Desire & Blood - The Thorne Siblings

11. The Indomitable

"We were just lucky," Thierry said, but the proud grin on his face told a different story. "And if anyone deserves credit for our success, it's my best helmsman, James Jonson." He put a hand on the shoulders of a wiry man at his side.

I stopped the video. I was at home, in bed with my laptop, stalking Thierry Thorne, shaking my head in bewildered disbelief at the still frame of the man who had made me do that.

I was watching an interview Thierry had given after winning second place in the regatta that Camille had talked about. He was standing on the deck of his yacht, wearing white, sailorish garb and a ribbon of the same color bound around his head. It made him look like a wounded pirate—a dashing, wounded pirate.

The yacht didn't have sails, just motors. I hadn't known they made regattas for these.

It was late at night, way too late. But sleep had failed me, so I had piled my pillows against the wall and opened my computer on my lap, intent on distracting my confused thoughts by reading the news. But instead of reading the latest fake facts, here I was—stalking Thierry.

Yes, I knew—if I wanted to sleep, that was the last thing I should do.

He wore a big boy grin, fit for the master of a ship and a crew ranking high in a competition. A plate on the wall behind him carried the vessel's name, The Indomitable, and some smaller writing below it. I squinted at the text, trying to decipher it.

The Indomitable

Proudly serviced by Yachting Care Services, Ltd.

Yachting Care Services, Ltd. I remembered the name. It was the company that had been mentioned in the expenses that had been paid with TCorp money as authorized by Thierry.

So The Indomitable had to be the ship that TCorp was running.

Intrigued, I wondered if there was a way to confirm this. I brought up a new window and searched for 'The Indomitable, yacht'. The number of hits was surprising. There were whole websites dedicated to collecting data on the luxurious boats cruising the seven seas.

The second one of them provided the information I had been looking for—the ship's owner.

It was Thierry Thorne.

So, the expenses I had flagged must have been for another vessel. Thierry had said they were for a company-owned boat. He wouldn't lie—or would he? 

And did I want to know?

I sighed, closed the window and went back to stalking Thierry.

The Thierry who had kissed me.

~~~

Next day at the office was business as usual until a courier arrived.

"Anne Anderson?" The man standing at the entrance to our office, feet planted apart and surveying us women, had his greasy, black hair plastered to his scalp and wore a DHL uniform.

"Yes?" I was surprised. We hardly ever got courier mail here, and it had never been addressed to me.

He swaggered over and handed me a cardboard tube close to a yard long. "Please sign here, Anne." He proffered me a scanner device and an electronic pen.

Confused, I left my signature. He goodbyed and marched off.

I turned the tube in my hands. No sender, just my name, c/o Accounting Department 2A, with TCorp's address.

"Open it," Camille said. She and Sandra had closed in on me.

I removed a stopper from one end of the tube. A transparent plastic foil was inside. I pulled and liberated the tube's contents—a single, crimson, long-stemmed rose.