Page 140 of Wanted
As Queen of Katantia, I had to quench the fires.
MANDY
SOMETIME LATER
Our location was unknown to me.
I didn’t like being blindfolded.
Weston promised that it would be worth it, and these days I trusted him with my life.
“Do you think Valentina will be okay someday?” I asked.
Weston sighed. “She has to be.”
“I worry,” I revealed.
“We all do, and she knows that. She’s not alone,” Weston assured me. I heard a painful thud, followed by Weston cursing under his breath. “Fuck... I need new shoes, don’t I.”
“If you’d just tell me where we are,” I uttered, fiddling with the cloth on my face. If this was a new type of foreplay, I didn’t want it.
Weston let out a hasty breath. I heard his footsteps approach my side. His fingers touched my skull, and he loosened the blindfold.
The cloth fell to the ground. I took in the sun, the fresh air. We’d flown to the States in a jet from Katantia, dropping of half the family in Indianapolis. From that point, Weston hadn’t told me our final destination. We had our luggage, which consisted of clothes, Katantian sex toys, and lube. We traveled light because we didn’t have a home just yet.
Now, we did.
“Weston, what is this?” I asked, gesturing at the two-story house in the middle of nowhere. This wasn’t Illinois or Michigan. It was too hot, too green but not in a northeastern way, too windy.
“This is our new ranch,” he explained, and his excitement was contagious. “Far away from other... People. There’s a lot of space for us. We can do whatever we want here.”
“We’re all alone here?” I asked, my eyes scanning the area. Everything was brand new.
Weston nodded. “The next neighbors are ten minutes away.”
“And where exactly is this magical wonderland of nothing located?” I asked, teasing him.
“I thought you’d ask. We’re transplanted Texans now!” Weston stated this with a gleam of content in his eyes. Proudly, he stood by the rental car, posture open and inviting.
“Transplanted?” I repeated, slightly amused.
He nodded happily. “Let’s go inside. I have to give you a tour of this place.”
I took his hand, and we spent an hour walking around in our new place. Weston showed me each room, explaining its function. “... This can be your office.”
Weston revealed a room full of light and empty shelves, ready to be filled. The windows were huge, and there was a desk in front of them. I hurried over there, wanting to test out the feel of the place. A laptop waited for me on the desk, untouched and neat. I gawked at it.
Weston joined me. “The twenty authors and journalists I referred to for advice said this device is what all sophisticated writers use.”
I gulped down the tension in my throat. “A writer?”
He nodded.
“But I wouldn’t know where to start,” I blurted out. “I never even finished my degree!”
“Everybody starts somewhere, Mandy,” Weston said. He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Do you want to go back to college and finish your degree?”
I shook my head.
