn’t changed just because I had an epiphany in the middle of a party for rich snobs. We’ll still talk when we’re back to Nagoya, and things will change between us, but I am not denying myself what I truly want anymore.
