Page 21 of The Silent Princess

“If she is not in the car in three minutes, I will be extremely displeased.”

“I… I’ll find a way, sir. I will.”

“Thank you, Ronny.” I hang up, hoping he’ll manage to make her comply. Let’s hope she agrees this time. Employee safety, that is all. A business concern. Nothing more. Our cameras end in the hall, which means I cannot see whether she gets into the car with Paul, so I text him.

Me: Is she in the car?

His answer arrives less than a minute later.

Paul: No, sir.

My breathing quickens. She is not in the car. Which means she is taking the bus again, at night, commuting from the city to the suburbs. Good suburbs, yes, but still. A rumble of thunder gathers in my chest as I shut the monitors, lock the door, and storm toward my office. I will fix this. I will convince her to drive home with my car next time. Next time? A groan tears out of me, and I enter my office with more force than necessary. What did she write? Why did she leave a note? When will I see her again?

All my questions remain unanswered as I take the thin piece of paper from my desk, white noise pulsing in my ears like a lion denied its kill.

Where is the taste of achievement if the victory is stolen? I thought, out of all people, you would understand the value of climbing a mountain on your own.

I am not a thief, and I will never be.

Take it back.

I grasp the paper, her elegant handwriting mocking every assumption I have ever made about her, the roundness of the letters daring me to contradict her, challenging me on the spot. And the thought makes me want to run after her. Focus.

I am overstepping. She is one of my employees. Well, not technically, but by proxy, she is. We are strangers. That is all. This momentary obsession is not rational. I am tired. That must be it. Emotions should not be anywhere near me, and I have allowed her presence to affect my focus, which is unacceptable. I need to go home and forget about her: healthy body, healthy mind, no twisted games, no fixation, no obsession. I need to stay clear, keep my eyes on the prize, break the Vodianov , and accomplish my father’s life’s work. Nothing can come between me and that destination. No relationship. No woman. She is a stranger who happens to look and act like a fallen angel. That is all. I only need to clear my head and go home.

And I do go home, but no matter how hard I try to fall asleep, her scent keeps returning, branding me with an unknown prayer.

To see her again.

Chapter Five

Tristan

“You got crushed up there,” Nate says with worry, handing me a towel in the locker room as I clean my opponent’s blood and mine off my chest. I needed to fight. Did and won. Now I feel much calmer. Task done.

“I still won.”

“You know the goal in life is to stay alive, right?”

“I needed to let some steam off.”

“Why?”

I evade his questioning, black hair and pink lips taking possession of my mind. “I need whatever this is to get out of me before I hurt someone.”

I can’t be like my father. Violence cannot become my second name.

“You would never hurt the people you care about. You know that, right? That’s not you.”

“I don’t know…” I trail off, but I never want to find out. Can violence be generational? If so, I am getting it out here, where it is celebrated.

“I can’t imagine the look on our colleagues’ faces tomorrow.”

“At least they’ll know their boss can fight.” Nate shakes his head, his life much more boxed up and calm since he is the only one raising Maddie, doing the whole nighttime routine and so on, and he is right about it. He has too much to lose to be reckless. He leaves the locker room as I look at myself in the small rectangular mirror on the wall, only wide enough to fit my eyes. Why do I feel like I now have too much to lose too? And why is it the first time I have ever felt that?

Ella

The ring of Mara’s bell wakes me—seven a.m. The sun has only begun to peek through the curtains when I hear the handle turn.