Everyone finished eating their dinners over chatty conversation. The food really was amazing.
“Anyone want to look around the rest of the boat?” I suggested.
“Totally,” Madison agreed.
“I can’t wait to snoop through Tiffany’s medicine cabinets,” Romeo said impishly. “She’s probably got lots of drugs.”
“I’ve got to hit the head,” Jake said, standing up.
“Make sure you don’t break it,” Madison quipped. “Tiffany’s toilet probably costs more than you’ve earned all year.”
Jake smiled at her. “If I win Mavericks this March, then I’ll have plenty of extra cash.”
“Dude,” Christos gawked, “did you finally get invited to surf Mavericks? Why didn’t you tell me?!” He flung his arms around Jake, clapping him on the back.
“Cool your jets, bro,” Jake laughed. “I’m number seven on the alternates list. Wanna go break some kneecaps, make sure I get on the invite list?” he joked. “We only gotta put seven guys out of commission, and I’m totally in.”
“Give me the list of names,” Christos smiled, “and I’ll make it happen.”
Everyone laughed while gravitating toward the staircase leading down to the main deck, except Brandon.
“Christos?” Brandon asked. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” he said to Brandon. To me he said, “I’ll catch up with you in a second.”
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go, you guys.”
I followed Madison, Jake, Romeo, and Kamiko down the ladder to the main deck, leaving Christos alone with Brandon.
CHRISTOS
Samantha waved at me as she and everyone else left the upper deck.
It was just me and Brandon.
We walked casually to the railing on the back of the upper deck and looked out at the open water.
As long as I’d known the guy, he was never what I’d call a true friend. My family knew his family and we did business together. I didn’t dislike the guy. But did I genuinely like him? It changed by the minute, depending on his agenda. He could be a decent ally one second, or that thorny thistle in your sock when you’re trying to run a marathon the next.
“Christos,” Brandon smiled warmly, holding up his wine glass, “I have to congratulate you, the sales at your first solo show were nothing short of astounding.” He clinked wine glasses with me.
“Thanks, man,” I said, sipping my wine, wondering where he was going with this. Brandon always had an angle.
“Now I’m getting calls from new buyers almost daily. Celebrity clients, famous collectors, many of them international. You’re hot right now, Christos. The influential buyers who dictate the art market want your paintings, and they want them now. How soon do you think you can have a new solo show ready? I’m confident we can double your prices from the last show, and sell everything.” Brandon’s eyes flickered dollar signs.
There was the angle. Me busting my ass to churn out new work. I had no doubt Brandon was in love with the idea.
I smeared my hand across my stubbled cheeks and sighed heavily.
Reality check.
This was exactly the same shit that had turned my dad from an artist into an alcoholic. He got caught up in catering to a bunch of rich shitheads who didn’t give a fuck about him. They just wanted to say they had an original Nikolos Manos hanging in their mansions. Almost like they wanted a piece of him, like his hand or his foot, spiked to the wall over their fireplaces like a human sacrifice.
Look, everybody, they’d all wanted to be able to say to their snooty friends, here hangs the body of Nikolos Manos, and I own it.
Shit. I could cut my own head off, have it mounted on a wood plaque, and have Brandon sell it for a hundred million bucks. I’d be the most famous artist in history for a stunt like that. All Van Gogh had to do was lose an ear. Imagine what my whole head would bring.
I sighed heavily.
“Let me know what you need, Christos,” Brandon said warmly, like he would do anything for me, like it wasn’t about the money, like all he cared about was little old me.
“Supplies?” he continued, “I’ll make sure you have whatever you need delivered directly to Spiridon’s house. Art models? I can call some modeling agencies up in L.A. and get you some fresh faces. Fresh faces always sell paintings.”
What I needed was a break from his sales pitch. It was making my head spin.
“But there’s one face I think you need to paint more than any other,” he said deviously.
I knew where this was going. “Yeah, who’s that?” I smirked.
