Page 17 of Gilded

MALIA

T he sound of the chopper startles me from my intent focus. I stand from bonding my sculpture, drag off my respirator, and let it hang around my neck as I open the door and step onto the patio.

The helicopter that crosses the sky is black, but it could be any of the three men leaving. Luka’s only been here an hour, so I imagine it’s either Soren or my father. I continue to watch the clouds float past, wishing I’d had sex with Luka last week. I just want it behind me.

“Malia.”

I startle and turn. Luka is standing in the entry to the suite, and my heart rate spikes. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.”

His gaze roams the space as he saunters in, looking perfect in black pants and a black shirt, cuffs rolled up on his arms, exposing those tattoos, and holding what looks like building plans. “This is very…hotel-like.”

“That’s because my father can’t handle any show of individuality.” I step back into the living room but leave the door open to get the spring breeze on another warm day. “Was that Soren leaving?”

“And your father.”

“Where are they going?”

“Colombia.”

“As in the country ?”

“As in the country. James as well. I imagine some of the other guards went too, but I’m not sure which ones. Only that he’s left Toby to supervise whoever’s left.”

“ Both of them? Like, at the same time?”

“Like, at the same time,” he says with humor in his voice.

“What made that happen?”

“Your father got a phone call, and they left. Is that unusual?”

“Only because they never leave me alone when they go out of the country anymore.”

“Anymore?”

I think of Yari and break eye contact to look at the floor. “Since the, um, engagement.”

“If you can’t operate a boat or swim, why don’t they want you here alone? What do they think you’re going to do? Sprout wings and fly?”

“I don’t know how their minds work, and I don’t want to know. You’re not going?”

“No.”

“Let me guess—you’re staying to watch me.”

His head tilts. “Why are you such a threat to them?”

“What do you mean?”

“If they weren’t afraid of you, they wouldn’t put so much effort into trying to control you.”

That swings my view one hundred and eighty degrees. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“Is there some wicked side to you I haven’t seen yet?”

I shrug. “I guess everyone has a wicked side when pushed to their breaking point.”

He thinks about that. “Were you able to enjoy the phone while I was gone?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. “I did. Thank you for that.”

He’s grinning when he says, “No porn, right?”

Heat sears my cheeks. “Right.” The stitches are gone from his chin, and the bruises have almost faded to nothing. There are still a few healing cuts and scratches. “You look better. Your injuries are healing well.”

He nods, and his gaze slides slowly down my body. “What are you doing in here?”

I’m suddenly aware of how I look—wearing cutoff overalls with only one strap hooked and a tie-dye T-shirt. My hair is up and messy, and I’m wearing no makeup with the respirator hanging around my neck.

“Finishing up my structure for the gala. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“You don’t have to change for me. I like this look. In fact, I’d like any look on you.”

He sounds sincere, and I feel an entirely different sensation flowing from him today, but I’m having a hard time trusting my intuition when it comes to him. Nothing feels quite right.

“What’s this structure?” he asks.

“Structure, sculpture, I don’t know exactly what to call them. I auction them off at the galas to support different charities. Usually two or three a year.”

“What media requires a respirator?”

Ugh. Here we go. “Legos or, more accurately, the bonding of Legos.”

His brows rise, and a smile tilts his mouth. “Soren said you were probably playing with your Legos, but I didn’t understand. Are we talking those plastic blocks for kids? Like the one you were holding the last time I saw you?”

Another joy Soren will steal. But I’m determined to make that temporary. Make my life with these men nothing but a bad memory.

“Originally, they were created for kids, but they’ve grown in popularity with adults and have become quite sophisticated. I’ve been building with them since I was just a few years old.”

“That’s…”

Stupid. Immature. A waste of time. Childish. I know. I’ve heard them all.

“Fascinating,” he says instead. “What charity will the money go to?”

My nerves kick up, and my mind scours the potential problems of using this charity to extort money for my future.

I remind myself it’s not a real charity, but I’m all too aware that I’ll still be taking money that was meant for the less fortunate.

Only, now I see myself as one of those less fortunate.

Still, it bothers me. I’ll have to make up for it once I’m free. I’ll build a thousand Lego structures for charities in my future.

“Finding Forever,” I tell him.

“That’s not one of the charities you mentioned.”

“It hasn’t gotten off the ground yet. This will be the kickoff.”

“What does Finding Forever do?”

“It promotes the adoption of foster kids, so they can find their forever home.” I glance at the roll of paper that keeps tugging at my curiosity. “What’s that?”

“A map of your father’s facilities in South America.”

I frown. “Facilities?”

“His holding facilities. My team and I are going to put together security plans for each.”

“Oh.” Darkness blankets my shoulders. “Are there, um, a lot?”

“You’ve never seen these maps?”

“No. I mean, I’ve seen him and the security team looking at them occasionally, but I’ve never seen them myself.”

He picks it up. “Do you want to see it?”

“No.” My response is too quick, too forceful. My mind hazes, shielding me from the thoughts that want to sweep in. I swallow and force my gaze away with a milder “No.”

A moment passes while my mind is lost in ugliness.

“So, really no television?” His question helps me clear my head, and I find him looking around the living room.

“No.”

“Music, at least?” he asks.

