Page 6

6

Hex

I put on my best hoodie I can find, the one with the moth and the lasagna print. It goes really well with my cosmic-inspired boot-cut pants and the white sneakers. If I am going to a secret luxury restaurant, I might as well dress to impress, right?

Mr. and Mrs. Lynx seemed nice, overall. They were older than Aran, so they could be my grandparents. Seeing as mine died before I was old enough to remember them, I’ve always wondered what it’s like to have someone like that to spoil you.

Not that Aran didn’t spoil me once he took over the role of my guardian. I’ve never lacked anything. But he’s also the man I’ve wanted to marry since I was a kid, so he never felt like family that way. He’s got it in his mind that we can’t be together—that the universe will collapse if he gives into the attraction I am one hundred percent convinced he feels toward me—so getting him to realize we are two pieces of the same puzzle has been extremely difficult.

But I’m not the type to give up. Nuh-uh. This is not just some crush I have on him like he seems to think. We are a done deal.

Happy with the way I look, I style my bangs to one side in front of the mirror attached to the bathroom door and head out… only to almost have the front door crash into my face as Aran enters our cabin. His face scrunches the moment he sees me, eyes narrowing and lips pressing into a line.

I wanted to avoid this. It’s why I left twenty minutes before our shift officially ended. I got this under control and I know what I am doing—he has nothing to worry about. Yet he seems just about ready to scold me.

Tough luck. I’m not really in the mood for a lecture, especially with all the excitement coursing in my veins at the prospect of directly contributing to the success of our mission. If there is one thing that can get Aran’s blood going, it’s performance. Meeting goals. Achieving whatever the objective is in an efficient and uncomplicated way. Which is exactly what I intend to do, if he just stopped blocking the way and let me go do my magic.

This is my first mission in the field ever, yes, but I’ve always wanted to taste the kind of real action you can’t get from behind a screen.

“What is this?” he demands, examining me like I’m a specimen in a museum. His left brow twitches as his eyes pause on my hoodie’s print.

I take a step back, puff out my lips, and cross my arms. “My best clothes, duh. I was just about to head to the entertainment deck… I remember where it is, so you don’t have to come with me,” I explain, looking down at my amazing outfit because meeting his probably exasperated gaze is only going to aggravate me. Aran aside, I’ve really outdone myself this time because I look like a supermodel about to go on the catwalk.

Aran’s nostrils flare. “Absolutely not. I am coming. And you are not wearing this .” He grabs me by the wrist and drags me into the bedroom. “I can’t believe you sneaked out during the end-of-day meeting and were planning to do this on your own.” He sighs dramatically as he begins digging through the suitcase of clothes he brought. “It’s a good thing the Chief didn’t notice.”

“Relax. I don’t need you to walk me to the meeting spot. I remember the way.”

He clenches the brown shirt he’s holding, making folds appear all over it. “I don’t like this. I think you should cancel.”

“No way! This is an opportunity we can’t miss. I’m not backing out.”

“Maybe they will agree to reschedule. This will give us more time to figure out a way for me to accompany you. If you manage to locate the second security roster, we can get the names of those who have access to the off-limits decks. That shou—”

“No.” I plant my hands firmly on my hips. “We are doing this today, like it or not. Have some trust in me.”

Straightening up, he trains his stormy gaze on my face. It’s so intense, I can’t help but wince internally.

“I can’t help it. I worry about you,” he says, the annoyance draining off his face in exchange for genuine concern.

He truly means that, and I suddenly can’t breathe. He cares about me more than he lets show. I can feel it in the air between us, in the way the tension in the room rises. My chest is too tight and too bubbly as it struggles to keep my madly beating heart in check. Fuuuck , I didn’t expect such a low blow. He doesn’t usually voice these kinds of things and so my mind has no idea how to take it.

As if my brain wasn’t jumbled enough, Aran inches in closer, tugging on the hem of my hoodie. I raise my arms and let him take it off, not sure what is happening. Did he get tired of the push-and-pull finally? Is he ready to confess? Does he want to take me to bed? My head spins with the possibilities.

Of course, none of my imaginary scenarios play out. My rose-tinted fantasies remain that—just fantasies. Aran Suwannarat is simply helping me change into the brown shirt he’s deemed appropriate for my dinner date with the two guests.

Still, I can’t help but feel giddy as his nimble fingers roam my body. They are gentle and measured as they button the shirt and help me put the dress pants on. Both articles of clothing belong to him, and after he’s tucked the shirt in, it doesn’t look too long anymore. With the help of safety pins, he makes a few more adjustments so it looks like the clothes were custom-tailored to me all along.

This is one of his magic skills. He has a hidden talent for making me look the best that I can, even if I am wearing someone else’s clothes. The size or the style never seem to matter.

