Page 73 of Duty Unbound

The consistency struck me. Not just in subject matter, but in feeling. These weren’t random scenes. They were dreams captured in paint. The same dream, over and over.

“You’re up early.”

I turned to find Mel sitting up in bed, the sheet clutched to her chest. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks flushed with sleep or embarrassment—maybe both.

“Habit,” I said, gesturing to the paintings. “These are really good, Mel.”

She pulled the sheet higher. “They’re nothing special. Just something I do to relax.”

I studied the nearest canvas again. The brushwork was confident, the colors carefully chosen. “You have talent.”

“It’s just a hobby.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself like a toga. “I paint the same thing over and over. Not very creative.”

“But what you paint matters to you.” I watched her cross to her suitcase, avoiding my eyes. “If you weren’t managing Nova’s career, is this what you’d want to do? Be an artist?”

She laughed, but it sounded forced. “God, no. I’m not good enough for that.”

“Then what would you do?”

She pulled clothes from her bag, still not looking at me. “Does it matter? I have responsibilities.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She finally met my gaze, something defensive in her expression. “The tour’s almost over. After that…” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

I recognized the deflection. She’d done the same thing that night at the estate when I’d asked about her dreams. Always redirecting to Nova, to duty, to what needed to be done rather than what she wanted.

The difference between her and Samantha struck me like lightning. Both women were organized, efficient, capable of managing complex situations. But Samantha had wielded those skills like weapons, climbing over anyone who got in her way. Every move calculated to advance her position, gain more power, more recognition.

Mel used those same skills to serve others. To smooth paths, solve problems, make sure everyone else succeeded. She put herself last, always.

“You matter too,” I said softly.

“I know.” She turned away, busying herself with selecting clothes. “I need to shower. Nova will be up soon.”

I let it go. Pushing would only make her retreat further, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had. Not when everything still felt so new, so fragile.

“Do you need to get back to the team?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Not yet. Logan’s got it covered.”

She nodded, then surprised me by dropping the sheet and walking naked to the bathroom. “Good. Because I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

The bathroom door closed behind her, leaving me staring at the space where she’d been. I heard the shower start, pictured water running over her naked skin, and had to force myself not to follow.

Instead, I ordered room service—coffee, fruit, pastries. By the time she emerged, wrapped in a hotel robe with her hair damp, breakfast had arrived.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, eyeing the spread on the small table.

“I wanted to.” I pulled out a chair for her. “Sit. Eat.”

She settled into the chair, reaching for the coffeepot. “Thank you. For breakfast, but also…for last night. For coming back for me.”

“I told you—I’ll always come back for you.”

Her eyes met mine over the rim of her cup. “No one’s ever done that before. Put me first like that.”

“Their loss.”

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