Not Protected, page 16
"You sound like the part of the instructions manual that says to call maintenance if you can't put the machine together," I snorted, earning a shove from Zen. "Good work with the signal," Darkwood praised with a slightly impressed grin as he shook Zen's hand. "Maria told me that the device they used was one of the best devices to use if they wanted to bounce a signal, so it was supposed to be nigh impossible to pin it down."
"Do you want to hear something fascinating? It's actually high on the black-market list, so I went through a few agencies and found out that the last purchase of such high-tech gear was made through a bank account transfer that belonged to a Darkwood. A Darkwood that, according to Google, was supposed to be dead."
When Darkwood paled, Zen's grin grew even bigger. "I'm not holding grudges, Alec. If Maria decided to let you walk free, then there's a reason. I trust the idiot."
"Hey!" I snapped. Zen dodged a blow from me, laughing as he tugged on the curls of my hair before he resumed his conversation with Darkwood, both of them now much more relaxed and eagerly chatting about the latest tech in the field.
"I was supposed to introduce you next," I said to Elijah. I glanced at my cousin, wondering if I should ask if Elijah had contacted Flynn about our newest addition to the family. At that moment, Elijah looked over my head and a big smile spread over his face, his next words drawing everyone's attention. "Your boyfriend's coming this way."
Minnie perked up instantly, her bored expression from listening to the boys vanishing. "Maria has a boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend," I grumbled right as Michael appeared by my side, looking visibly tense. Out of habit, I placed my fingers on his arm like I normally did whenever he was upset. Michael jumped, shocked at the contact, and I hastily pulled my fingers away.
"Sorry," I said hurriedly. "What's wrong?"
"Michael Cross!" Elijah crowed, cutting off Michael to yank him into a hug. "I've missed you, future cousin-in-law!" "I'm not...cousin...law," Michael choked out, prompting Elijah to let go of him.
"Wait," Minnie piped up, throwing me a surprised glance. "Michael Cross? As in
At this, Michael glared at me, and the tense atmosphere between us melted as I flashed him an impish smile. "Is that how you describe me to your friends?" he asked.
"Oh, you should hear all the names she has," Zen snickered. "There's--"
"--no need for us to talk about that. You know what we need to do? We need to take a seat. Clearly, we're going to miss the vows," I said, ushering Minnie along, leaving no room for argument despite the fact that we had another good thirty minutes. Darkwood and Zen followed suit, laughing at my interference as we took our seats upon the white chairs.
Michael took his seat by mine, and suddenly I was extremely conscious of the way my arm brushed against his. Often times, I wished we had never said anything to each other. Then the two of us could sit side by side, not minding the way our arms touched. Now, every single bit of contact sent an electrical shock through me, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
The chamber orchestra seated underneath an abundance of golden lights in the corner began their song as the cello struck the beginning notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D. As the violins and piano joined in, the bride entered the clearing, looking like a modern day Cinderella as she strode gracefully down the red carpet, following the little flower girl who was tossing pink and white rose petals everywhere.
Olivia Whitepine reached the altar and her groom met her arrival with tears in his eyes as he took her hands into his. The priest began to recite the words sealing two fates into one. Michael and I stood up, joining the steady flow of guests that had decided to stop cheering to go stand in the front. Already, workers were surging out to fold up the chairs and drag out tables, spreading open ivory sheets to cover the surfaces.
It didn't take too long before an arrangement of tables had replaced the endless rows of chairs. Each table had a beautiful bouquet of white and gold roses placed in glass vases centered in the middle. SMarialing china plates had been positioned before every chair, with the complete amount of utensils needed for a full seven-course meal.
Zen and Minnie left to go join their parents, waving us goodbye before they disappeared into the crowd. Darkwood, Michael, and I ventured into the thick mass soon after that, weaving our way through couples and clans and celebrities clamoring for their seats.
"How cute," Darkwood said. "I can see they put a lot of thought into mine."