“Samantha.”
I arched an eyebrow. I hated it when he called her Samantha. He knew I was the only one who called her that.
“I’ve said it before,” he continued, “you need your Mona Lisa, your Girl with a Pearl Earring. Samantha is that girl.”
Why did I get a bad feeling all of a sudden?
“I don’t think she’s going to want to sit for a painting,” I said.
Brandon scrutinized me shrewdly. I saw the dollar signs cash-registering behind his eyes.
“No matter,” he said calmly. “I’ll call L.A. We’ll find faces for you to paint. The main thing is that we keep your momentum going.”
I chuckled. “Gotta keep the animals fed.” Before they chewed my fingers off.
Why did I feel like the golden handcuffs of my art career had become a golden noose around my neck? Oh yeah, because my dad was a famous artist, and it tore my family apart and nearly killed him with drink.
Question was, would I be next?
Amend that. At this rate, with Brandon breathing down my back, the only question was:
When?
Man, I thought I’d had problems when my ass had been hauled to jail three months ago.
Turned out, the shit was just getting started.
I threw back my wine glass and emptied it in one swallow.
I needed another fucking drink.
Chapter 4
SAMANTHA
For the next few hours, everyone had a good time on the boat. The buffet on the dining room table was replaced with an elaborate collection of scrumptious desserts. Me, Madison, and Kamiko had eyes bigger than our stomachs and wanted to munch on each one. Fortunately, Christos and Jake were happy to gulp down what we didn’t finish. Romeo avoided the desserts despite his desire, citing the maintenance of his girlish figure.
We circulated amongst the people on board, and it turned out that not all of Tiffany’s friends were snooty bitches like she was. I had way more fun than I’d expected.
When the hour approached midnight, everyone gathered in the living room on the main deck.
Gold and silver balloons now decorated the room. Foil-covered letters reading “HAPPY NEW YEAR” hung from the ceiling in several places. People passed around bags of noisemakers containing classic paper blowout whistles, glitter-covered party horns, plastic knockers, and those plastic champagne-bottle confetti poppers.
I snagged one of the confetti poppers. They were always my favorite. Romeo grabbed two golden party horns and put them up to his nostrils.
“You don’t sneeze in them!” I joked.
He winked at me. “What do you mean, I thought that’s how you worked them!” He gave them a quick snoot-blast and they wheezed weakly. “That was lame. I think I need to blow harder.” He sucked in a big breath, ready to blow.
“No don’t!” Kamiko pleaded.
“Kidding,” Romeo grinned.
Madison and Jake had an arm around each other and were busy dueling with plastic clackers, laughing hysterically. They were so into each other.
Christos slid his arms around me. “Did you grab me a noisemaker? I totally want one of those air-horn cans.”
“You’re such a guy,” I smiled. “You always have to have the biggest, loudest thing in the room, don’t you?”
“That’s why I picked you,” he joked.
“Are you saying I’m
big and loud?” I smiled.
“Loud maybe, but the only thing big about you is your heart, agápi mou.”
I gazed into his eyes. So blue, so precious. His exquisite smile widened over his even teeth. My body flushed with heat when he bit his full lower lip. I totally wanted to nibble on that lip myself. He leaned down for a quick kiss.
The two guys dressed in black and white circulated the main deck with trays loaded with champagne flutes.
Tiffany clinked a glass with a fork to get everyone’s attention. She was so party appropriate.
“Grab some champagne, everybody!” Tiffany cheered, “it’s almost midnight!” I’m pretty sure she’d been captain of the cheerleading squad in high school, based on her tone of voice and delivery. She probably carried pompons in her pockets at all times, in case of a cheer emergency.
Christos had his arm around my waist as the waiters came by and both of us grabbed a glass.
“Do we wait until midnight to drink it?” I asked him.
“Do whatever you want, agápi mou. There’s no right way to celebrate.”