Once Aran is done tweaking my appearance, I glance at my reflection in the mirror by the dresser. I don’t look like myself—gone is my colorful self, replaced by an elegant young man who could pass as the heir to any multibillion-dollar business. I like it, and I get the feeling that it will help me get my two companions’ guards down. After all, who wouldn’t want to have a cute grandson like me?

“This looks a lot better,” Aran deems, smoothing out my shirt’s collar. He undoes the top button and tightens the cuffs. “Is it comfortable?”

I stretch and shake my arms, spinning in a circle. “It is, but the sides are a bit loose.”

Nodding, he stands behind me and slides his hands down my flanks, pulling on the fabric to make it tighter. “How is this?”

I bite off a moan. This feels amazing. I can smell his scent in the air around me, I can feel his heat. His hands are resting on my waist, tentative but firm. I’m in heaven.

“Infinitely better.”

I hear a noise that could be a scoff, a snort or a stifled chuckle. One of his hands glides further down, dipping inside my pants where it secures the fabric with a safety pin. Once he’s repeated that for the other side of the shirt, he gestures to me to do another spin.

Humming in satisfaction, he runs a hand through my just-styled hair. “Stop it, Aran! You’re ruining it!”

“It looks better this way,” he insists, and continues to ruffle my hair.

I try to fight him on it, but he wraps one arm around my neck and doesn’t let me escape. From then on, I mostly pretend I want to get free. I mean, I rarely get not-quite-hugs like these, so I’m not about to cut it short. He can shave me bald for all I care for as long as it means I get to be close to him like this.

By the time he’s done with my hair, I look like I’ve just gotten out of bed, but in a good way. In a casual but charming way. He really does have a great eye for these things.

“You are ready now,” he says, meeting my gaze in the mirror as he props his chin on my head and clasps my shoulder.

Oh my god. We look so adorably good together like this. How doesn’t he see it?

“Thanks. Can we go now?” I whine, not sure what to do with my sprinting heart.

I went from annoyed to buzzing in the span of five minutes. All he had to do was give me some of his attention. It’s unfair. I want it all the time. I want him smiling and hugging and kissing me like he should’ve been doing since the day I turned eighteen.

But no. Aran is too stuck-up for that. Too stubborn. He cares so much about the promise he made to my father that he’s missing what’s right in front of him—a real catch. The catch. I don’t need his protection anymore—I need his affection .

He walks over to the door and holds it for me, his eyes not leaving me even as I blow him an air kiss. In three seconds, he’ll frown, maybe even sigh. I know it’s coming.

And then he surprises me, letting a tiny smile sneak past his defenses as he shakes his head and ushers me to go with his chin.

I blink, not really computing. This is new. But I’m not about to complain or point it out, because he might take it back then. I just store it in my memory so I can examine it later, and make my way out of our cabin without daring to look back.

Ten minutes later, we make it to the entertainment deck’s biggest stage.

“You look lovely, dear,” Mrs. Lynx says, waving us over and beaming a smile at me that’s a little too wide.

I dip my head and wrap my arm around her outstretched one. “Thank you. I’m really excited to get to know you both.”

“Oh, my. So are we, right, Mr. Lynx?” she tosses at her companion, who, if I had to guess, must be her husband.

“Indeed,” he agrees, nodding at Aran, who’s standing a few feet behind me.

“Thank you for making sure charming Hex didn’t get lost on the way here,” the woman says, herding me toward the tall door of the off-limits area. “We’ll see him off to his cabin after dinner, so you don’t have to wait.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” Aran produces a small paperback from somewhere. It has a holographic golden retriever and girl on the cover. “I’ll wait for him here.”

Mrs. Lynx pulls me closer to her, her megawatt smile dimming a little. “Very well then. We’ll see you in a few hours.”

Aran tilts his head. “Enjoy your dinner and don’t let Hex cause you too much trouble.”

Gee, thanks. I’m not that bad. Besides, he should be assuring them what a great dinner company I am, not bringing to their attention that I might cause trouble.

“Oh, my, you are so funny…” She squints at the badge on his uniform, which he didn’t have time to change out of. “Mr. Suwan. I am sure that Hex is a real sweetheart.”

I nudge her playfully on the arm, flashing her a friendly smile. “I am! Don’t listen to him. He’s just grumpy by nature and doesn’t know how to have fun. We’re gonna have an amazing time.”

Laughing, she scans her ID bracelet at the door’s terminal. Her partner walks into the opulent corridor on the other side first and then so do we. As the door closes behind us, I throw a glance over my shoulder.

Aran is standing there with his book, his face clouded with doubt. I replay his words from earlier, smiling because I can’t help it. My chest feels fluttery and warm. He cares about me, it’s confirmed. This cruise was such a gigabrain move. And dinner tonight? If I can pull off what I have planned, Aran will have no choice but to recognize that I am no longer a helpless kid who needs someone to look after him. I’m a grown-up man. His duty to my father has long been paid off, and the only reason he’s stuck around is because he wants to.

Because even if he’s not ready to acknowledge it—which will change by the end of this trip—he likes me.