Page 41

KLAUS

“ W hy can’t we go to Disney World?” James asks, looking up at me with big eyes.

“Because this isn’t a fun trip,” Rosalie answers.

“This can be a fun trip,” Emma says.

“Oh, really?” Rosalie asks. “Name one thing we’re doing that’s fun.”

Emma looks at me for help, but I really don’t know what to say. We landed in Chicago about ten minutes ago, and a convoy is taking us to Vera’s residence.

“Well, we’re meeting one of your uncle’s friends for dinner,” Emma says.

“We have dinner every night,” Rosalie says. “That’s not special.”

“Yeah, that’s not special,” James parrots, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking adorably pissed off.

“If it’s alright with your uncle, maybe we can make a little detour,” Emma suggests. There’s a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

My immediate instinct is to shut this idea down, but the sight of their hopeful expressions arrests me.

“What kind of detour?” Rosalie asks, glancing between the two of us.

“How does ice-skating sound?” Emma asks.

I’m shaking my head, but the kids are already bouncing in their seats with excitement. I’m outnumbered.

Twenty minutes later, we’re standing in front of the ice rink at Millennium Park. My security team has infiltrated the crowd, so they’ll be keeping watch over any potential threats.

“Today is my favorite day,” Rosalie says with glee.

The kids take off onto the rink with their assigned bodyguards.

“Let me guess, you just want to watch ?” Emma asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

I’m a little tongue-tied as I look at her. She makes me feel like an adolescent boy who has a crush on a girl for the first time. It feels like my whole world revolves around her now.

“I’ll stay on the sidelines,” I say, clearing my throat. “Someone has to supervise.”

“At least have the guts to say the truth.” She smirks at me.

“What?”

“You’re afraid you’re not going to be good at it,” she says. Her breath comes out in puffs. “And now, you’re going to tell me you’re old enough to know what you like and don’t like.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” I ask.

She gets on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. My hand flexes over the small of her back, pulling her closer. But she slips away like a fairy.

“Suit yourself,” she calls over her shoulder. “But don’t blame me when the kids ask why you chickened out.”

I sigh. She sure knows how to get her way.

She gives me a big smile when I catch up with her.

“You better not let me fall,” I say.

“Never,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “You’re in good hands.”

I let her take me to the rink. The rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and me.

“It’s not that hard, I promise.” She laughs at the hesitation on my face—a light, carefree sound that melts the tension from my shoulders.

“This is silly,” I say.

“It’s never too late to try something new for the first time,” she says. “And even if you end up sucking at it, who cares?”

“I don’t like doing things I’m not good at,” I say.

“I used to be that way, too,” she says. “I never tried anything new. I never did anything for the first time. But there’s some sort of magic that finds you when you step outside your comfort zone.”

There’s a dreamlike look in her eyes. It makes me wonder what’s going through her head.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” I say softly.

She blinks and looks up at me. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. Some of the light fades from her eyes. I get a vague feeling that she’s keeping something from me.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see a group of kids skating in our direction. Before they can barrel into Emma, I tug her closer toward me.

The sweet, buttery scent of her skin fills my lungs. It feels like coming back to a childhood home. It feels like a scent you’ve long forgotten, but now that you smell it, all that exists in your head are fond memories.

She clears her throat and steps away from me.

The glow of the twinkling string lights falls on her face, making her look like an angel. The Chicago skyline wraps around us like a living postcard.

“You look so radiant this evening,” I say.

“Lies,” she says. “I know I look like a hot mess.”

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

For a moment, the two of us remain frozen in time. Emma blinks and glances down at my legs.

“Keep a slight bend at your knees,” she says. “It’ll help with your balance.”

I do as she instructs, letting her lead me deeper inside the rink. She seems to levitate over the ice. Unfortunately, I’m doing the opposite of levitating.

“Push off with your other foot and glide,” she says, demonstrating the movement.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a natural.” I stomp on the ice. My feet lack the elegance that she seems to have.

“It’s like riding a bike,” she says. “You just need to get the hang of it.”

“Uncle Klaus, look at me,” Rosalie zips by us, skating backward. James is a lot slower and clumsier than his sister, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” I say. “You too, James.”

The kids wave goodbye. Emma tugs on my hand.

“Now, it’s your turn,” she says.

