He left me just lying there in his bed. I started feeling better. Maybe it’s passed. I should head back to the dinner.
When I tried to stand, the nausea came back in full force. I collapsed onto the bed.
It was hard to tell just how long I’d been lying there. Graham had not returned, and I began to worry.
Finally, I heard footsteps coming down the corridor. I was relieved but also confused because there was no urgency to the footsteps. I started to doubt whether it was Graham or perhaps someone else. I was about to call out when I heard a door open. I recognized the sound as that of the double doors in front of Graham’s quarters.
“Damn.”
It was part whisper, part exclamation. And it was not Graham’s voice or anyone else from Sasha’s harem—or from mine, for that matter.
I pulled myself out of bed and crawled to the door. I opened it a crack and peeked out. I saw one of our “guests,” his back to me, standing on the threshold, camera in hand.
Oh, shit! This is not good. I have to stop him.
I jumped to my feet.
Immediately, the room spun around me. My view became that of swirling colors. Then my head hit the floor, and everything went black.
14
Noah
It was my doing: putting Bonita in touch with Sasha, agreeing she should run off to Iceland. Hell, I even drove her to the boat! Anything that happened to her would be entirely my fault, and nobody could convince me otherwise. So, when Bonita excused herself from the dinner table, complaining of an upset stomach and I was left there chatting with people we suspected were spies, it took all my willpower to remain seated and pretend everything was all right. Meanwhile, I kept wondering if Bonita was okay.
Have we lost all sense of proportion? How deep are we going to dive into this world of corporate espionage? Am I going to be able to protect her from spies?
That was all I could think about during dessert.
Dinner was lovely, but with Bonita out of my sight and not feeling well, I was ready for it to be over and for the guests to leave. We’d done our part, kept them entertained, and I was confident the rest of the team had done theirs.
It’s getting late. Take your coats and your microphones and leave already!
Either our guests were telepathic, or my glaring at them over dessert had its desired effect. Either way, they didn’t linger.
“Thank you very much for a lovely evening,” they said.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was lovely. Now, you have to go.
“We should do this again sometime soon.”
Platitudes and promises were politely exchanged, then, finally, they left.
As soon as the door closed behind them, I sprinted off in search of Bonita. I passed Ken. He mentioned something about how the operation had been a success. I didn’t stop to ask for details. I ran to the terrace; I ran downstairs.
I came to a sliding stop in the corridor leading to the Polar Trinity when I saw something I hadn’t seen yet in the ten days we’d been staying there: one of the seven doors was open. From inside, I heard Graham speak, and then Bonita.
I knocked and stepped in at the same time.
Bonita was lying on a bed. Graham was sitting beside her. He turned to me. “Hi, Noah.”
I didn’t respond but rushed to the bed and knelt beside it. I took Bonita’s hand. “Bonita, are you okay?”
Her eyes were red, presumably from tears. She looked frail and distraught.
“I have an upset stomach,” she said. “It’s nothing. It will pass.”
I turned to Graham. “We need to get her to a hospital.”
Bonita gave my hand a pat. “I’m okay, Noah. I just need to rest.”
Then she addressed Graham. “Thank you for looking after me, Graham.”
“Of course.”
“Can I have a moment alone with Noah?”
Graham stood and headed out of the room. He stopped at the threshold and said, “Stay as long as you need to. I’ll sleep with Sasha tonight.”
Bonita propped herself up on her elbow. “Thank you, but I’m feeling better already. You don’t need to do that.”
Graham bit down on his lower lip and raised his brow. “Actually, yeah. I need to do that.”
He left, and Bonita sat up.
I tried to ease her back down. “Not so fast. You should lie down. There’s no need to get up.”
I let go of her when I saw the seriousness in her eyes. “Yes. I need to get up. I have to warn Sasha.”
In all the years I’d known Bonita, I had never seen her cry. Judging by the looks of the other members of our crew, I suspected they’d never seen her cry, either. But when Bonita told Sasha what she’d seen, with everyone present, she broke down and let the tears come out.