His declaration he hadn’t been with anyone in the way he was with me “in a long, long time” came as a surprise though. Everyone had their secrets, and Ivan Everley was no exception apparently. We still had a long way to go before we talked about our former relationships with each other. At least I couldn’t tell him just yet. I wanted to, but I knew if I told him now, I’d freak myself out and want to go into hiding. My great shame—my part in the destruction of a marriage and a family—and how everything I did now was in atonement for my past sins still had ahold of me emotionally.

I didn’t want Ivan to see me as that person.

Or for the knowledge of my sordid story to sour this amazing connection the two of us had found together in the magical land of Donadea, in a castle filled with priceless treasures, hidden away in an enchanted mist where nothing from the outside could break through the magic protecting it. That’s truly how I saw myself at Donadea now, and in being with Ivan, too. I couldn’t bear for the fairytale to lose its magical hold over us. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to yet face the reality it would all have to come out eventually.

And wasn’t that just some straight-up, good old-fashioned denial working on me?

“Ivan?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Will there be pictures of us on the internet from that drone?”

“I don’t think so, but the truthful answer is possibly, yes. I only want to be honest with you so I can’t dismiss the possibility entirely. I’ve never involved the police in this matter until today though. It’s in their hands now. Drones have unique registries and can be traced, so if there is a way, the police will be able to find out who or where it came from.”

“I—I just need to know whatever you can tell me, please. I am a cop’s daughter, after all. I imagine you have some idea just from the way you were all over that thing in an instant, and how you shot it down with a freaking arrow. I watched you from the window and it was quite the show. I knew you’d hit it, too. Before you let your arrow fly, I knew you would take it down.”

He sighed heavily and looked over at me, tracing a finger around one side of my face, looking weary to be asked the question, but not unwilling. After a long moment of silent communication between us, he began to talk. And what a story he had to tell...

“Park Jin-ho. A North Korean archer, from a politico family with ties to the Supreme Leader of that country has been my nemesis since we met at the World Archery Championships in Madrid when I was nineteen.”

“He competed against you in the Olympics?”

“Oh yes. All three of them. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the memo that I’d retired from the sport professionally and was no longer a threat to his fragile ego or mental state or whatever the fuck nonsense is rattling around inside his demented motherfucking head.”