"Enlighten me."
"In spite of his career, in spite of his success and all the planning and forecasting that goes into it, Tristan very much lives in the here and now. He seizes the day, as they say."
"I can see that, yes."
"He doesn't spend time dwelling on things that have passed and he doesn't spend energy on things yet to come. If you choose to remain with him, I suggest you aim to do likewise."
"No analysis. No expectations," I mumbled. It was not the kind of advice I found easy to swallow. Not that Kwan's advice was any different than what I had already been told, in no uncertain words and more than once.
"Those who know and enjoy Tristan the most, and we are few, do so because we allow ourselves to become part of his present."
***
I went back to the master stateroom to freshen up for dinner and once again wrap my head around the situation I found myself in. Tristan was still working. I presumed he had an office on board somewhere, but that hadn't been part of my grand tour. I was glad to have a little time to think. Kwan was probably as close to Tristan as anyone. I knew I'd be stupid to ignore his advice.
I had a great guy to spend time with. He was smart, affectionate, generous, funny, and most of the time he was easy going. Sexually speaking, he might as well have invented it as far as my life was concerned. No one had ever attracted me as suddenly and thoroughly as the man I saw for the first time on the Mahkeenac Little Theater stage. From the moment I saw him I wanted him. When I had him, it was the most erotic and satisfying thing I'd ever known. To say he exceeded my expectations would be ridiculous. No woman could have expected the kind of fucking this man delivered.
Suddenly, it hit me. I stumbled onto at least a clue as to what Tristan meant by 'no expectations'. Was it possible that he was such an incredible lover precisely because I had no expectations? Were the gifts he gave me all the more precious because I could not have anticipated them? More to the point, was it possible to carry that concept into the emotional part of the relationship? Could I, could anyone, love without expectations?
I studied my face in the mirror as I brushed my hair. There wasn't any point in trying to hide it from myself. There was no one around to hear me ask my brown-eyed reflection: Can you do it? Can you love one day at a time? Can you love without answers?
Nine
"Raina? Raina?" The knock was insistent and the voice…not good. I quickly pulled the light cotton sweater over my head and answered the door.
"What is it Kwan?"
"Mr. Tristan needs you in his office right now."
I followed Kwan's quick steps up to the next deck and past the huge salon. I'd seen the spiral staircase in the corner of the fabulous room, but hadn't had enough free time to explore every nook and cranny of King's Risk. I'd missed Tristan's nest tucked above it all. Kwan told me to go up the stairs. Something made me take them two at a time.
I knocked once and opened the door without being asked in. Tristan sat at a glossy wood desk surrounded by lots of books and plenty of high tech gadgets including at least three computers. He leapt to his feet and came around the desk when I entered the room.
"Sweetheart…" I should have been thrilled at the endearment. Instead, I was terrified by the look in his eyes and the way he pulled me protectively into his arms.
I pushed away from him enough to see his face and asked, "What happened, Tristan? Is it my parents?" That was the only thing it could be…the only thing that would put that look of panic on his face and make my heart pound like cannon fire in my chest.
"I'm so sorry. So sorry. Artie called. They got to Marjorie."
"Mom??? Tell me!"
"Early this morning. Your father went back to work yesterday. He surprised everyone, including the bodyguards. They didn't have time to do any real reconnaissance on the job site or call in back up. So one of them stayed at the house with your mother and the other one went with your father."
All I could do was nod and stare.
"Don had a lot of pent up energy and a bee in his bonnet when he got to the job site. He made a lot of noise about how he wasn't going to cave into punks. Said he was sick to death of everyone from the Teamsters to the Teacher's union wanting their piece of every tenpenny nail. He made a lot of noise about not giving up until someone paid attention."
"My mother, Tristan, tell me about my mother!"
"This morning, your neighbor, Mrs. Caper . . ."
"Caperelli."
"Mrs. Caperelli came over and found George bound and gagged in the room on the ground floor and your mother gone."
"What the hell do you mean GONE? Gone where?"
"The assumption is that she's been kidnapped."
"Oh my God. Mom." Tears rolled down my cheeks with the image of my wonderful mother at the hands of some bastards like the ones who beat up Dad.
"Okay, now listen to me." Tristan took my shoulders in his strong hands and grabbed onto my eyes with his. "They didn't hurt George. I don't think they're planning to hurt your mother. They want something from your father and your mother's the best way to get to him. Think about it."
I gulped back a sob. He was right. It was awful, but panic was going to get us nowhere. "What now?"
"Obviously, I want to get back to New York as soon as possible. I don't suppose there's any way you'd let me leave you here, out of harm's way? With Kwan?"
I shot him a look that was all the answer that absurd question deserved.
"Right, then. Let's go."
***
By the time Tristan reached around me to fasten my seatbelt in the plane, he had been on the phone with the mayor of New York, the Chief of Police and the director of the FBI. I would have been impressed with the line-up of people who would take his calls, if I hadn't been literally sick with worry.
In between his calls, Tristan had also managed to wipe my cold sweaty brow after I blew the contents of my stomach by the side of the road and again in the elegant bathroom of his airplane. I looked in the mirror after I finished retching and my skin had taken on an unnatural shade of gray. When I came out, Tristan took me back to the master stateroom. He stripped my clammy clothes off and wrapped me in my elegant red velvet robe. Then he sat me on the bed and put a pair of his white cotton athletic socks on my trembling feet. Grabbing the furry throw from the bed, he marched me out to one of the recliners and pushed it all the way back. Then he covered me up and strapped me in.
"I want you to lay here and breathe deeply. When you start to feel warm, let me know. You've got a case of borderline shock. Don't let it get any worse." He held my cold hand in his warm one. "I'm going to take care of this and I'm going to take care of you. But right now, Marjorie needs your strength."