Page 176 of Lethal Torture

“Oh, I know.” Liana gives a gurgle of laughter. “Luke spared us nothing. And seriously, I can’t wait to hear every sordid story. I mean it,” she says when I begin to demur. “I’m fascinated.

“Believe me,” she goes on, rather more soberly. “Luke’s and my upbringing was far from fucking rainbows and unicorns. But that’s exactly why you’re perfect for him,” she goes on before I can start to express sympathy. “Luke always needed dragons to slay. It’s why he went into the army, and why he was so good at it. Now he has dragons everywhere and a damsel to slay them for. You gave him a reason to live,” she says, giving me a watery smile. “And a family to fight for. You gave Luke a home. I will be forever grateful to you for that.”

A family?

I’m grateful for the sunglasses that hide my eyes. Not that they fool Liana. Watching me, her expression grows concerned. “Did I put my foot in it?” She says quietly. “Mentioning a family? Tommo is always telling me I should keep my thoughts to myself.”

I feel hot and cold all at once. “I’m not really sure that I’m cut out for a family,” I say quietly. “I don’t think I’m exactly mother material, if I’m honest.”

“You don’t, huh?”

I turn to find Liana looking at me with a slight smile on her face.

“No,” I say.

She looks at me for a long time, then lifts a shoulder, a knowing smile curling her mouth. “We’ll see.” There’s a smug note in her voice I don’t miss, but I don’t feel like questioning it, either. Children aren’t something Luke and I have discussed. I’m not sure it’s something I’m ready to even think about.

And for now,I think, pushing it from my mind,you don’t have to, Zinaida.I’m learning to trust Luke. To trust us together.

When we want to talk about children, we will.

We sit for a long time in companionable silence, drinking our margaritas and listening to the sounds of laughter and banter from the other end of the boat.

“Are you going to have a big wedding party back in London?” Liana asks eventually.

“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t publicly change my name from Melikov to Macarthur, or it would make Luke’s contracts at the port rather complicated. Our people know, and that’s enough. We’re not really wedding types. But,” I say, smiling at her, “apparently Luke has some big surprise planned with our friends in Spain, so I’m looking forward to that.”

“Ah, that.” Smiling smugly, she leans back on her cushions. “I might have heard a thing or two about that. I like your friend Darya, by the way.”

“Darya?” I stare at her in surprise. “How do you know Darya?”

“Ha. My lips are sealed.” Slipping her sunglasses over her nose, Liana mimics zipping her lips. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Zinaida Melikov Macarthur.”

“When doI get to take this damned blindfold off?”

Darya giggles. “Soon, I promise. It’s just a bit farther.”

“I better not fall,” I grumble. “These are Louboutins. They’re hard enough to walk in on a smooth surface, let alone whatever this is.”

I tentatively put one foot in front of another, trying and failing to work out where I am. I can smell jasmine and oranges and the distant scent of the sea, but beyond that, I have no idea at all.

Luke left London last night. Darya, who was clearly in on the plan, came to London to meet me, and we boarded a plane this morning. She spent a good hour fussing over my dress and makeup, then blindfolded me somewhere midair. I stayed that way through the landing, a chopper ride, and several muffled phone conversations that I’m apparently not allowed to hear.

“Okay, two more steps,” Darya says.

I hear a child giggle, and someone shush them.

Oh God,I think, my heart juddering uneasily.Is there a crowd?

Then, just as I’m beginning to deeply regret allowing whatever the hell this is to ever happen, a large hand slides around my waist, splaying reassuringly over my belly, and Luke’s deep voice rumbles against my ear. “Open your eyes, princess.”

He pulls the blindfold loose, and I gasp.

We’re standing on a wide terra-cotta terrace overlooking the sea, the sunlight so bright it hurts my eyes. Below the terrace a sandy track leads directly down to a golden beach, where perfect waves curl onto the shore.

Luke’s lips touch my cheek. “I wanted to surprise you,” he says, and despite his customary calm, I can hear the trace of uncertainty in his voice. “I thought, since the Madrid club is opening this week, you might want somewhere in Spain to call home.”

I turn in his arms, oblivious to the watching faces around us. Behind Luke is a large pool covered in floating flowers, and beyond that, a whitewashed cottage, with wooden shutters and jasmine crawling up the walls.