Page 60 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
I chewed my lip, but didn’t say anything else. I just soaked up the peaceful silence, Otto not needing to fill the space the way that Hendrick did, or control the moment like Sampson. With Otto, I could just be me. Aviva. Fucked up, a little neurotic, but me. I don’t think he knew how much I really appreciated him.
After I’d thought about nothing but the warm water for thirty minutes, Otto helped me out of the bath, wrapping me in one of those fluffy, expensive hotel towels.
Someone—I was going to guess Sampson—had laid me out fresh clothes, including another pair of Otto’s boxers. I flushed, but Otto didn’t seem to care.
He kissed the top of my head and left me to dry off. “I’ll let you get dressed, and go and get you something to eat.”
I groaned but didn’t protest. I spent a moment brushing out and braiding my hair, and by the time I was done, I was exhausted. The door to my bedroom opened, and Hendrick shuffled in. He looked gray, but freshly showered. He was only in boxer shorts, and his whole body seemed smaller somehow.
“You look how I feel,” I teased, and he gave me half a smile. He climbed into my bed, snuggling under the covers, and grunted.
Well, guess we were snuggling then. I climbed in beside him, and he dragged me closer to his body, so he was hugging my back to his chest like I was a teddy bear.
He inhaled deeply. “You smell pretty. And how the hell are you so soft?” he grumbled, stroking softly up and down my stomach.
“Vagina magic.”
He huffed a laugh. “I fucking believe it. Gotta have some magic, Viva. Nothing else explains it,” he mumbled.
I frowned. “Explains what?”
But he was already asleep. His body was warm, his arm over my waist a comforting heaviness. I fell asleep, wrapped in the encompassing presence that was Hendrick, before Otto even returned.
Chapter32
Hendrick
Fuck, I could murder a hamburger right now. Probably not the time or the place to ask though. I was an asshole, but I could respect people who believed in something, even if I didn’t. Hell, I was almost envious. For my entire life, I hadn’t put my faith in anyone who wasn’t in this cab with me right now, and definitely not in some higher power.
Sampson might believe he was a god, but I was fairly sure he was still a man.
We were heading to the airport once again, on our way to Japan. Yokohama, to be exact. This asshole, Nemo, definitely thought he was some globe-hopping Verne wannabe. When the new security douches got back from that nightmare bookstore with a copy ofFive Weeks in a Balloon,I’d wanted to throw it in the sparkling fucking hotel pool. I thought we’d be done.
It should’ve been impossible to find a single book in that store, because it was a mess. Viva had been too sick to look herself, and we could have just said ‘oh well, better luck next obsession.’ But no, Evan was a fucking perfectionist, and he wouldn’t let this crap rest. Like he’d made it his own personal mission.
Maybe he just wanted to go home to his wife or girlfriend or goldfish. Whatever the hell he had. He was a good-looking guy, I could admit that much. Not the kind of gem you’d pick from a jewelry store, but the kind of shiny stone you found on a nature trail, took home, and kept as a paperweight forever.
Maybe I should buy Viva some jewelry. Girls liked jewelry. Though not a ring—wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Maybe a necklace. Maybe an opal.
“For fuck’s sake, Hendrick, stop thinking so loud,” Sampson grumbled from where he was napping beside me.
“You can’t hear me think, dickhead. Right, Otto?”
Otto laughed sheepishly. “Well, you kind of can. You grind your teeth and tap your fingers on your thigh. Sigh a lot.”
“You can hear your two brain cells crashing together like symbols,” Sampson added, and I reached over Aviva and punched him in the thigh. She gave a husky chuckle that made my dick hard, and I resisted the urge to pull her onto my lap.
I pouted and stared out my window, frowning until Viva laced her fingers with mine. She looked a lot better, and I never wanted to see her that sick ever again. Fuck, I never wanted tobethat sick again, either. Though I hadn’t minded spooning with Aviva while we spent the last five days recuperating in bed. We’d all binge-watched a Henry Cavill series together, which had enough violence to keep Sampson entertained, and enough Cavill in leather to keep the rest of us riveted to the screen. Honestly, it had been the best five days I’d had in ages, and we didn’t even leave the room. It was all because of her.
Fuck, I didn’t deserve Aviva. She’d been right when we first met. I was an entitled asshole who ruined everything and everyone around him. I’d ruin her too. Hell, I’d wanted to ruin her.
I shook her hand free to scratch my chin, and then just let my hand fall back to my lap. I could feel her eyes on my face but pretended I couldn’t, continuing to stare out the window.
“We should go out in Yokohama. I haven’t hit a club since New York. I need booze and beats.” I felt Aviva stiffen against me, and the car was unnaturally silent. “Isn’t Firth still in Tokyo? Get him to come down and give us the grand tour of the place. Or at least of the nightlife.”
Sampson scoffed. “Dude, you just shit out things you ate when you were ten. You sure you want to go out drinking?”
“Fuck off, Sam. You know I do.”