I glanced around the room and saw some people sipping their champagne while others waited patiently. I decided to wait, like Christos was. Somehow, it seemed more special if we drank together at the stroke of midnight.
“Have you figured out what your New Year’s resolution is going to be, Sam?” Romeo asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I know what mine is,” Christos purred.
“Do tell!” Romeo said. “I’m all ears!”
Christos nodded down at me. “She’s right here.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“I totally do,” Romeo said confidently. “He’s going to do you for the New Year’s, riiiiight, Christos?”
“Romeo!” I blurted.
When Christos chuckled, I swatted his arm. “Stop!”
Christos only laughed. “He said it!”
Christos and I still hadn’t had sex yet, but geez, did Romeo have to make a national headline out of it? SAMANTHA SMITH, LAST COLLEGE VIRGIN IN AMERICA. I pictured those grainy grocery store gossip magazine photos of me and Christos running shamefully from the paparazzi cameras.
“Don’t be bashful, Sam,” Madison said. “It’s no big deal.”
I rolled my eyes. “Easy for you to say, Mads. You and Jake probably—” I stopped myself short.
“What?” Madison giggled.
“You know,” I wiggled my head and arched my eyebrows. “Do…it,” I said bashfully.
Why did I feel so shy about sex all of a sudden? Maybe because I sensed that in the not too distant future, I would be having it for the first time myself, with the man I loved. I shivered pleasurably at the thought.
“Isn’t she cuuute?” Romeo said in a gooshy baby-talk voice. “Widdle Samanfa is going to turn in her V-card for the New Year!”
A group snicker from Madison, Jake, Romeo, and Kamiko ensued at my expense.
Why did the phrase “turning in your V-card” always make me picture an NFL referee in striped black and white, blowing a whistle? TWEEEEET!!! Both the ref’s arms go up over his head. “The kick is good! Samantha Smith is no longer a virgin!” And why was it a kick? Like I laid on the football field, on my back, waiting for the kicker to wind up before ramming his cleated foot home between my legs?
I shuddered to myself.
Wasn’t there a better term for it? Like, “Hosting a V-Pageant Celebration?” I mean, “Turning in your V-card” was about as romantic as “Winning the Megafucks V-stakes Sweepstakes Giveaway.”
I shook my head, trying to clear that nasty thought. The next thing I knew, I was imagining Christos and I naked in bed together in a more traditionally romantic fashion. My heart accelerated and my entire body flushed with electric heat. I wanted to fan myself, but opted instead for blinking away my steamy fantasy. No need to call more attention to myself.
So why was the gang grinning and staring at me? Were they reading my mind, or what?
Normally, I indulged in my bedroom fantasies about Christos privately. Not with my best friends scrutinizing me with expectant smiles. They may as well have been surrounding my bed while Christos and I finally did the deed.
I suddenly pictured Romeo holding up a scorecard like a figure-skating judge when Christos and I shared our first mutual orgasm. He would say, “Was it good for you two? Because I know it was good for me!”
I grimaced.
“What?” Christos asked innocently.
I choked out a laugh. “Oh, you so don’t want to know.”
“Oh, we so do,” Romeo chided.
He would. All eyes were still on me. I desperately needed a distraction. Now would’ve been the opportune moment for our yacht to hit an iceberg. Unfortunately the waters off the coast of San Diego were generally iceberg free, from what I understood.
“It’s almost midnight, you guys!” Tiffany cheered. “Get ready for the countdown!”
For the first time since I’d met her, I could honestly say to myself, thank god for Tiffany.
“Ten, nine, eight…” Tiffany started.
The crowd joined in.
“Seven, six,…” everyone chorused.
I glanced up at Christos. The warmth in his eyes wrapped around me as he pulled me into his rock hard chest.
“Five, four…”
Christos leaned down, his lips loose and plump, about to kiss me…
“Three, two, one…”
The universe disappeared as our lips met and we plunged into each other. Heightened by the moment, it was possibly the most intense kiss I’d ever experienced.