I shake my head.

His brow creases in confusion. “Why not?”

“My father says they will poison my mind, but I think he just doesn’t want me to see the life he won’t let me live.”

“Finding anything interesting on the internet?”

I shrug, hiding the mixed emotions about all I discovered. “It’s a nice distraction, but I find myself just going in circles, not getting to the meat of things I want to know.”

He nods. “Going deep can be hard, depending on the topic. Text me a list of things you want to find, and I’ll send you links.”

That won’t be happening. “Thank you.”

“What did you make? With the Legos?”

I jump at the chance to change the subject. “A snake.”

The only thing that would have been more appropriate would be a sculpture of Satan. I glance toward my studio. Luka can’t see into the room from where he’s standing.

“It started as a dragon, but then the whole forced-marriage thing happened, so I tore it down and rebuilt it into a snake. I’ve named it Soro, for the two miserable men in my life. I had to add more scales and another twist in the tail. If I have time, I’ll add more teeth.”

He chuckles. “How do you decide what to make?”

“Depends. Sometimes, I’ll make something that fits the gala’s theme. Or I’ll tie into a particular campaign the recipient charity is having. I’ve made pandas, bunnies, architecture, Star Wars characters. I haven’t found anything I can’t make yet, given time and materials.”

“Can I see it?”

That request shocks me. No one wants to see my work outside of gala guests. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“Will you make fun of me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then yes.” I gesture toward my studio.

He’s still looking around the suite when he stops at the studio door and glances in. He immediately startles and steps back, catching himself on the doorframe with one hand, the other against his chest. “Holy shit.”

I’m laughing as Luka paces a circle, hand to his heart, wearing a grin that exposes him as a real person.

“Oh my God,” he says, laughing. “That’s not what I was expecting. It’s huge .”

“Eight feet. It’s the tallest one I’ve ever made.”

He gets close and inspects it for a long time before shaking his head. “This takes engineering, planning, a wicked amount of patience.”

I can’t stifle the joy I get from his compliments. “Practice gives you those things.”

“How the hell are you going to get it out of here?”

I gesture to the wall of windows. “That wall collapses on either side of the room. The groundskeepers box it up in here, and we use the chopper to get it to a truck and deliver it to the gala.”

“That seems like a lot of logistics. Given how controlling Hugo and Soren are, I guess I’m surprised they let you.”

“My father wasn’t thrilled at first, but they became the talk of the galas, and he soaked in the compliments, as if he had something to do with them. It also keeps me busy and out of his hair. But Soren’s already told me I’ll be giving it up when I move in with him.”

“You make two of these a year?”

“Or more. Sometimes I make little ones for special occasions. Ones a kid can take home. Like for Make-a-Wish.”

He steps into the office and peers at the fine details, marveling at the construction, both big and small. Then he sets his feet wide, crosses his arms, and just smiles at it. God, he looks so real . “In-fucking-credible.”

For the first time, I feel sincere warmth flowing from him.

“I’ve been offered a job as a Lego Master,” I tell him.

“No,” he says in disbelief. “That’s not a thing.”

“That’s a thing. They hire people to create these. Crazy, right? Get paid to play with Legos all day?”

“Would you want to do that?”

“In a heartbeat.”

He laughs. “Really.”

“Really.” I look at the snake. “I’m thinking my next project—if I ever get to make one—should be groomzilla.”

Luka drops his head back and laughs. The rich sound flows through my body, but what touches my heart is seeing this man so open, so alive. So normal. So human. This is what lives underneath the shell he wears. I can see why he’d need that compartmentalization he talked about.

“How much do these go for?” he asks.

“Depends on how the piece resonates with the attendees and what charity they’re for. Previous ones have gone for between two and ten million.”

His gaze whips back to mine. “ Million? ”

I nod. “Our supporters are generous.”

“Wow.” He wanders around the snake again and returns to me where I’m leaning on the door frame. He slides a strand of hair from my cheek and runs his knuckles along my jaw. “What would you like to do while your father and Soren are gone?”

“Nothing I’m allowed to do.”

“Like?”

I shake my head. “I don’t let my mind go there. Otherwise, I’d be even more miserable than I already am.”

“I have a few ideas.”

Those images I saw on the internet when I researched Soren’s sexual preferences fill my head, and I lower my gaze to Luka’s chest, swallowing hard.

“Up first,” he says, “would be teaching you how to swim.”

My gaze jumps back to his. “Swim?”

“Well, more like survive in the water until you can reach land or a boat or a life preserver. You can’t learn to swim in a few hours, but you can learn survival skills.

You shouldn’t be living on an island without knowing how to keep your head above water.

But I hope you know that at this time of the year, spending any more than thirty minutes in the ocean could cause hypothermia and death. ”

“I’ve heard that.” I’m struck by how this stranger cares more about my safety than my own father. “There’s supposed to be a storm coming in soon.”

“Not till after dark. We’ve got some time. Let’s do this. Then you can enjoy the pool and the ocean. And given you don’t have much joy in your life, this would be a small consolation.”

I exhale, unnerved by the idea of trusting him in the water.

“I asked Toby to heat up the pool so you’re not cold. Change into whatever suit you’re comfortable in. I’ll meet you outside.”