Michael pulled out a chair and waited for me to sit down while Darkwood plucked the note off the glass and crumpled it up. He stood by his own chair, shooting Michael an unhappy glance. "I don't get my chair pulled out?" he asked. The parental authorities joined us at our table, as well as Jasper and Elijah. A sudden pang struck my heart as I saw the empty seat reserved for Archer, who would never show up. "Maria, you look absolutely stunning," Catarina Cross complimented me, snapping me out of my thoughts as she took her seat across from her son. Her doe-eyed gaze flickered between Michael and me, a beam on her coral lips. Sadly, my mother had carried through her ideas of coordinating outfits between Michael and me, refusing my father's attempt to let me wear a blazer. Tragic, isn't it?
I ended up in a gorgeous gown with a subtle gradient of pale to dark gold. The dress flowed out from the hips in layers of sheer cloth, soft and light as water whenever my fingers would run over the material. The layers were cut unevenly, as though the tailor had imitated flower petals.
"I just love how you guys match," Darkwood added, giving me a wicked grin. "You guys are just so cute. Things didn't progress down a better path after Darkwood's comment. It seemed as though no one was able to tell that Michael and I weren't fine. Compliments and slight teases were pushed onto us, all of them gushing about what a fine pair the two of us made.
There wasn't a course that went by without Darkwood and Jasper's little comments. By the time the fifth course was served, I was tempted to jab something with my fork. Specifically Darkwood. You can imagine my relief when the bride and groom entered the dance floor, the chamber orchestra striking up "their song." Soon enough, several people began to join them, twirling their partners along to the rhythm of the music. Even my parents joined in, and I watched as everyone formed a path for the royal couple to enter.
"Has the thought crossed your mind yet that you risked your life coming back here just to watch these two kiss and dance?" Darkwood scoffed as the couple whirled on by, the bride giggling as the groom picked her up.
"Aren't you little miss sunshine?" Though, I admit, Darkwood had a strong point.
The song changed once more into a violin and cello duet. I recognized the tune and displeasure sank in as I remembered the horrible, terrible memories that this song resurfaced. "I hate this song," I mumbled, my fingers itching to follow the violin rhythm.
"Pity," Michael spoke up. "And here I was going to ask you to dance with me."
I stared at him, wondering what the hell was he thinking. Michael gave me a small smile and held his hand out. "One dance," he requested. "Just one."
Feeling hesitant, I bit my lips. Every bone in my body told me to say yes--what was the harm in one dance? After a few minutes of debating, I accepted, placing my fingers in his palm and the two of us got up.
Hand in hand, Michael led me onto the dance floor. I caught Minnie's eye on my way there and she gave me a subtle wink as Michael wrapped his around my waist. One of my hands rested on his shoulder while the other remained in his grip.
I'm not going to lie--I missed the warmth of his hand.
"You know," I mused out loud, "I've never really liked weddings."
"You were saying?"
We continued on dancing, changing our pace when the tempo of the song morphed into another tune. This one was much slower, so I shifted both my arms to wrap around his neck while he linked his hands around my waist. Our bodies drew closer as we swayed to the basses and cellos, plucking their strings.
"I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful tonight," Michael murmured into my ear after a minute or two. My eyes fluttered close as I began to set up the walls, and I pulled away from Michael. "Cross, no," I said sternly. "We're not supposed to do that kind of stuff anymore. Not when the intentions aren't platonic."
"I can't help it!" he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "You can't just expect me to give up on you so easily, Maria. You've got no idea how long I've liked you and--"
"No, you don't understand," he groaned. Then, Michael glanced around, and I realized at the same time he did that we were attracting a bit of attention.
"I'm going to check on security for a minute," Michael sighed. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it." My bodyguard walked off with a brisk pace, and a flame of irritation sMariaed inside me. So I pulled up the hem of my dress and stormed after Michael. I caught up with him by the time the crowds of people were nonexistent. It was just the two of us standing in a private corner behind a section of trees.
