Before he left for work, he asked her again if she’d sign the documents.

“I need to know you’re taken care of. Please.”

“Okay.” She took his face in her hands. “If it’s what you want.”

She signed her name in beautiful cursive letters, and Desmond kissed her before he left.

She asked him again to come to Christmas at her mother’s house that year. This time, he accepted, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. He still didn’t feel comfortable around her family. But things had changed for him. He was a success now, with one IPO behind him and another looming.

Her sister’s husband treated him differently, though he suspected he knew the series of events that had led to that: Peyton had prevailed upon her sister, who had then spoken with her husband. Derrick quizzed him about SciNet and his other investments with the zeal of a kid trying to glean clues about his gifts under the tree.

Their family was tight, Desmond could see that, and Peyton had told him the reason: the death of their father had brought them closer. Her brother’s passing seven years before had also strengthened their bond. Peyton said it had made them more thankful for each other and every year they had together. The tragedies were a reminder to them of what was truly important.

Her entire family couldn’t have been nicer to him. He still felt out of place, like an actor in a role that was wrong for him. “Fraud” was the word that kept running through his mind. He told himself that there was simply a wall inside of him, that the emotions were there, behind it, waiting to come through. When it came down, everything would be fine.

He would soon learn the truth.

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Desmond felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He opened his eyes. Avery loomed over him, her pale skin and slender face like a ghost in the green glow of the plane’s safety lights.

Peyton lay in a sleeping bag beside him, fast asleep. Avery hadn’t woken her and apparently didn’t want to. Her voice was barely over a whisper.

“You okay?”

He felt feverish and achy, he assumed from the memory, but he didn’t want to give her any indication that he had recalled anything. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Avery studied him. “You were feverish earlier. Anyway, we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“The life-or-death kind.”

Avery informed him that they were about to leave Africa, cross over the Mediterranean, then into European airspace on their way to Scotland.

“And?”

“And,” Avery said, stretching the word out, “if the Europeans have sealed their borders like the US, like they did in Kenya, they might shoot us down.”

That was a problem.

“Can we go around?”

“Not enough fuel.”

“Refueling—”