Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(49)

“No metaphor.” Ethan chews on his lip, blushing awkwardly. “It’s a noisy game though. We’ll go play in my cabin.”

Ash grabs Leo’s hand to tug her along, and she treats me to another of her smiles. This one is calmer. Softer. I know she’s longed for an introduction to Ash; she’s probably been planning baking sessions and story book choices for months.

Honestly? I’ve never seriously considered introducing Ash and Leo. Our lives work just fine the way they are…or were. Ash is a little too desperate for a maternal figure in his life, and since Leo and I are hardly about to go prancing down an aisle any time soon, letting him get attached is a bad idea. In fact letting him get attached to a woman is a bad idea, full stop. Show me a man who isn’t somehow f*cked up by his mother, and I’ll show you a politically correct little hipster boy who retweets Kanye West for irony and has considered being vegan for at least nineteen seconds. And no, you don’t want to date that guy, because when you get down to it, he thinks he’s cleverer than you.

Now I find myself in circumstances where it’s unavoidable to keep Ash and Leo apart. As if things weren’t complicated enough.

“Behave yourselves,” I call after them. Then I turn to Gwen. “Get some rest. You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I’ll rephrase: you look like someone pissed in your eye.”

“You’re known for your tact, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “I tell it like it is. Keeps things simple.”

A beat.

Somewhere behind us, blotted down by walls, Ethan bellows, “Release the Kraken!” A barrage of shrieks ensues.

“Maybe now isn’t the best time to sleep after all,” I observe.

She hunches down in her chair, suddenly looking very small. “Maybe.”

I guess the last thing you want to hear is the sound of a happy kid playing when you’ve just broken up with the love of your life. On the phone tap, the guy sounded like an over-entitled douche anyway, but hey, Gwen’s halfway through her thirties and needs to get a move on if she wants to spawn. Can you hear that noise, grasshoppers? That sucking screech of a creak? It’s the sound of Cleopatrassistant’s ovaries shriveling just a little more with every second in my employ. And if you think it’s loud for us, imagine how loud it is for her.

Not that I’m complaining; I like staff with little family or friends. It’s just easier that way. Gwen’s cockface ex has done me a huge favor.

“I haven’t had chance to thank you yet for your hard work these past few days. It’s very much appreciated.” I pause to lower my voice. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, actually.”

“Just doing my job, sir.”

“It’s Aeron. Only Harvey calls me sir, and that’s because he’s missing his Domme already.”

She presses her lips together, trying not to smile.

Oh God, it’s too easy. Somebody reel me in…I wasn’t even joking about Harvey. Or at least I suspect I wasn’t.

“I’ll need you to keep an eye on my emails while we’re out here,” I tell her, “but otherwise, do yourself a favor and relax. I don’t know what’s up, but I can see you’re not quite right, so…” I manage a non-threatening, lop-sided smile. “Enjoy the sunshine.”

“Right.” She swallows. “Uh, thanks.”

“I know it’s hard being away from family, especially at such short notice. And especially when you won’t be able to contact them until it’s safe. But we’re a friendly bunch.” I give her a slight nudge with my elbow. “Leo actually came out to chat to you, but Ash has a habit of monopolizing people’s attention.”

“Leo seems nice. What I’ve seen of her, I mean.”

When she’s not shooting people, she’s quite personable.

“She could use a friend, all the shit she’s been through.” I almost throw in it’s lonely at the top, but stop myself at the last second. Must ham the f*ck down. “And while we may be running for our lives…at least we’re hiding in paradise, huh?”

She brightens, looking up to reach for her water bottle. “I’ve been a couple times before. Not to this island—I mean, there are hundreds of them—but you’ll like it. You’re literally in the middle of nowhere. I think…I think we’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be fine. It’s the media I’m worried about. When we’ve landed, you can let me know what the damage is like.”

She gulps down a heavy mouthful of water. “Um, I…”

“What?”

“I was going to ask you not to shoot the messenger.” She puts a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God.”

I lean in to whisper conspiratorially. “I’d laugh, but she might hear me and get all trigger happy all over again.” I’m the guy who can joke about his girlfriend’s little accident. I forgive and forget; I move on.

Like that ever did anything for anyone. Moving on is for lazy f*ckers who’d like to pretend that action exists without consequence, and that resentment fades with time.

“We’ve got around five hours until we land, correct?”

“Correct,” she replies.