"Well, it's your sister's wedding, right?"
"Yes, which is why I am not saying anything to her. Willow didn't grow up with her really, so she doesn't know what she's like and wants a relationship with her. Which I could warn her about, but I don't want it to be like I'm keeping Willow from her mother. I would hate that."
"Your sister sounds deliberately clueless."
She turned slightly to peer back at me. "It probably does to you. Do you have any family?"
I nodded. "I've got Reginald."
"Did he adopt you or something?"
I didn’t usually talk about my family. I’d never told anyone about my past. No one ever got close enough. But it felt good to talk to her.
"No, my dad was killed in action. And mum, she couldn't take it, you know? She was really depressed for two years, and then she passed away from cancer. My uncle took me in when I was eight, but then he also died in action when I was eleven. Reginald was his best mate. He and his wife, Jasmine, gave me a home. So basically, Reginald is the closest thing to a parent I have."
In the silence of the bath, I waited for her to speak.
25
Daphne
I could tell he was unaccustomed to sharing. I didn’t want him to stop. “I think you were very lucky to have a Reginald.”
He cleared his throat as he continued to massage. "Anyway, Reggie looked out for me. And his wife, she was the best."
"She's gone now, right? Reggie mentioned her to me."
"Yeah. A few years back. MS."
I winced. "That hardly seems fair. He's a lovely man. Seems like he deserves big love."
I felt rather than heard Drake’s chuckle. "He's helping me keep you here, and yet you think he's lovely?"
"Well, because he clearly doesn't want to," I said. “He’s trying to save your soul or something.”
Quietly, he added. "Don't get it wrong. I didn’t want to bring you here either."
"Yeah, your vibe is more of a you'll do whatever it takes thing, and that's not him. He's got markers. Lines he won't cross."
"I see you've already got a good read on him."
"Well, yeah. He's easy to read. Unlike you."
He chuffed softly behind me. “I’m easier to read than you think.”
He finally finished detangling a section and tried to move on to the next, but I stopped him.
“Oh wait. You’ll need to twist it first.”
He hesitated. “Like a twist tie?”
I giggled. “Sort of. Take the section, split it in two. Then you have to hold it taut and twine the pieces together like a rope.”
His level of concentration was so endearing I had to smile as he twisted. When he got to the end, he paused. “How do I keep it from unwinding?”
“Oh, you coil the ends around you index finger, the curls will clump together.”
When the twist was done a thick twist hung down my back. “Well, that is handy.”
His self-satisfaction made me smile. “If I’m trying to use twists for a style I make them smaller, but for now that’s great. Good job.”
As he worked, he continued our conversation. "I'm not hard to read. Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to do things right. You know, make my dad and mum proud. Make Uncle Charlie proud, and Reginald, too. There was black and white when it came to doing the right thing. But somewhere along the line, things got murky."
"Isn't that what being a spy is all about? Working for the greater good and all that?"
He chuckled low. "You'd be surprised. There are a lot of wankers who are in it for the glory."
"Is there glory?"
"For those in the know, yeah. While you are alive, the glory is the sweetest nectar."
Thirty minutes later, I had been conditioned, detangled, rinsed, and my head was in a towel. Drake held up a towel for me to climb out of the tub and resolutely turned his gaze away from me. When I was all wrapped up, he nodded. "When you're finished, there's a blow dryer in the bottom there. And it's got one of those… I don't know what they're called. You know, they look like a little octopus with hands, with tentacles, spikes or whatever sticking out."
I laughed. "A diffuser."
"Yeah, one of those. I’ll dry your hair.”
I bit my lip. He’d just taken better care of me than my own mother. And the realization was making me emotional. He’d laid a lot on me and I needed a moment to process. “Actually, can you let me do it? I think I need a little time on my own if that’s okay.”
His brow creased. He looked like he wanted to finish, but he let me have this one. “Sure. Head on downstairs when you’re done. Or call if you need more help.”
“Thank you.”
He walked out and quietly left me behind after he picked up all the bits and bobs from our hair session, and I wasn't even thinking about an escape right then. All I could think was that the man who just spent the last hour and a half or so washing and detangling my hair and cleaning me up was not the same man who kidnapped me. There were two sides to him. So which part of him was real?
26
Drake
I didn’t lock the bedroom door. Matter of fact, I left it wide open. And Daphne, walked right through it.
I expected nothing less. After all, she was back to herself, not that scary shell of a woman who couldn't move when I took her out of the boot. My relief that she seemed to have recovered from our misadventure last night, was palpable.
She looked more like herself now. Freshly showered, curls dried, face devoid of makeup. She was stunning though. She didn't need it.
"I'm shocked you didn't try the front door."
She grinned at me and then at Reginald. "Who's to say I didn't?"
Reginald clapped and hooted. “Ah, I’ve gotta tell you, boy, I like this one. She gives you a run for your money.”
I frowned at him. "Whose side are you on?"
"Hers."
"Thank you for letting me eat down here." She cleared her throat. “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t try the door. I’m not running anymore. I know I need to be here.”
The way she said it let me know she was honest about her thank you.
"You're going to eat down here from now on."
Daphne
My skin flushed under the intensity of Drake’s gaze. My brain oh so helpfully offered up the image of him in the tub behind me.
I lifted my brows. "So, what's for dinner tonight?"
"Well, shockingly,” Reginald said, “We have some cornbread.”
Drake wrinkled his nose. “What is your obsession with cornbread?”
"What? You don't like it?" I gasped. "It's delicious."
Drake shook his head. "It's sweet bread. Who wants sweet bread?"
Reginald just rolled his eyes. "This boy can eat field rations every day for months on end. But should I try and feed him anything from America, and the way he'll squinch his face is so funny. Look at him."