The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,68

that’s how it’s going to be. Once this is done, this is done. No chance of ever catching up for old times’ sake when I can repay him this wad of euros. But this is what I wanted. Wasn’t it?

I’m suddenly not sure.

And this is why I can’t be anywhere near him. He confuses me. He also infuriates me like no other man has before.

Needing to get off this yacht, I shove past him and test the ramp to ensure it’s safe for me to walk on. It’s solid enough, so I race down it, thankful when my feet hit land.

Looking around, I see what appears to be local markets selling souvenirs and clothes, but what interests me more is the delicious smell wafting through the air. Some people are browsing, but my attention is drawn to the woman to my left, who is eating what looks like a trifle.

The cream mixed with the red swirls of something has my stomach rumbling. I know I should probably eat something a little more substantial, but after everything I’ve been through, from now on, I’m going to eat dessert first.

I see a stall selling these delicious-looking treats and make a beeline for it. There is no one in line, so I point at the picture on the wall with a smile. The older lady nods with a toothless grin and goes to work, making my trifle. Or what I’m guessing is a trifle.

She passes me the plastic glass piled high with the sweet-smelling goodness where I pay her, ensuring to tip her ten euro. She nods in gratitude, saying something in Latvian I’m presuming. I can’t wait and hungrily dig the spoon into the cream and bring it to my nose.

It’s cream and curd cheese. The brown layers don’t look like a spongy chocolate cake. Poking out my tongue, I sample my spoon, humming in utter delight when the flavors of cream, cranberry, and a sweet rye bread give my taste buds an orgasm.

Digging my spoon in for a bigger helping, I pile the dessert high and take my first big bite. It’s like heaven in my mouth, and I can’t silence my moan.

For the next few minutes, I’m lost in culinary bliss and don’t realize I have company until I look up and see Alek watching me. I pause midbite, suddenly embarrassed. We were supposed to blend in, and here I am, making love to my trifle.

Swallowing down my mouthful, I watch as Alek saunters over, eyes never wavering from me. Heat creeps up my neck, and I look down, ensuring my skin isn’t blotchy, giving away my sudden awakened state.

He stops in front of me and cocks his head to the side. He looks pissed off, but he also looks…aroused. I stop breathing when he reaches out with his thumb and wipes it along the corner of my mouth, showing me it’s coated in white cream.

Utterly mortified, I quickly wipe at my mouth with the side of my finger, embarrassed I ignored social etiquette. But that’s all forgotten when Alek places his thumb into his mouth and sucks slowly. It slips free, leaving a sheen on his bottom lip that I have the sudden urge to lick clean.

“ням,” he says, which leaves me wondering what he said.

When those steel-blue eyes sharpen and turn predatory, I quickly remember I’m supposed to be weaning myself off him. Yes, the attraction will always be there. That’s not the problem between us. The problem is the communication part, the part where I’ll never be his counterpart.

Relationships need to work on an equal playing field. Otherwise, Alek will always see me as his submissive, seeing as he likes control so much. And I don’t want that.

Alek senses the shift in the air and clears his throat. The moment is over, which is good. So why am I disappointed?

“Meet me back here in an hour,” he instructs, catching me completely off guard.

“You’re not going to follow me around, making sure I don’t run with scissors?”

He purses his lips, confused by my choice of words. “Why would you do that?”

A burst of laughter threatens to spill from me because sometimes, he can be so stuffy. But it’s one of the things I like, liked about him. He speaks so eloquently. Each word as if crafted by the devil himself.

“Don’t worry,” I reply, waving him off. “Okay, an hour. I can do that.”

“Buy yourself some clothes, supplies, but no phone,” he orders softly, peering from left to right.