"I said I'd take a minute," Michael said, his back turned to me. "If you want me to forget, then go away. Don't tell me we can't have this and then make me stay," he snapped, turning around to reveal an anger burning in his gaze. When I took a step back out of the intimidation I felt at his anger, his eyes softened and he turned his whole body to face me. Slowly, he stepped closer and closer to me until the two of us were nearly chest to chest.
"What do you want, Maria?" he asked. I didn't move away--I couldn't find the strength to move. "I don't know," I admitted, running my fingers through my updo so that several strands fell to frame my face. "You like me. I like you. Why can't we just..." His voice trailed off, a note of hope clinging to his words. "Because I can't. You can't like me, Michael. It won't work out," I sputtered, feeling my emotions beginning to bubble and boil at the surface.
"You can't tell me who I can and can't like, Maria," Michael said. I looked up, my mouth opening to try and explain, but Michael placed a finger over my lips, hushing me with ease. "Let me finish." His finger move to brush a strand of hair behind my ear before drawing closer, his hands trailing down to my lower back. "You think I haven't tried stopping this? I have. I tried telling myself that you're Stacy Beversh, the girl I hated. You're annoying and you're so unbelievably difficult to deal with because you can't ever listen to a damn thing I say, but even then, I wouldn't mind sharing my day with you. I want to be there for you, not just as a bodyguard. I want to be with you, by your side whenever you need me to be without any limits."
"Michael," I began, fearing what my answer would be because the longer he talked, the weaker my conviction became.
"I like you a lot more than I should, and it's damn near impossible to get me to stop. I don't want to stop." My heart thundered in my chest as I closed my eyes, digesting each and every word in my mind. "I can't."
This time, it was me who walked away, struggling to force it all down, to lock it all up. All I could think of as I left wasn't Michael's crushed expression as I rejected him once more. I thought of Archer, who cupped my tiny face in his hands, apologizing for failing the family. I remembered how he left the next day, not even saying goodbye. I remembered promising myself, promising my brothers, that I would make sure to keep everyone safe. To protect them all.
And I intended to keep my promise. No matter what I had to give up.
We could be in another universe, and Gwen Stacy would still be queen
"Gwen Stacy."
"Mary Jane," Darkwood snapped instantly. "Why would you like Gwen Stacy?" "Obviously because Gwen Stacy is fabulous and she was Peter Mariaer's first love," I scoffed, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. Which, you know, it was. Of course there were countless more reasons I could list but Darkwood was much too narrow-minded to comprehend them all. It would be a waste of air.
"Mary Jane is spunkier than Gwen," Darkwood argued. "Plus, she's a red-head."
"That's it," puffed Darkwood, who stood up abruptly and pointed an accusatory finger at me. "I refuse to be housed under the same roof as someone who likes Gwen Stacy more than Mary Jane. Leave!"
"I live here! You leave!" "Will you two just shut up?" a voice complained from the doorway. Darkwood and I turned to the entrance of the music wing and saw Michael standing there, an extremely annoyed expression on his features. "There are people trying to sleep."
"It is nine-thirty, Grandpa," I pointed out while Darkwood got off the piano bench to come stand over by Michael, wrapping his arm around my bodyguard's shoulders.
"Michael, my blood brother, tell me you think Mary Jane is better than Gwen Stacy," said Darkwood. Darkwood took a dramatic step away from Michael, gasping loudly. "Brethren before wenches, Cross!" he grumbled, throwing his arms into the air. "I can't deal with you people. Alec is out!" "Admit it, Darkwood! Gwen Stacy" I shouted after him as he stormed out of the wing. I had on a smug grin, a victorious sensation pumping through my body and I spun around on the piano bench. "Maria Banks is always right," I sang. My fingers landed on the ivory keys and began playing a happy jingle. "Maria Banks is always right, Maria Banks is number one because she's just so amazing." Michael had come over to lean against the piano, watching me play random notes as I sang as badly as I could. He had a smile on his face, laughing at my failed attempt at improvisation.
