Page 49 of Troubled Skies (Blue Skies #3)

“Why would you try not to fall in love, chéri? I do not understand.”

“Because you’re…you, and I’m…me, and my life doesn’t work out this way.”

“Even though it has?” When Adrian sobbed even harder, Ren pulled him closer. Adrian was trembling. “You do not believe me.” Ren stated it as a fact, confirmed by Adrian’s nod. “But, it is true. Mon trésor. Mon amour. I love you. I want to be with you.”

Adrian sniffled. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

“This is a good thing, non? That we love each other?” When Adrian nodded, Ren sighed. “Whatever it is you are afraid of, whatever it is that is causing you such sorrow, we will figure it out, poussin. Together. I promise.” Ren leaned down but paused. “May I kiss you?”

Adrian laughed and nodded, and Ren closed the distance between them tasting salt as his lips met Adrian’s. Salt from his skin, salt from Adrian’s tears, but happiness as well. And the promise of something more.

“I would have liked to give you a beautiful dinner, chéri, with roses and champagne and candlelight, to give you something beautiful to show you how much you mean to me, but, alas, that will have to wait until we are somewhere alone.”

With a huff, Adrian leaned back so he could meet Ren’s gaze. “If you think I need all of that, you don’t know me at all.”

Ren was about to respond when the door to the cabin banged open, and Maurice burst through, a glass of something red and fruity in his hand.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said. The drink he held dripped onto the carpet as he crossed the room, a finger pointed at Ren.

Then he looked at Adrian and extended his hand.

“I’m Maurice. And you must be Ren’s entertainment. ”

Those words sucked all the air from the cabin as Ren watched Adrian absorb them like a physical blow.

He could not believe his friend would say something so careless, so hurtful, but more that he would say them to someone Ren loved.

But Maurice did not know that yet. Ren had only just admitted it to Adrian.

He slid his arm around Adrian’s shoulders and whispered in his ear, “Do not mind Maurice, poussin, he is an idiot.” To Maurice, he said, “Adrian is someone special to me. You should apologize.”

Maurice’s eyes grew wide and then turned cunning as he extended his hand again. “My apologies, Adrian, you caught me by surprise, and I’m in that awkward place between too drunk to watch my words and not enough to stop giving a fuck. Anyone special to Henri is special to me.”

“Thank you,” Adrian said, but Ren could feel the tension in his body, the anger simmering beneath the surface as he accepted Maurice’s handshake. “Ren’s told me a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to put a face to the name.”

“Ah,” Maurice said without letting go of Adrian’s hand. “Whatever he’s told you, it’s all lies. Between us, I am the much more charming one.”

“I’m sure,” Adrian said. He withdrew his hand from Maurice’s grasp. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m—”

Adrian got no further because Maurice had spied the open suitcase. “Are you leaving us?” he asked. “But the party’s just arrived. You have to stay and get to know all of Henri’s friends.”

“What would you like, poussin?” Ren asked. “You are free to—”

“Okay.” Adrian smiled, but Ren could see it was forced. “It would be great to meet your friends.”

The party was in full swing by the time they got back to the pool.

Maurice had been on the Belle enough times to know where the liquor was stored and had opened up the compartment before seeking Ren.

It was like a scene from a bacchanalia. Unwilling to wait for the stews, people had brought out cases of wine and champagne and bottles of liquor.

Someone was behind the bar mixing up the vivid red drink Maurice had in his hands, and there were already cups of it floating in the pool.

Ren was horrified to see a bottle of his father’s prized Chateau Lafite Rothschild on its side bleeding red wine onto the Belle’s teak decking while another spilled across one of the tables.

Hazy memories stirred to life in Ren’s mind of trashed hotel rooms and crazed parties, irate neighbors calling the police and ridiculous bills for damages, all of which his father had paid. Until he’d reached the end of his tolerance and banished Ren to this trip.

As Ren gazed around the pool, his hand wrapped around Adrian’s, he had a revelation.

This was what his life had been like. This careless destruction and disregard for things others might consider special.

And more. Ren realized he’d never been sober enough to really appreciate how selfish his friends truly were.

The hand that held his squeezed tight, and he turned to look at Adrian, Maurice’s casual remark about Adrian being merely entertainment ringing in his ears.