I’m not talented by any means, but Emma is a good teacher. And more importantly, she keeps her promise and doesn’t let me fall.

“Not bad for your first time, Mr. Sinclair,” she says.

I give her a warning look.

“What?” she asks.

“You know what it does to me when you call me that,” I say.

“What does it do?” she asks.

I glance over at her. The cold wind blows her curls back. She looks like a scene from a movie.

“It puts images in my head,” I say. “Of you on your knees. Looking up at me with those big eyes as you call me Mr. Sinclair. Just like you did this morning.”

Her lips pop open in surprise.

“Is your mind always this dirty?” she asks.

“You’re the only woman I fucked in over a decade,” I say. “Not to mention, you’re a complete knockout. It’s a miracle I don’t have you chained to a bed in my basement.”

“I really found myself a gentleman.” She shakes her head, making her loose curls rearrange themselves on her chest.

I’m fascinated by every little detail about this girl. This obsession should scare me to death, but I can’t bring myself to approach this analytically. I lost all common sense the second I kissed her lips.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, Mr. Sinclair,” she says, looking at me from underneath her lashes.

She’s toying with me on purpose now. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“You’re going to pay for this tonight,” I say, wrapping my arm around her small waist.

She giggles and slips away from me. She skates backward, keeping those beautiful eyes on me as her speed picks up. Every step she takes is graceful, her skates cutting soft lines into the ice.

When she turns and glances over her shoulder, I hold my breath.

If I were an artist, there’s no doubt that she would be my muse. I’d write poems about her eyes. I’d sculpt marble to encapsulate the beauty of her form. I’d paint portraits that show her spirit.

She spins for me now, gathering speed as she spins once, twice, three times. Her limbs are a blur as she moves. I hold my breath as she leaps into the air. She levitates there, unbothered by gravity. She spins twice in the air before her skates land gracefully on the rink, light as a feather.

She’s lost in her own world now.

My chest seizes with a foreign emotion I haven’t felt in ages.

Love.

I think I love this girl.

Just as I think that, she slows. Her arms unfurl like the petals of a flower opening. Her cheeks are flushed as she stops and looks right at me. Whatever she sees on my face makes her smile widen.

She skates toward me.

“Show-off,” I say, holding her waist as she stops before me.

“I was trying to impress you.” She tilts her head to the side.

“Where did you learn to skate like that?” I ask her.

“Every kid who grew up in Ravenwood knows how to skate,” she says. “It’s basically a rite of passage. How is it that you never learned?”

“Outdoor activities have always been more of my sister’s thing. I was more into computers and video games.”

“The lake is beautiful in the winter,” she says.

I nod in agreement.

I’ve been to the Ravenwood Lake before. It freezes over every winter, and the place fills with kids skating and hanging out.

“They sell this hot chocolate there that’s to die for,” she says. “It tastes like heaven after an hour or two of skating. My mom used to?—”

She breaks off. Her cheeks redden, and I know it has nothing to do with the cold.

If I were talking to any other person on the planet, I wouldn’t care to probe into their past. But it’s Emma. I want to know everything about her. Not just the things that make her happy but also the things that make her heart hurt.

“You used to go skating with your mother?” I ask.

Her eyes turn glassy. She nods and glances down at her feet.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Every Sunday. She used to work six days a week, so I barely got any time with her. But every Sunday, she was all mine. We used to start the day with chocolate- chip pancakes, then head straight to the lake. We swam in the summers, but wintertime was my favorite. She taught me how to skate. She’s the reason I love skating so much. ”

She exhales slowly, like she’s trying hard not to cry.

“She would be so proud of the woman you’ve become,” I say, squeezing her hand.

Emma looks up at me. She doesn’t bother to fight the tears anymore.

“No,” she says. “No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even recognize the woman I’ve become.”

She wipes her eyes with the back of her gloves.

“What about your father?” I ask her.

She turns unnaturally still.

Without looking at me, she says, “You couldn’t find anything about him in all your research, could you?”

I try to crouch to meet her eyes, but my balance won’t allow it. We’re still standing on ice. Instead, I tug her closer toward me and gather her hands in mine.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I say.

“I never had a father, Klaus,” she says, looking up at me. “He might as well be an anonymous sperm donor.”