Conclave Page 9

What an amazing thing time is. Three years ago, I thought I was going to die on this boat, him the last person I saw or talked to. I’d never been more scared.

Now, there’s hardly a day that goes by where I don’t speak to him or need him.

“You know…” I approach him.

He lifts his head, listening.

But I don’t continue. I take a breath, let out a sigh, and…shoot out, shoving him hard in the chest.

His eyes go big, he flails, and the next thing I know, he’s lost his footing and tips over the side of the yacht.

“Shit! Fuck!” rings out as he plummets.

His body hits the water ten feet down, a big splash as he disappears under the surface.

I stare down and pop another cold cut into my mouth, chewing. Did he land on his shoulder? How do you land on your frickin’ shoulder?

He pops up through the surface, splashing and sputtering as he pushes his hair back over his head and glares up at me. I fight not to smile.

Water hangs on his eyelashes and lips, and I’ve never seen two more pissed-off eyebrows. “You little shit!” he bellows.

“Okay, yes, that was harsh. I admit it,” I tell him, teasing. “But it was only fair. I almost died that night, Damon.”

“Get your ass in here, and I’ll show you what death looks like!”

“Are you crazy?” I pick up another piece of cheese. “That water’s really cold.”

He growls and swims for the back of the boat, and I finally let myself laugh as I grab a towel for him. He looks so vulnerable.

Walking down the stairs, I watch as he hops up onto the back of the yacht and stands up, his white dress shirt and black pants sticking to his body.

But his hair looks good.

I bite back my smile and hold out the towel.

“Piss off.”

But he snatches it from my hand anyway.

What a baby. I guess some people can only dish it out.

“You know that guilt I was feeling a minute ago?” he blurts out. “It’s all gone now.”

“Good.” I nod once. “We have bigger things to deal with tonight anyway.”

He seethes, drying off his hair and face and kicking off his shoes.

“Everyone in?” I hear someone call. “We’re ready to shove off.”

I look up at the captain, standing up on the bridge deck.

I give him a wave. “We’re ready.”

Damon and I climb the stairs again and walk across the sun deck as the engines start purring a little louder.

“Is Michael here?” he asks.

“He’s coming.” I dump out the rest of my uneaten food and grab a bottle of water. “I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

I move around the bar, ready to head to my cabin to shower, but Damon grabs my arm.

I stop, meeting his dark eyes.

“Everything on the table tonight,” he commands. “Everything.”

My heart skips a beat, and my muscles, relaxed a moment ago, start to tighten and strain again.

But I nod in agreement. “I know.”

As the yacht moves out into the darkening Atlantic and the stars light the night sky, nothing but Damon’s words play in my mind over the next two hours. Everything on the table. I shower, I dress, and I barely have the stomach to think about anything else, other than what’s going to happen in the next hour. Or the next four hours.

Or tomorrow.

Everything hinges on tonight.

I put on my lipstick, and the faint sound of propellers echo in the distance as dread sits on my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I look up at my ceiling, turning my eyes toward the sound of the helicopter above descending onto the yacht.

Michael is here.

The bells chime eight, all the clocks in the cabins singing the hour, as well as a faint dong of the tower clock in the wine room carrying through the corridors of the yacht.

Michael didn’t come to find me when he arrived. I leave my room, taking my phone, silent of any texts or calls I thought he’d send when I wasn’t in our cabin. It’s for the best, though. It’s why I decided to get ready in another part of the boat, other than the place we share. I don’t want to see him until I go in there. I’ll lose my nerve.

Ryen, Misha’s girlfriend, steps through their door, followed closely by him, and she looks over at me coming her way.

I smile, unable to stop my eyes from trailing down her body. She wears a tight black dress, falling about mid-thigh, with black heels that make me feel a little short. Misha turns to me, wearing a tailored black suit, minus the tie, and no matter what Damon says about his tattoos, they really do go with everything.

We’re all in black, and I almost laugh. I’m glad it’s understood that tonight is for a power color.

He holds out his hand, waving me by. “Lead the way,” he says.

I walk ahead, feeling them follow me. Alex’s door opens as I pass by, and I see her fall in with Misha and Ryen as the four of us head toward the bow, under the sun deck and deeper into the ship.

Glass walls shimmer with the firelight from the sconces, and I turn into an open doorway, seeing a large room spread before me as Kai, Winter, Banks, and Damon all stand around. Floor-to-ceiling windows decorate the far wall ahead, and the sea spreads before us as the engines whir again. Michael gazes out at the night, his back to me.

I drift slowly into the room as Misha, Ryen, and Alex walk past me, but I can’t take my eyes off him. My insides melt, and after all the years of wanting him and loving him, I’m still sixteen with a crush from afar. Loving someone so much it hurts.

The stewards finish setting out food and drinks on the buffet table, pulling a couple bottles of red off the racks on the walls and opening them for us. As soon as they leave, the doors close, and everyone drifts to the large, round table, finding their seats.

Michael turns and our eyes lock. His hazel gaze holds me frozen, and it’s hard to breathe, because I see it in his eyes. I always see it.

The love. The need. The longing.

But now, it’s different. There’s a hesitance there now, too. Like he’s unsure of what to do with me.

His beautiful eyes glide down my body, taking in my long, thin, black gown with a plunging neckline and cutouts on the back and sides, damn-near to my ass. A leather belt wraps around my waist and naked back to hold the dress to my body. I take a step forward, my leg popping out of the slit all the way up to my hip, and I know what he sees. Or doesn’t see underneath my dress.

His jaw clenches, and his gaze darts up to me again, a small fire blazing behind his eyes. I want to take pleasure in it. Taunting him.

But I simply love it. I love us.

I take the seat closest to me as Kai, Banks, and Alex go to my right and Misha, Ryen, Damon, and Winter sit to my left. Michael takes the last remaining seat, across the table, directly opposite of me.

But then he quickly rises again. “Before we begin…”

We watch as he opens a shiny black box on the table and pulls out several smaller black cases. He slides one each to Damon, Kai, and Misha, and takes one himself, circling the table toward me.

“When Will comes back,” he says to everyone, “we’ll figure out something for the men, but…every family has their heirlooms.”

He stops at my side, meeting my eyes. Boxes flip open as everyone busies themselves, looking to see what it is, while every nerve under my skin fires at his attention. He opens the box, setting it down on the table and removes the item inside.

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