helped to enslave.
After sheâd eaten, Alison milled about while she waited for Fenton to return. Sheâd lingered in the tub, but couldnât truly enjoy the indulgence provided by the luxury suite. How could she possibly change his mind? She didnât even know why he wanted to go to the empathsâ homeworld. What business could he have there?
From what sheâd observed, Fenton clearly battled his own internal demons. Perhaps that had something to do with the trip. She needed more information about him if she had any hope at all of changing his mind.
She combed her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hands shook as she worked the wet strands into another braid. With no makeup and wearing a plain dress, she looked so innocent, but appearances could be deceiving. He had no idea of her crimes, and she hoped he never learned. Fenton held all the cards, he was the one with currency, with connections. He was her life pod in the cold depths of space. She couldnât afford to alienate him.
Unable to hold her own gaze, Alison admitted the truth to herself. She didnât want to see the look on his face when he discovered what sheâd done. How sheâd tricked an entire race of people, covered up the actions of her company, all for profit. Fenton was what her aunt Lola called a âstand-up guy.â He would never look at her the same way again once he knew what sheâd done.
A tapping on the outer door alerted her a moment before it slid open. Fenton no longer wore his uniform. Instead heâd pulled on black slacks and a blue, skintight pullover shirt that complemented his intense eye color. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, gloriously defined beneath his clothing. His hair appeared freshly trimmed, and his jaw was cleanly shaven. His hands were clasped behind his back in what seemed to be universal military parade rest. He was imposing, commanding, and she felt slightly pathetic standing before him in her ill-fitting borrowed garb. If she only had one day back on Earth with access to her closet and the neighborhood rejuvi-spa, she wouldnât feel so inferior.
âIâm so sorry.â Alison rushed forward, but he held up a hand and she froze under his glacial stare.
âIt wonât happen again.â His tone was definitive.
What it was he referring to? Her tantrum? Whatever, she needed to play by his rules for a while, gain his trust back. âOf course.â
âI thought you might like to explore the ship, maybe enjoy a meal in the public dining room.â He was oddly formal, and she desperately missed the heat his every look had branded on her.
âSounds lovely. Am I dressed appropriately?â She lifted her chin, allowing his cool inspection. Hard to believe this was the same man whoâd made such passionate love to her.
His assessment was brief, and he met and held her gaze without a flicker of emotion. âWeâll visit the trade shop first, get you whatever you need to be comfortable.â
âOkay.â Really, what else could she say?
Fenton moved to the door and pressed his thumb to the pad. The doors swished open. Alison had tried that numerous times, but nothing happened. Fenton waited calmly by the door and she fought the urge to fidget as she approached.
He didnât touch her, but he didnât need to. His energy was all-encompassing. She felt protected, safe, as they moved out into the dimly lit corridor. The floor was soft under her bare feet, made from some kind of synthetic spongy material. The curved walls were smooth and glowed softly, exuding a feel of expensive quality. âWhat kind of ship is this?â
âA luxury liner. We were lucky one happened to be docked at Pental when I wanted to leave.â
Though she doubted Fenton left anything to luck, she nodded. He wasnât much of a tour guide, but then again, she didnât require one. Alison hadnât been born to privilege, but
After sheâd eaten, Alison milled about while she waited for Fenton to return. Sheâd lingered in the tub, but couldnât truly enjoy the indulgence provided by the luxury suite. How could she possibly change his mind? She didnât even know why he wanted to go to the empathsâ homeworld. What business could he have there?
From what sheâd observed, Fenton clearly battled his own internal demons. Perhaps that had something to do with the trip. She needed more information about him if she had any hope at all of changing his mind.
She combed her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hands shook as she worked the wet strands into another braid. With no makeup and wearing a plain dress, she looked so innocent, but appearances could be deceiving. He had no idea of her crimes, and she hoped he never learned. Fenton held all the cards, he was the one with currency, with connections. He was her life pod in the cold depths of space. She couldnât afford to alienate him.
Unable to hold her own gaze, Alison admitted the truth to herself. She didnât want to see the look on his face when he discovered what sheâd done. How sheâd tricked an entire race of people, covered up the actions of her company, all for profit. Fenton was what her aunt Lola called a âstand-up guy.â He would never look at her the same way again once he knew what sheâd done.
A tapping on the outer door alerted her a moment before it slid open. Fenton no longer wore his uniform. Instead heâd pulled on black slacks and a blue, skintight pullover shirt that complemented his intense eye color. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, gloriously defined beneath his clothing. His hair appeared freshly trimmed, and his jaw was cleanly shaven. His hands were clasped behind his back in what seemed to be universal military parade rest. He was imposing, commanding, and she felt slightly pathetic standing before him in her ill-fitting borrowed garb. If she only had one day back on Earth with access to her closet and the neighborhood rejuvi-spa, she wouldnât feel so inferior.
âIâm so sorry.â Alison rushed forward, but he held up a hand and she froze under his glacial stare.
âIt wonât happen again.â His tone was definitive.
What it was he referring to? Her tantrum? Whatever, she needed to play by his rules for a while, gain his trust back. âOf course.â
âI thought you might like to explore the ship, maybe enjoy a meal in the public dining room.â He was oddly formal, and she desperately missed the heat his every look had branded on her.
âSounds lovely. Am I dressed appropriately?â She lifted her chin, allowing his cool inspection. Hard to believe this was the same man whoâd made such passionate love to her.
His assessment was brief, and he met and held her gaze without a flicker of emotion. âWeâll visit the trade shop first, get you whatever you need to be comfortable.â
âOkay.â Really, what else could she say?
Fenton moved to the door and pressed his thumb to the pad. The doors swished open. Alison had tried that numerous times, but nothing happened. Fenton waited calmly by the door and she fought the urge to fidget as she approached.
He didnât touch her, but he didnât need to. His energy was all-encompassing. She felt protected, safe, as they moved out into the dimly lit corridor. The floor was soft under her bare feet, made from some kind of synthetic spongy material. The curved walls were smooth and glowed softly, exuding a feel of expensive quality. âWhat kind of ship is this?â
âA luxury liner. We were lucky one happened to be docked at Pental when I wanted to leave.â
Though she doubted Fenton left anything to luck, she nodded. He wasnât much of a tour guide, but then again, she didnât require one. Alison hadnât been born to privilege, but
Similar Books
