As soon as Willem’s limousine started to move, he didn’t waste another second, pulling out the foldable laptop table from the side of the car, where his MacBook Pro was attached with a specially designed mount.

He typed Serenity’s name on the search box and was stunned a moment later when dozens of archived news reports showed up. He scanned the text swiftly but thoroughly, and questions he hadn’t even thought of asking were answered.

He had reminded her of her father, Willem realized grimly, when he had reached out to ruffle her hair. Apparently, it was a rather familiar gesture of the late and psychotic Daniel Raleigh when expressing his approval of his student’s performance.

Closing his laptop, he asked his bodyguards how long they had been speaking to Serenity.

There was a moment’s hesitation before Smit answered, “Almost an hour, sir.”

Willem was skeptical. “Almost an hour?”

“Forty-eight minutes to be exact, sir.” It was Molen’s turn to answer. “It’s SOP for us to take note of the time whenever we make contact during our shift. It could prove important later.”

“And what did you two talk about?”

“Nothing in particular, sir. It was mostly the young girl asking the questions.” The first bodyguard paused. “We did notice, however, her apparent reluctance to enter the home the moment she found out about her family entertaining a guest.”

“I see.” How…curious, Willem thought to himself. And then his phone rang, and as he became involved in a discussion about the current crisis hounding the continent and its economic impact, thoughts of Serenity Raleigh were forgotten. He would probably have never spared her another thought after that if fate hadn’t intervened the next day.

Willem was on the escalator descending to the central library’s ground floor, his security in front and behind him, when he heard a scuffle from the opposite escalator. He looked towards the sound curiously and saw a mother scolding her child for hanging half of his body off the rail.

Behind them was Serenity.

She was dressed in a pale blue short-sleeved shirt, tucked inside white embroidered shorts, and was on her way up on the opposite escalator. As if sensing his eyes touching her, she looked up, and blue eyes met blue.

She reached the top and stepped off the escalator.

He reached the bottom and promptly stepped off, went around, and took the escalator back up.

It threw his security off, all of them scrambling to follow him, but Willem paid none of them any heed. He was in a contemplative mood, his gaze never straying from the girl standing serenely at the side of the escalator, her own eyes unblinking as they met his.

If it had been any other woman, he would have suspected that their encounter had been engineered on purpose. But this was Serenity Raleigh, and there was something so dignified about the fourteen-year-old girl-slash-woman that made him dismiss any such notion.

If this girl were to do something intentional, then it would only be to avoid him.

When he stepped off the escalator and came to stand in front of her, the girl said politely, “Sir.”

“Willem.” His voice was just as polite, and he only corrected Serenity to tease her.

Her blonde brows furrowed, but even with the frown marring her smooth pale forehead, it failed to detract from her loveliness, and he marveled absently at how lovely she was.

She would be quite the heartbreaker when she grew up, Willem thought, but not in the way Shane was. No, her older sister’s beauty was more glamorous, the type to dazzle. Serenity’s looks, on the other hand, were softer and…kinder, the type that soothed, despite her lips never curving in a smile.

The realization made Willem grim, reminding him of what he had learned about the child’s past.

“Do you visit the ODA often?” he heard himself ask, referring to the central library by its name and testing to see if she would understand. He wasn’t certain why it mattered to him, only that it did. He wanted to be sure Serenity had properly adjusted to her new life.

“It’s my favorite place in the city.”

“And Mokum in general? How do you find it?”

“Peaceful. It’s nothing like the city I grew up in.”

Her recognition of Amsterdam’s colloquial name allowed Willem to relax.

If the news reports had been right, then she would have only been living in Amsterdam with her stepmother and Shane for over six months. A sufficient length of time for most people to adjust, Willem knew, but for someone who had to recover from the trauma of having one’s parent kill himself in her presence, even forever might not be enough to make one forget.

“Have you fully explored Amsterdam?”

Shane’s sister shook her head. “I like savoring every discovery.”

An unusual answer for a fourteen-year-old, Willem thought, but then again Serenity Raleigh was anything but ordinary.

“You walk often?”

“Sometimes. Other times, I take my bike.”

“I see.” Although it was a well-known fact that there were more bikes than people in Amsterdam, most women Willem was acquainted with considered biking beneath them and instead preferred traveling in chauffeured cars.

“And you, sir?” the girl was asking him.

He was puzzled. “What about me?”

“What brings you here to the ODA?”

