Part 2 (1/2)

I just stared at him, blinking, thinking, trying to process his suggestion. ”Why now?”

Roth frowned, brow furrowing. ”Why not now? I love you more than life itself. I want you to be mine forever. I want you to become Kyrie Roth.”

”Yes, it has been six months, but Vitaly is still out there. I don't know if I could ever really relax knowing that he's still looking for us. We've got Layla here for her own safety, and we've got Harris and his team on high alert on our behalf. I want to get married, I really do, but I'll be with you no matter what. I'll change my name, if that's what you want.”

He blew out a breath, frustrated, confused. ”I'm not following, Kyrie. Just a bit ago on the deck you were suggesting a house in the suburbs with kids. Now you're saying you don't want to get married?”

I sat up, put my back to the headboard, and sc.r.a.ped my thick blond hair backward. ”Roth, no, I'm not saying I don't want to. I just want to know why now. Is it what you want, or are you doing it because you think it's what I want?”

”Both, actually. Does it really matter why, though?”

”Yes! It really does matter. It's marriage, Roth. It's not something to take lightly.”

He didn't answer right away. ”I guess maybe I see it differently. Anyone can get married. It doesn't have to be a big deal. It's just a ceremony, a piece of legal doc.u.mentation. Unless you make it meaningful, that's all it is.”

I laughed, but it wasn't entirely mirthful. ”You're not making any sense. Why do you want to get married if it doesn't mean anything? It seems like you've got your arguments confused.”

He stood up, paced to the window, naked. Even in the midst of what was shaping up to be a pretty serious argument, I couldn't help appreciating his taut, muscular a.s.s, the rippling muscles of his back, his broad shoulders, the fall of his blond hair.

”I'll admit I didn't see this coming, Kyrie. I thought you'd be all over this. A chance to see home again, maybe get your brother to walk you down to the aisle to me.”

”First, where's home, now? This s.h.i.+p? New York? Detroit? Second, I love Cal, but I'm not sure I want to risk his safety by bringing him within a hundred miles of us and our problems. He's an innocent kid.”

”Home is wherever we are, I suppose. Here on the Eliza, France, New York...but I see your point. As for Cal, Harris has two of his guys in Chicago, keeping tabs on him. I doubt he even knows they're there, but they'll make sure no one else is sniffing around him.”

”I'm relieved to hear that.”

”I told you I'd keep an eye on everyone. I know you've sort of kept your distance from him, for his own safety. And I know that's hard for you. And I just... I hate that you've had to do that because of my problems, because of my past.”

”It's our past now, and our problems. Not just yours. We're in this together.” I got out of bed and padded over to him, pressing myself up against his back. ”I love you, Valentine. And yes, I want to marry you. However, whenever, wherever. And as long as you can promise me he'll stay safe, I'd love a chance to see Cal.”

”I can't give you a traditional wedding, Kyrie. I can't give you a wedding with your parents on one side and mine on the other, or a little white church, or months and months to make arrangements and compile guest lists.”

I kissed his shoulder. ”I don't care. I'm not the kind of girl who's spent her whole life picturing her wedding. I mean, maybe when I was a little girl I thought about it, daydreamed or whatever, but after Dad died, I just...I didn't have time to think about that. I shut it down. It wasn't relevant anymore. And now, with you, I love you and I'm with you, no matter what. Whether we get married or not, whether we have a permanent home or not, it's you and me together. That's all that matters to me. Yeah, I want stability. I'd love a real home, something of ours. But I'm not sure we can have that yet, not while Vitaly is out there, plotting his revenge or whatever it is he's doing. But, if you want to plan us a wedding, I will marry you in a heartbeat. I'd be proud to be Kyrie Roth.”

”I'm going to set up a meeting with Harris, today, to tell him about our wedding plans. We'll work out the security angles and then give you the safety parameters, so that you and Layla can get to work planning our wedding.”

”How about you plan the wedding, and just let Layla and me pick dresses and flowers? That's all we care about anyway.”

”If you mean it, that would be infinitely easier. We'd find a good defensible location, fly in whomever we want, get security arranged...but still create a beautiful event.”

”I just have one request,” I said.

”What's that, love?” He twisted in place, putting our bodies chest to chest. He palmed my backside possessively.

”Can we get married somewhere warm and sunny? It's interesting and all, being down here in Tierra del Fuego, but it's a little chilly.”

He laughed. ”Sure, darling. We can do that. Somewhere warm and sunny it is.”

2.

DISCUSSIONS.

