Finding Valentina's diary
Long after the table was clear, Myra and Cal lay on the rug, trading stories, and kissing, and trading more stories.
She was enraptured by the life he had lived before forty.
The man really had fun, and all with one woman.
She wondered what it was like to be with one person for nearly twenty-three years, date one person from college and then marry that same person with no children.
Just both of you, living in your own bubble even in the center of your busy lives and working together and cheering each other on.
Cassie was a writer, which was news to Myra because the dossier never mentioned this.
His eyes were nostalgic as he explained how they would brainstorm the subplots in her book for days, searching for plot holes, and how they would act out scenes to make sure it made sense in real life before she recreated them on paper.
He turned to her suddenly, “Why are you never offended when I talk about Cassie?”
She giggled. “That would be ridiculous. You loved her.” She smiled sadly now, “And I find her intriguing. She was confident, daring and was not scared of anyone.”
“But you are all that.” He said, looking at her.
She smiled quietly.
If only he knew.
If only he knew it took the deepest and most painful betrayal to push her into having a spine for the first time in her life. Push her to wear this costume of confidence that was all false, because she was merely mimicking his late wife.
That was the first and most important strategy in this mission.
She asked him more questions now and as he talked she saw why no one at the Ciaran complex believed those allegations about him.
He was simply a really sweet boy that grew older, into an important, established older man.
Where had she heard that before?
She blinked. Gilbert Dankworth!
~Cal is such a sweet boy~ were his words that night.
She would have completely believed he was in fact innocent but for the one tiny detail, her.
He still believed she was his student, and here they were. So she guessed that somewhere in the past four years since his wife died, he must have changed.
But all that did not matter anymore.
She had already crossed a line, and there was no turning back.
He was watching her now, and she smiled softly at him. He stood up, walked towards her and leaned down, “What are you doing?”
He put his hand on her back and under her knees and lifted her clear off the floor. “Dance with me, my darling.”
She giggled, staring in his eyes as he walked away from their cozy seating area.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek and he blushed.
“Something energetic,” she said,
“You’ve still got strength for that?”
“Plenty.”
He smiled and placed her on the floor. She dug her toes into the sand as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Waltz, salsa?” He asked.
“Choose.” She smiled up into his eyes, remembering that first day they danced together.
The song came on, and she stepped back and shrugged the robe off her shoulder.
He was watching her in surprise. “A treat?”
She giggled, and raised the short night dress over her head and stood in just her lingerie.
“You didn’t think I would be able to dance in that, did you?” She said as she walked towards him again.
“A good dancer can do anything,” he said as he rested his hand on her waist, and she closed her eyes and brought her face close, exhaling deeply.
“I am not so good.” Her voice came out, sounding lower than she had intended.
“I should be the best judge of that, don’t you think?” His nose brushed her cheek, light as a feather, and she inhaled as she felt it slide down till she felt his lips on the crook of her neck, kissing her skin.
He stepped back with a smile and twirled her around, and they began dancing.
She was giggling non-stop as he spun her around, caressed her body, lifted her high so she could vault into the air, and caught her again.
They danced round the space, leaving footprints behind, kicking up sand, their gazes locked.
When the song finally stopped, she was in his arms and panting.
That had worked up a sexual appetite in her, and her body burned hot for him. But she was not going to verbalize it if he could not feel it.
She pulled away from his arms and began to run towards the water.
“Myra.” Cal called in exasperation, and she laughed at how in that moment, he sounded like an old man exhausted from her shenanigans.
She glanced back at him to see he was taking his shirt off and running after her in just his shorts.
They both arrived in the water at the same time, just as a tide smacked them down, drenching them.
She giggled, looking down at him, and placed her hand on his chest to feel the hardness.
“You work out good.” She poked his abs, laughing.
“You think so?” he said, and she felt his hands around her waist, balancing her properly astride him.
She held her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked down at him, lying on his back, wondering what he was doing.
“Do it.” He tilted her hips towards his bulge. “That’s why you lured me here.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. “You really don’t miss much.” She laughed again, “And lured? You make me sound irresistible.”
He was staring up into her eyes now, moving her underwear to the side, and she gasped as he slowly pushed himself up inside her.
“You are irresistible, Myra.”
She closed her eyes and arched her back, moaning his name as she moved on top of him, another wave of water smacking against them.
She opened her eyes to bright, bright light and was shocked to find herself in her father’s study.
She looked around, scared that someone else might be here, but she was alone, and the door was locked.
She suddenly realized this room was hot, but not everywhere.
The heat seemed to be coming from one place. She followed it, her skin burning hotter and hotter till she feared her skin would char and fall off her bones.
She stopped before her father’s chair behind his desk, and stared at it.
This was the hottest place in the room, and the heat seemed to be coming from beneath the seat.
She placed her hands on one side of the hand rest, but it was so hot she pushed the chair off quickly.
It rolled off to the other side of the room.
She looked down and saw a key on the wooden floor. She turned it and pulled, and a square space of the floor lifted like it was a safe.
She found herself staring at Valentina’s green diary.
Myra sat up with a gasp, not knowing where she was for one second.
And as her consciousness returned, she found herself staring at the water and turned to see Cal sleeping beside her, covered in the same thick blanket that covered her.
The bonfires were still somehow burning high and hot.
She stared at the sea, realizing that she may have just discovered where her father had hidden Valentina’s diary.