“I am sorry for what he said to you, poussin,” he said.

“Is this what you do?” Adrian asked. “Is this what you’re like when you’re with them?”

“I am ashamed to admit that it is. It was.” Ren raised Adrian’s hand to his lips then smiled at him.

“This trip has changed me, mon cher. You have changed me. Merci, mon c?ur.” He turned his attention back to his friends.

“I do not know what to do. I cannot let them continue, but I do not know how to stop them.”

Adrian smiled. This time it was a real smile. “Leave that to me.”

With gratitude, Ren watched Adrian wade into the middle of his friends, deftly righting bottles and taking drinks from the worst of the offenders with a practiced ease.

He was telling everyone they needed to leave, getting in the face of someone who was belligerently arguing they had every right to be where they were because Ren had invited them.

“No, he did not,” Adrian argued back with the fierceness of a lion.

Maurice watched in amusement, but instead of helping, he got in Adrian’s way, deliberately knocking over a bottle of champagne that fizzed onto the deck.

Ren opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a booming voice from above.

At first, Ren worried that resort security had arrived, but then he realized it was much worse.

“Henri Renard, what is the meaning of this?”

His father had arrived. He stood on the aft deck with the captain by his side. And he was not happy.

An hour later, Ren was on his hands and knees scrubbing the red wine stain from the pool decking.

He was angry at himself for letting things get out of hand, at his friends for the havoc they’d caused in such a short amount of time, and at his father for sending Adrian away.

No matter how Ren had tried to explain that Adrian was not to blame, that Adrian had been trying to help, that Adrian was not part of the group and had been his guest, his father had refused to listen.

He wanted everyone off the ship. And then he told Ren it was his responsibility to clean up the mess his friends had created.

“You will stay out here until it’s done. Then you will come speak to me,” he’d said before turning his back and striding through the doors, the captain following in his wake.

Ren hadn’t had a chance to speak with Adrian, to apologize, to tell Adrian he would call as soon as he was able.

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, and he paused with the brush in his hand.

Merde . He did not have Adrian’s information.

They had not exchanged it because there had been no need when they were together every hour of every day.

As he finished the deck, Ren had one thing in his mind: get to the cabin.

He hoped Adrian was still there, though the chances of that were slim as the water taxi had arrived within fifteen minutes, and the Belle’s tender had launched about half an hour after that.

But perhaps Adrian had left him a note. That thought carried him through the rest of his task.

After putting away the cleaning supplies, Ren hurried inside, only to be stopped by the First Officer.

“Your father is waiting in his office, Your Highness.”

“Oui. Je sais. But I am filthy and would like to clean up before I go to my execution.”

It was a ruse. Ren couldn’t have cared less that his shirt and shorts were stained or that he reeked of sweat.

His father had ordered him to do manual labor, he could endure its effects.

What Ren cared about was getting to the cabin, and thankfully, the First Officer nodded his head, though he accompanied Ren up the stairs, then positioned himself at the door to the cabin.

“Am I under arrest?” Ren asked, but the First Officer didn’t move. Ren shrugged and let himself into the cabin. The only thing that mattered was discovering if Adrian remained onboard.

The cabin was empty. Not only was it empty, but the stews had already been in to clean and remake the bed, so it felt as if Adrian had never been there at all.

Ren rushed to the closet and found it as he suspected he would.

All of Adrian’s clothes were gone, but everything Ren had given Adrian remained including the Birkin.

When he opened the drawer, he found the pearls, as he knew he would, but he also found a check, made out to Adrian for one million euros.

It was from his father and dated that day.

Clutching the check in his hand, Ren rushed past the First Officer and stormed up to his father’s office.

He entered without knocking. It was an incredible breach of protocol, but it seemed his father had been anticipating it.

His back was to the door as he faced the computer screens that lined the console behind his desk.

Without turning to face Ren, he told him to take a seat.

Instead of complying, Ren slapped the check on the desk. “What have you done?” he asked.

“I asked you to be seated, Henri.” His father typed something on his keyboard, but when Ren didn’t move, he sighed and turned to face him. He pushed a piece of paper across his desk. “I cleaned up your mess.”