Page 30 of Hidden Empire
“I figured you were canoodling with some poor fuck, and knew if I left you alone, I’d get to toss him off the ship. Pity to be wrong, it would have brought some joy to this otherwise boring day.”
The idea of Nico and my mystery man going at it is a horrid one. Nico is more than skilled, I know this, but the quiet man’s size would certainly give him some trouble.
A sad thought begins to swirl in my head. What if the mystery man is an heir? If he is, my brothers couldn’t just toss him off of the ship without starting a war outside of Empire’s walls. Would that stop them? Would they start a war over a crush?
Shaking off the question, I stay calm. Everything is going to be fine. I’m not talking myself out of seeing him again. I just want to.
I met the man just a few minutes ago, and he could be awful, but somehow I know he’s not. He could want nothing to do with me, but if he does? Well, who am I to deprive myself of something I want? Life has taken so many things from me. It can give a few things in return, I think.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I wheeze. “Wouldn’t want you to get too bored on the luxury ship on our trip to the elite private college Dad pays for.”
“You’re forgiven,” Nico says amicably, flipping another page with a fluid swish of his hand.
Squirming in Matteo’s arms I push him off, barely. “Can you let me go now before I pass out from a lack of oxygen?”
He releases me, only to move on to shaking my shoulders. “Don’t do that again. I’m going to get wrinkles and start looking like fucking Apollo.”
“Apollo doesn’t have wrinkles,” I jest, but it’s true. His skin is practically flawless. Like he was made by a machine instead of people.
Matteo huffs. “Apollo doesn’t have the emotional depth required to create wrinkles, but he’s still old.”
Lovingly, I pat his cheek. “Are you being pouty? Have you not had enough juice today?”
“Ughhh,” he groans loudly. “Don’t get Armani started about the fucking juice.”
The next couple of hours seem to go by at lightning speed.
Most of my time is spent listening to Matteo crack jokes about whatever is on the TV and thinking about my mystery guy. I’m still thinking about him when Remo offers to take me to the top deck to watch the boat drift into the dock.
In my defense, it’s only logical to wonder about him while walking around the boat. I mean, I could see him again! Talk to him, no. But admiring from afar is on the table for sure.
Remo guards me differently than Armani and Matteo typically do. He doesn’t put a hand on me but walks alongside me in a domineering stay-the-fuck-back manner. Remo is probably my quietest brother, next to Cassio. Sometimes I wonder if Remo isn’t really quiet, and he’s just sad like Cassio. When you have nine new brothers, all ranging in age and personality, it’s hard to feel like you know all of them.
“Brace for wind,” Remo advises, reaching for a door to the top floor of the ship.
Unsure how strong the wind will be if it comes with a warning, I clutch his forearm with my hand, wrapping my fingers around it tightly.
His eyes shoot down, looking at where we’re connected. I almost pull away, thinking I’ve crossed a line for him when he looks back up at me. “You’ll be okay. I won’t let you blow away.”
“Is that a possibility?” I ask nervously.
“Come on,” he says, pulling me through the door with a little tug.
The wind whips through my hair but doesn’t make me sway on my feet. Remo’s brunette curls twirl around his face, sweeping over his eyes, but he doesn’t struggle to move it. I, on the other hand, immediately tie my hair back into a low bun to keep it more manageable. Smaller pieces continue to blow around my ears and neck, but the bundles of waves no longer invade my vision.
I continue to hold his arm until we’re at the edge, where I can grip the railing for stability. The cool metal sends a wave of goosebumps up my arms, but my little cardigan keeps me warm. It’s an optional uniform addition, and I understand why now. It doesn’t look like I’m going to be too hot any time soon.
“That’s it there,” he points outward, gesturing to the body of land emerging from the foggy air ahead.
“Whoa,” I comment, genuinely lost for all other words.
The view is incredible and nothing like I could have pictured. Matteo has mentioned this place a million times, but he’s never mentioned how beautiful it is. For him, this place isn’t about what it looks like but what it does for him. I could never witness something like this and not mention how gorgeous it is.
The smell of warm salt water floats around us as I stare. The island isn’t tropical but more like a forest. There is midnight black sand on the shore, but not far behind it, the trees begin. Tall, and daunting, they look like they go on for miles. Their leaves are a lush dark green, showing off that they’re healthy and strong.
The sky is a murky dark gray with angry-looking clouds circling above, only allowing peaks of sun to push through. It looks more like somewhere in the Pacific Northwest than it does a secret island hours away from the coast.
I’m not even going to pretend to know how weather and climate work to theorize about the island’s conditions. I’m just going to take the win because if this place was hot and sunny, I would be sweaty and sunburnt by day two. Don’t get me wrong, my hands and feet get cold easily, and it sucks when I can’t bury them into a nice chunky blanket. But at the end of the day, I’m the kind of girl who thrives when it’s a little bit chilly. R.I.P. to the summer girls who will not be enjoying this location as much as I will.