Back in the Air France VIP lounge, Deliah jerked awake.
She sat up so fast her vision blurred. The cashmere coat slipped from her shoulders onto the floor. The spot next to her on the sofa was empty.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She grabbed her purse and sprinted to the front desk. "My son," she said, her voice shaking. "Did you see a five-year-old boy?"
The attendant shook her head apologetically.
The blood drained from Deliah's face. Separation anxiety, a leftover symptom from a trauma she couldn't even remember, gripped her throat. She couldn't breathe.
She shoved through the glass doors and ran out into the terminal. She pushed past travelers, her eyes darting frantically.
"Leo!" she screamed, the sound tearing at her vocal cords.
Panic made her stomach cramp. Just as she was about to grab a security guard, she heard a familiar, bright laugh coming from the duty-free shops.
Deliah whipped her head around. She shoved through a group of tourists and ran toward the sound.
Leo was standing there, perfectly safe, holding a piece of chocolate someone had given him.
Deliah dropped to her knees and pulled him into her chest, crushing him against her. Tears spilled hot down her cheeks.
"Don't you ever do that again," she scolded, her voice cracking. "Do you know how scared I was?"
Leo patted her back, looking guilty. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was just finding you a husband."
Deliah froze. She pulled back, confused by his words.
Before she could speak, a voice drifted down from above her. It was deep, raspy, and heavy with an oppressive weight.
"Is this how you teach manners, ma'am?"
Deliah's spine stiffened. She realized Leo had caused trouble. She stood up quickly, pushing Leo behind her legs to protect him.
She kept her eyes on the floor, staring at the ruined, coffee-stained fabric of the man's suit. "I am so sorry. I will pay for all the damages."
She lifted her head as she spoke, her gaze traveling up the sharp lines of the suit, up the strong column of his neck, until she met his face.
Their eyes locked.
The air in the terminal vanished.
Everette's pupils dilated so fast his eyes looked entirely black. His massive frame went completely rigid, as if he had been struck by lightning.
The custom phone in his hand slipped from his grip. It hit the marble floor with a sharp crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of glass.
His breathing turned ragged. He stared at the face in front of him. The exact face he had mourned for five agonizing years. The edges of his vision turned red.
Deliah took a step back. The man's eyes were terrifying. They looked like they wanted to devour her alive.
Everette lunged. His hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. His grip was bone-crushing, desperate, burning hot against her skin.
"Deliah," he choked out. The name tore from his throat like a physical wound.
Deliah winced, her brow furrowing in pain. She yanked her arm, trying to break his hold. "Sir, you have the wrong person. Let me go."
Everette felt the rapid pulse beating against his palm. She was warm. She was alive. The possessive madness inside him exploded.
Behind him, Joshua gasped, his face turning pale as he saw the woman's face.
Deliah twisted her wrist hard, finally breaking free from his grip. She reached into her purse with shaking hands, pulled out a business card, and shoved it against his rigid chest.
"Here is my card," she said, her voice cold and distant. "I will cover the full cost of cleaning or replacing your suit. Please send the bill to my assistant. Goodbye, sir."
