Chapter 134

**Hadassah POV**

I smile back at him sheepishly with my hand on my head as if to keep it from rolling off.
“Need me to take you back to your room?”
I shake my head at that mere thought inspires a creeping ache.
“Dining hall or something. I’m starving.”
Henry gives me a courteous once-over, not perverted by perplexed. “Like that?”
“There are no words I can use to explain how much I don’t care.”
He snickers and moves away to start dressing. Once he's done and groomed, he leads me out of the crew’s quarters. And it’s like a walk of shame with ignorant staff members casting me scandalous looks. But I can’t blame them because from their perspective. I know I’d be judging too.
“I remember most of last night,” I begin carefully. “I remember the drinking and eating. But not much of the conversations,” I say to check if I didn’t divulge anything incriminating or problematic.
He nods understandingly, his hair a mop of cute curls, brown and shiny. “You just said you and your brother and a friend of yours wanted to get away. You talked about the pressure you were under to perform, all the expectations weighing on you. And that you were scared of failing those you love again.”
I inhale a deep breath. *That was more interpersonal than I expected*. At least it was nothing dangerous—nothing about *him* or any of them nor about who I really am.
“And you mentioned something about someone’s anal?”
“*Ah*!” I exclaim harshly to interrupt him, wildly waving my hands to stop that sentence. “That doesn’t need to be brought up again.”
He laughs then bites down on his lower lip slightly.
“Tell me that’s the worst of it?”
He nods with a brilliant smile. “I don’t think there’s anything worse than that. But yeah, that’s it. Most of the night was just drinking games and cooking up a storm. With some of my friends stealing our food.”
I smile, my insides filling with warmth. After a rather long journey we arrive. The restaurant gleams with understated elegance, every detail curated to evoke a sense of exclusivity. Sunlight filters through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the polished marble floors and the soft, cream-colored walls. The sea stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a tranquil backdrop to the refined breakfast being served.
Each table is draped in pristine white linen, perfectly pressed, with silver cutlery and crystal glasses that sparkle under the soft morning light. The chairs, upholstered in deep navy contrast with the airy ambiance, adding a touch of regal sophistication. Fresh flowers in delicate vases rest at the center of every table, their subtle fragrance mingling with the enticing aroma of warm pastries and brewed coffee.
For those enjoying themselves as a family or as a couple, they send me disgusted looks that I meet with a carefree smile. I seat myself at a lone table at the center of the room just to make the point to the snobby population that I’m neither daunted nor fazed.
Henry goes out of way to serve me personally—even though he’s already late for his shift. Flaky croissants, golden and crisp, sit beside baskets of artisan breads and pastries, each delicately dusted with powdered sugar. Platters of exotic fruits—papaya, dragon fruit, and perfectly ripe mango—are artfully arranged, their vibrant colors popping against the polished silver serving trays. Freshly squeezed juices in a rainbow of hues—orange, grapefruit, pomegranate—stand in chilled crystal pitchers, condensation beading down their sides.
“I can’t possibly eat this all alone,” I invite subtly.
He gives the room a swift scan and he smiles again but this one is awkward. “I really have to clock in. But if you ever need a night cap. You know where to find me.”
We share a heartfelt grin as I stare after him until the archway. And that’s when I see Calum and Emilia speaking feverishly with a man who looks to be the manager or something. With a security officer looming near them. Emilia is the first to spot me and she’s quick to point me out as all their heads whip in my direction. I pinch a croissant before I slump back into my seat dejectedly.
They excuse themselves and they weave between the tables to reach me. Emilia settles in the seat opposite me and Calum steals a blue velvet armchair from a free table, fixing it adjacent to me.
I rip off the point of the buttery croissant, crackly and crisp on the inside, warm and soft on the inside. The aristocrats around us can’t help but steal looks at the spectacle unfolding, trying to act demure with the gentle chime of conversation flittering through the room.
“Hadassah,” Calum opens firmly. “What the hell?”
“Yeah, that’s my line,” I say, taking another nonchalant bite.
“With everything going on, you think it was fair for you to just disappear like that?” he whispers furiously, slanting forward. “I mean seriously, we have most of the criminal underworld gunning for us and you thought it was fair to go ghost? What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t.”
“You weren’t,” he affirms angrily. “Just on your own shit, once again not thinking about anyone else but yourself—about what you are feeling.”
My eyes lift slowly to glower back at him. This epiphany is the kind of emotion that leaves me hollowed out, not consumed in the flames of wrath but frozen in the realization of a trust shattered.
“Guys,” Emilia says to try to avoid an escalation. “Let’s just take a breath.”
And so she becomes another victim of my ire. “Just when I was starting to like you.”
“Don’t bring her in this,” Calum warms.
“No, because you’re the only one in her?” I snap back and he moves back to drop against his seat.
“Is everything okay over here?” one of the servers asks with concerned creases in her face.
With my eyes still searing through Calum, I say, “Everything is great.”
She retracts reluctantly because the tension is undeniable. She joins the attentive waitstaff gliding between tables, dressed in tailored uniforms, their movements almost silent as they top off glasses with freshly brewed coffee.
“Look, we should have told you,” he concedes.
“But you didn't,” I point out. And I give an apathetic shrug. “But I’m not your mother. You don’t need my blessing on who you want to do doggy style with.”
Emilia’s face flushes with a fresh red as she glances away momentarily.
Dissatisfied, Calum takes the truce for the sake of peace. Not matter its form.
He goes for a pastry and pops it inside his mouth, munching on it anxiously.
“Where did you go anyway?” he asks with a mouthful.
I look back at him jadedly even with a smile. “Since we have secrets now,” I say too bitterly. “Don’t ask me about my business and I won’t ask what other nasty things you two have been up to.”
I can’t even understand the breadth of my anger. I shouldn’t be this upset, but I am and it bothers me. It’s not even about Emilia, she’s solid. Obviously, I’m not jealous, Calum is basically my kid brother and he has a list of exes—many of which I liked and I could see him marrying, at least two of them. But this is different and I hate how ugly it makes me feel on the inside. There's already too much of that within me, and the spot of light that exists is being swallowed by the shadows of what I endured.
“You know what.” I slide the chair back before I rise to my full height. “I think I’m going to go shower and go to bed. As you can imagine, I didn’t get much last night.”
I move away—Calum reaches for me but Emilia stops him, releasing me. She tosses me one of the keycards and I make the voyage back to our deluxe suite. I open just one of the doors to slip inside. And the moment I do, someone grabs me roughly and with hulkish force, wrenches me from the door and hurls me so I go crashing onto the ground with a skin-skidding slide as I roll over to be on my stomach. When I manage to make it on all fours I find a pistol pointed in my face. I raise my gaze beyond its barrel to see Ellis glaring down at me with his eyes infused with something lethal.