I stopped playing, letting my hands rest on a different set of chords to try another song when Michael asked, "Did you stick with your lessons when you left Egypt?"
My eyes snapped over to Michael, hardening my gaze. "How is that you know about all about my childhood when I've barely told you anything?"
"Oh." How embarrassing. "That still doesn't explain all the other times," I pointed out, saving myself a public embarrassment.
Michael ignored my comment. "Goodnight, Banks," he said, turning away. All of a sudden, as he took a step, my mouth just blurted out, "Stay." Michael paused, and then turned around, his eyes narrowed while he raised an eyebrow in questioning. I did anything to avert my gaze from his. I noticed his hair was darker and damper, indicating that he took a shower, but the strands still stuck upwards as though he had continuously run his fingers through his hair. He had changed out of his suit and into a pair of slim fitting jeans that hung low on his hips while his dark grey t-shirt clung to his lean torso.
Fate seemed to have a really funny idea in mind--or maybe this was all stupid Cupid's doing--whatever it was, it convinced Michael to stroll back over to where I sat and plop himself besides me. Neither of us spoke. I was still trying to understand why the hell I had asked him to stay. I began fidgeting, needing a distraction, so I settled my fingers back on the piano to play a rather melancholy piece that I taught myself a few years back. It was a simple melody--beautiful, I thought, but it always left me with a somber aftertaste.
"Why are you playing such a depressing song?" he asked.
I didn't actually expect him to place his fingers over the keys and play a song, but he did. With a flick of his wrist and the run of his fingers, a major scale filled the room, a tune so bright and colorful with grand arpeggios and sixteenth notes falling perfectly in time with a strong bass harmony.
"You can even play the piano," I muttered, shooting him an envious look. Michael made everything seem effortless. Even now, as his fingers glided across the keys, his slim fingers pressing down lightly on the ivory surface, he did so with an expression that screamed I'm-not-trying. "Is there anything you can't do?"
"Did you need to ask me something?" he asked, cutting off the pretty tune and turning to me, a guarded look watching me with dark golden eyes. "I'm kind of sleepy.
"I just wanted to talk. As friends, you know. Like we used to," I said, hoping to sound cheerful, but Michael only continued his glower." "Weren't
"I left us on a bad note, but we're only talking right now. It's not like earlier at the wedding."
"You might be able to brush off your feelings, Banks, but I can't. So, again, goodnight." He got up to leave, but he couldn't move another inch for he froze for a solid minute. Then, he collapsed back down on the bench, but this time, his back was turned to me.
I didn't press the issue of talking for a long time. We sat in silence, stuck in our own thoughts. After what seemed like ages, my left hand found its way back to the keys and began playing a set of notes--A, F, C, then G. I repeated them over and over again, adding a rhythm of eighth notes when the constant quarter notes became too boring.
Michael turned to face the grand piano for a second time and his right hand joined in, adding in a melody matching perfectly with my harmony.
"I'm betrothed."
Michael's fingers slammed on the keys then jerked away as he whipped his torso around to face me, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"You're "Oh, my gods, Maria, I ranked the highest out of Cross Academy, I know what 'betrothed' means," he sighed, shooting me a flat look before the irritation changed into astonishment. "You're in an arranged marriage?"
"Like I would say yes to an engagement at this age," I mumbled under my breath. "My grandmother's been preparing to pass on the crown in a few years. We have the worst luck with coronations. When my grandmother was crowned, a building nearby was bombed. A mistake on their part, but it was an extreme case of luck for us. Her father was stabbed during his coronation, but survived because the paramedics came fast enough. If you look through a history book, you'll find that every Banks coronation never goes peacefully."
"What does that have to do with--"
"The Blackewells have full control over a huge part of Egypt's elite army due to the Allegiance of 1876. If there was a war, or a revolution, or if anything remotely bad were to happen, and my family needed more reinforcement, we can only call on two-thirds of the royal army. The last third, and the better trained, belongs to the Blackewells.
