Page 14 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
Aviva let out a strangled noise that could have been a cough or a laugh. “Not stolen, remember? Adult.”
“Well, obviously not in your right mind, if you’re going along with whatever half-assed plan this asshole talked you into.”
Hendrick just shrugged, not even defending himself. “I told you to get four tickets. Who did you think the other one was for? My invisible friend?”
“You stopped seeing Jeffery when you were six.” Hendrick glared at me, and I gave him my own smug smirk back. “No, I foolishly believed you were bringing Nurse Ratched, or whatever her name was that you’ve been fucking for weeks. Convinced her to give you a little in-home care, one-on-one.”
Aviva flushed, and I chased away my guilt. She should know what she was signing herself up for if she went along with this. Hendrick just waved a hand like that was yesterday's news, which obviously it was.
Sampson broke the tension of the conversation by returning with a huge tray of pastries and a single coffee. He sat it in front of himself, obviously not willing to share.
I stood with a sigh. “You guys have the manners of barbarians.”
Sampson glared up at me from sleep-hooded eyes. “What? I’m not your fucking bitch, Otto.”
Still shaking my head, I looked at Aviva. “Come on, we’ll get you some breakfast.” Aviva went to grab her purse, which was cute, but I waved it away. “Nah, it’s all included in the ticket.” I led her through the line, collecting the things she pointed out and putting it on a tray. Fruit salad and yogurt. Healthy.
“So, what’s actually going on? Last time we met, I got the impression you hated Hendrick and everything he represented.”
She eyed a roast vegetable quiche. “Can I have three things?”
Her eyes were too big for her face. That’s what gave her that fragile doe-eyed look, even if her gaze was shrewd. “You can have one of everything if you want.”
She gave me a quick grin and put the quiche on the tray too, grabbing a tiny bottle of hot sauce. “I still hate everything he represents. But he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
I knew all about Hendrick’s deals. My jaw tensed at the idea of Aviva being one of the girls who threw themselves at Hendrick for his old ass family name and bulging trust fund.
She looked over, and I mustn’t have kept my thoughts off my face well enough, because she frowned too. “Not that kind of offer. I didn’t prostitute myself for a first class trip to New York, Otto. Jesus, you guys are all the same.”
She stepped around me and over to the beverage section, pulling out a herbal tea bag from the carefully curated collection of artisanal teas. She ignored me as she filled a cup with hot water and strode back to the couches.
Halfway there, she stopped and doubled back, not stopping until she was in front of me, as close as she could get with the tray between us. “Let’s get this straight. This isn’t some bad reboot of Pretty Woman. This wasn’t my fucking idea, but when life hands you an all-expenses-paid trip around Europe, you damn well take it. But there were three rules, and I’m gonna make them really clear to you and Sampson as well.”
She spun on her heel, marching back toward the guys until she was standing in between all the couches, her knees bumping the coffee table.
“Listen up. Rule number one: I’m not fuckinganyof you, so you can stop looking at me with those damn bedroom eyes,” she hissed, pointing at Sampson.
He grinned, and it was a shark smile. “Didn’t want to screw you anyway, Good Girl. You aren’t my type.”
I saw her shoulders stiffen, but she didn’t snark back. “Two: I’m not freeloading this. So, no paying for my food, or anything else. I’m paying Hendrick back the flights and hotels… eventually.”
It would take her a decade to pay off this flight from Tampa to NYC, let alone Europe, but I didn’t tell her that.
“Third thing?” I prompted. She looked at me over her shoulder.
“No questions. We do what I want to do, and go where I want to go, without the psychoanalysis.”
Yeah, that one might have been aimed directly at me.
“Viva, as long as you don’t wanna go to my place for dinner with my folks, I don’t care where the hell we go,” Hendrick joked, drinking some of Sampson’s coffee, and nearly losing a hand by way of a butter knife.
I waved Aviva into a seat and handed her the things she’d chosen for breakfast. “Sorry, Aviva. I wasn’t implying you were, uh, swapping one service for another. I just know Hendrick, and he could talk a nun into a tango between black silk sheets, you know?” I said in a low voice, because we were beginning to draw attention from the surrounding travelers. “I know you said no questions. But where are we going first?”
“New York City.”
Hendrick lifted his head up. “I need some stuff from there too.”
I hummed low. I was anxious to get out my journal and write notes, but I resisted. “And what about your passport?”
