Page 20 of Entwined

“What is it Trevor?” I snap, pissed as fuck at myself, still unsure of what I did by unraveling us.

“Mikoto wants a meeting. He wants to make a formal offer in person. Should I arrange it?”

“No. We’ll go to Japan. I need to get the fuck out of Europe.”Before I do something stupid like re-kidnap a woman who has just been reported found.

“I’ll call his PA.”

“Don’t bother. Let’s just show up instead.”

I leave him flabbergasted as I stand up from the table, taking the paper with me. My flat in London is the only place with no memories of her. I assigned my butler, George, to stay here when I was playing lord of the manor with my dove. He wouldn’t approve of what I’d done. All my other “relationships” were consensual. Jessie was my first kidnapping. The first one who I needed at any cost. Only she was worth the risk of finding out if my heart could ever beat.

“George! Pack my things. We’re flying to Japan.”

“When, Sir?”

“Now.” He doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t stutter like Trevor. George is accustomed to how I live. But soon, the world will be shocked at what I do next.

My phone pings in my hand. Trevor sent me an email with six qualified candidates to be my new personal relations manager. Good. I’ll have something to read on the plane.

I sip a glass of scotch on ice while scrolling through résumés. They’re all the same. Excellent credentials, stellar academic records. But none of them pop out at me. None.

Or maybe it’s just the last time I was perusing résumés, I found Jessie’s.

With a sigh, I shut the lid to my laptop.

“Find me more, Trevor. None of these will do.”

“But, Sir… I tapped qualified people from the best PR firms in the world, just as you said.”

I shrug, “Think outside the box, Trevor. Find me someone hungry; unique. Dedicated. I need someone who will travel with me 24/7, be at my every beck and call—the sooner my image gets a makeover…”The sooner I can get back to her. The press will have a field day; the sea siren dragged from the ocean and the devil turned world’s prince. It’s the stuff of poets, movies, epic love stories—

“You need a pet not a PR person,” Trevor mutters under his breath.

“Scusí?”

“Nothing. I’ll get right on it.”

“Oh, and Trevor, I prefer paper résumés. Print them so I can make notes and staple pictures of each candidate to the corners.”

I sit back in my seat, feeling like a prick as I swirl the amber liquid in my glass. Sometimes, I miss being a dick.

The path to self-discovery is anything but boring. Maybe having emotions won’t change me as much as I thought. I’m terrified she might not want me back. What if being a devil is just my nature? What if I am who I was and choose to turn my back on what’s right.

Given the chance, I know I’d do it all over again. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. I’d still take her and place any remorse or guilt in a box, slamming the lid shut.

I stretch my long legs out in front of me just as my cell pings with a text:

Dimitri:There might be redemption for you after all. She’s back in America.

Motherfucker. He sends a picture of her sleeping. Her face is relaxed, the lips I remember wrapped around my cock, curved in slumber. My fist punches the seat. My jaw clenches. The glass breaks in my hand. Shards of it cut into my skin.

Dimitri:Payback is a bitch.

Me:Return her.

Dimitri:I can’t. Unlike you I don’t need to steal women. They come to me. Fuck she’s sweet when she comes, isn’t she?

Me:You’re dead. I mean it. You keep pushing me too far.

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