“I was invited to a ribbon-cutting ceremony as the representative of the royal side of the family.” He waited for her to ask more about his royal relatives, and she soon granted half of his wish.

“May I go now, sir?” She had indeed asked a question, but not the one he was expecting.

“Yes, of course.” He suppressed a smile, thinking ruefully how good this girl would be at keeping him humble. “I didn’t mean to keep you.” It seemed he was fated to say those words over and over, and the worst thing about it was how a part of him wanted to do just that.

Keep her, so she wouldn’t come to harm.

“Have a nice day, sir.”

“You, too.”

He watched her walk away, her long blonde locks neatly interlaced in a single plait, her back straight, her stride crooked as she…limped.

Willem’s gaze narrowed, but as he continued watching her, he had to accept the truth that he wasn’t seeing wrong.

She was limping.

* * *

“Serenity.”

She heard the Dutch billionaire call her name and forced herself to stop even though all she wanted to do was run away. There was something about the way he said her name she didn’t like, and when her sister’s rumored boyfriend came to stand in front of her again, she realized what it was.

She saw it in his eyes, which were too uncannily like hers.

She saw it in the grim set of his face, which seemed too handsome for someone who had all the money in the world.

And, most of all, she saw it in the way he immediately shoved his hands deep in his trousers’ pockets as he came close to her.

Pity.

She had a feeling he pitied her for all the right reasons. Someone like Willem de Konigh wouldn’t have trouble uncovering the truth about her, never mind if the media’s interest in Daniel Raleigh’s orphaned daughter had long disappeared.

What Willem de Konigh wanted, Serenity had a feeling the Dutch billionaire never had any trouble acquiring.

But if what he wanted was someone who would welcome his pity, then he would certainly have his first taste of disappointment

When the billionaire reached her, Serenity said quietly, “I won’t always be limping like this.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t quite the truth either. The doctors had told her that the limp would lessen, gradually, but it would never go away.

She was fine with that.

Unfortunately, the world wasn’t, and this man standing before her was proof of it.

“I see.” But Serenity saw that he was having trouble seeing it. She could almost feel his frustration, his anger that she had to suffer such a handicap.

And for a second, she was tempted to explain it wasn’t that at all. His anger…touched her, made Serenity want to make the billionaire see that her limp was her way of atonement, a much-needed reminder of what could happen if she were selfish again.

But in the end, she didn’t. There was no point. She was sure that the billionaire’s interest in her was just fleeting, a rich man’s whim that would inevitably fade.

“Does it still hurt?” she heard the billionaire ask.

She shook her head, yet another half-truth. It almost never hurt, but the billionaire didn’t have to know that either.

“Your shoes,” the billionaire murmured. He was staring at her feet as he spoke, and it was almost as if her choice of footwear – a pair of two-inch wedges – offended him. She was still debating whether to feel insulted or not when he asked, “Don’t they add to your discomfort?”

Oh. She could feel her cheeks turning pink as she half-lied in a flustered voice, “N-not really.” She couldn’t help feeling guilty that she had thought so badly of his words when in reality he had only been concerned.

His lips suddenly twitched, and she had a bad feeling the billionaire knew exactly why she was blushing. His voice, however, was polite and formal as he said, “This time, I truly won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Sere.”

It startled her so, his use of a nickname, that by the time she recovered and thought of telling him how everyone but him called her Serenity, he was already walking away.

He left her staring after him, left her struggling not to surrender to whimsical dreams that had no place in reality.

He was Willem de Konigh, a man who was fourteen years older than she was.

He was Willem de Konigh, the man whose kisses made her older sister Shane sound almost like she had a heart.

He was Willem de Konigh, the Dutch billionaire everyone wanted to marry.

Serenity did her best to remember this and forget him.

And she almost did, until she went back to boarding school and found a beautifully wrapped parcel waiting for her.

Inside it was the most exquisite pair of pumps, and with shaking hands, she lifted one shoe up. When she ran her fingers on its insole, tears stung her eyes. The feel of the material, as well as its design and construction, told Serenity that these were shoes specially made for someone like her.

She was about to return the shoe into the box when she saw the card lying at the bottom, half-hidden under the other shoe.

When she had first been hospitalized, people had sent her gifts and cards, and all of it had alluded to her return to the world of dancing. It made her stomach curl up in dread, thinking that this card could be the same.

Inhaling deeply, she flipped the card to read its handwritten message.

To make you soar.

~ WDK