“Happy New Year!!!” everyone shouted. The horns and whistles blew, the noisemakers clacked, and the champagne-poppers popped and shot confetti around the room, all while balloons burst and the entire room cheered in 2014.
I was nearly lost to the sounds around me as Christos deepened our kiss, submerging me in an ocean of love. He consumed me, taking my soul into his. I let him devour me entirely with his lips. I gave all of myself to that kiss, and he felt it. His hunger for me was palpable. His tongue teased the tip of mine. My heart raced and my pulse pounded from my head to my toes. I ran a hand down the thin sweater material covering Christos’ rippled abs. I grabbed his belt and pulled him toward me. I wanted him. Right now.
His tongue slid deeper into my mouth.
Oh my goodness…
Oh my Christos…
The fact that I felt a bulge in his jeans pressing into my taut stomach may have had something to do with my intense desire. Heedless of the chaotic crowd around me, I was coaxed by sudden lust to release my grip on his belt and slide my fingers down between his washboard abs and his pants while we continued our kiss.
Although our passionate kiss nearly held my full attention, something else tugged at my awareness. My fingers were now officially submerged in uncharted waters. My hands had never been this close to Christos’…
The signals tingling through my fingertips were like sonar messages that sent hazy mental images to my brain. My hand dove deeper and I caressed my fingers along a rigid velvet submersible.
Oh.
I wasn’t at all prepared for it.
Apparently, neither was Christos. He spasmed and sucked in a hissing breath, but our lips remained locked.
A distinct visual impression penetrated my brain, igniting my core with desire.
In a word: massive.
Not that I had much experience in this department. Beyond my recent but brief brushes with fate and Christos’ manhood, my only frame of reference in the touching department had been picking out mammoth bananas or ripened cucumbers at the grocery store, or maybe squirreling up tree trunks as a little girl, because that was how huge he seemed to me.
I giggled to myself, realizing that sandwiched in the middle of the word cucumber was the word cum. Whoa! I was turning into a female Romeo!
I withdrew my hand from Christos’ pants with
exquisite slowness, sliding it back up the bottom of his chiseled eight-pack. His feathery hair down there tickled my fingertips. That sensation alone caused my entire body to quiver in Christos’ arms.
After my pleasant shudder passed, I peered up into his ravenous eyes. I was so ready for him to devour me…
But we were on Tiffany’s yacht, surrounded by revelry and my closest friends. My V-card would have to wait. I reluctantly broke off our kiss and snuggled my cheek into his chest. I slid my hands around his waist and caressed his back. “I love you,” I whispered. I was sure my words were lost in the din of everyone’s shouts and all the strident noisemakers.
Christos kissed the top of my head. “I love you too,” Christos whispered. “Happy New Year, agápi mou.”
I stared up into his loving eyes.
“Did you make a New Year’s resolution?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“Care to share?”
I squinched up my face timidly. “Not at the moment?”
“Aww, come on. Just a tease? I’m dying to know.”
“Let’s just say…” I grinned, “…it has something to do with hosting a pageant.”
Christos’ smile widened and his dimples appeared.
I stood on my tiptoes and licked one dimple, then the other, before pecking him softly on the lips.
I was desperately in love with this man.
I sighed contently. This was the best New Year’s Eve I’d ever had. Nothing could ruin it.
My 2014 was going to rock, I was certain of it.
I was so swept away by the moment, I almost completely missed the double-dagger glare Tiffany was giving me.
SAMANTHA
The New Year’s celebrations were in full swing.
It turned out there were audio speakers hidden all over Tiffany’s yacht, so when someone cranked up the party mix tunes, every flat surface on the ship became an impromptu dance floor.
Christos and I were on the wooden deck on the top floor of the boat, dancing like lunatics, laughing and gyrating under the moon and stars.
Romeo and Kamiko climbed the stairs, drinks in hand, and danced next to us.
“You guys are so cute together,” I said to them sarcastically.
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