Life onboard the s.h.i.+p had its own patterns and routines, and everyone, from the Captain down to the deckhands, was engaged in keeping this huge craft running smoothly. Layla and I also had our own routines. We spent a lot of time during the day in what Roth called ”the salon”, or the living room, watching movies, reading, listening to music, playing cards. But Layla was right in that without a job to do, boredom was a constant specter of life aboard a s.h.i.+p. Especially when, like Layla and me, you were used to working all the time or studying for cla.s.ses or just living life.

Roth had arranged for Layla to finish her degree via online courses, using his encrypted satellite internet signal, but that only occupied so much time. I audited cla.s.ses here and there, studying whatever interested me, but I wasn't working toward a degree; I just didn't see the point.

As for Roth...he was always busy. He stayed in constant communication with Robert, his business guru in New York, staying abreast of the few businesses he'd not already liquidated. He always seemed to be on a call via encrypted satellite phone. And when he wasn't on the phone, he attended to what seemed to be an endless stream of emails. And when he wasn't doing that, he and Harris spent a lot of time behind closed doors.

Usually, the four of us all had dinner together and, typically, it was a pretty lively affair. It had become another one of our onboard rituals, I guess. Harris was often gone a lot during the day, taking the helicopter from the s.h.i.+p to whichever sh.o.r.e was closest, doing some mysterious business or other. He never really said, and I never asked. But he was almost always back onboard s.h.i.+p for dinner.

Dinner that night was anything but lively; in fact it was slightly awkward. Layla's mood hadn't improved since she'd left the deck earlier in the afternoon. She wasn't even looking at Harris nor really talking to me. Harris was his usual taciturn self, except maybe more icily silent. Roth appeared to be lost in thought, working through plans, I supposed. Even under the best of circ.u.mstances I wasn't the best at idle chatter, and tonight I had even less to contribute in the conversation department.

So we ate in silence.

As soon as he was done eating, Harris thanked the steward, then excused himself from the table and disappeared from the dining room. Roth followed soon after, leaving Layla and me alone at the table. She continued to move her food around her plate, and I let the silence between us stand for all of perhaps three minutes, and then I had to break it.

”What's eating you, Layla?”

She shrugged. ”Nothing. I'm fine.”

I snorted. ”Please, Layla. We've been friends for too long for you to feed me that bulls.h.i.+t.”

She sighed, and set her fork down on her plate with a clatter. ”Kyrie...I've lost track of time. Like, legit, I don't even know how long we've been on this boat. I never know where we are. I don't know how long this is going to go on, and worst of all, even really why I'm here. I know what you and Roth and Harris have told me, but it's hard to have my entire life put on hold just because other people say 'Oh, Layla, you're in danger!' I don't get it, especially when I don't have anything to be worried about.” She glanced at me. ”Don't get me wrong, I love you, Roth is cool, and even Harris is pretty okay. And this boat is absolutely unbelievable. But...I just want to go home.”

”I get it, babe. I do.” I moved from my seat across the table from her to go and sit beside her. ”I don't even have a home to go back to. This is my home now. And as for why you're here...I don't want you to have to understand it. Believe me, I don't want you to know firsthand what could happen when you least expect it. You're here on this boat with us so we can keep you safe. Please, trust me on that. I've got your best interests at heart. I know it's...disruptive. But it's for the best. Believe me.”

She nodded. ”I hear you, Key. But hearing you say those things doesn't really help.” Layla leaned back in her chair, tipping it backward, balancing on the back legs. ”I know it may seem trivial to you, but when I said I was h.o.r.n.y, it wasn't a joke. I've never gone this long being totally alone. I'm not good at it.”

”At being h.o.r.n.y?” I said, trying to make a joke.

Layla just glared at me. ”No, you tool. I'm great at being h.o.r.n.y. What I don't do well is celibacy. I don't need a serious boyfriend or anything, but I do need a booty call, at the very least. I have needs.”

”And those needs aren't being met on the boat.”

”Not even a little bit.” She jabbed a finger at me. ”And don't you f.u.c.king dare suggest Harris again. We are not having that conversation.”

”Why not? What's wrong with Harris?” I'd probably regret ignoring her warning, but something about her reaction to my line of questioning niggled at my suspicions.

”Dammit, Key. Just leave it alone, would you?” She shot to her feet so fast her chair almost fell over. ”It's not happening. Let it go.”

”Jesus, Layla. You don't need to bite my head off.” I followed her as she stalked out of the dining room and made her way topside.

”Well you keep harping on it, and it's p.i.s.sing me off.”

”'Methinks the lady doth protest too much,'” I quoted at her.