by Pamela Ann
Jack Yates looked up with a smooth grin that lit up his face, showing perfect teeth. He had warm brown eyes, not cerulean blue ones like the man back home. “Miss Weber, can I get you anything?” He placed the clipboard down as he focused on me.
It was unnerving to face him when only minutes ago, my friends were taunting me to pursue him. “You know your way around drinks?” Normally, a bartender or one of the wait staff was around. But I supposed they were having lunch, and if that were the case, I wouldn’t want to intrude.
He granted me a perfect smile before licking his lips, drawing my eyes to his red puckers. “Of course. I’m quite decent,” he said with a light chuckle, warm brown eyes dancing with amusement.
I broke into a matching grin, feeling quite silly I was even nervous being around him. “I want something light, non-bubbly, definitely alcoholic, and fruity.”
Jack made a quick nod. “Right away, madam.” A flirty, playful smile tugged at his lips.
Focused on making the drink, Jack gave me a great view of his side profile, and my stomach immediately dropped. My eyes absorbed everything he did. Oddly enough, I found myself fascinated.
Damn. Whether I’d like to admit it or not, apparently any man who looked like Jared had an effect on me. Unfortunately.
Engaged in filling the silver shaker with alcohol and freshly crushed berries, he took a peek at me, catching me intensely scrutinizing him. “Are you having a bit of fun sunbathing?” he softly inquired, his husky British tone making me tingle in certain places.
My blush deepened. Had he been watching us? Probably. It was somewhat part of his job to make sure he knew where we were at all times.
“Yeah, I suppose I am,” I calmly responded before I reached out over the bar for a piece of olive, and then I felt something snap. In a heartbeat, my bikini top unraveled on its own; it came loose around my torso. Since the top part was still secured, it rode above my breasts, giving Jack Yates a full frontal of my bountiful assets.
“What the ever loving—” Fuck! How embarrassing! My cheeks profusely flamed as I tried my damnedest to cover my full C-cups. Unfortunately, they pushed up and overflowed over my hands.
“Let me help you.” Jack came behind me. His hands softly grazed the sides of my torso as he instructed me to let go so he could pull the triangles. Reluctantly, I did as he asked before I felt the top tightening around me, secured. He dipped his head close to my ear, warm breath teasing my ear. “You don’t have to be disconcerted. You have a gorgeous set,” he murmured before I felt him let go of me.
Oh, hell. He was toying with me, and I wasn’t sure how to respond to his blatant flirtation. I gulped nervously as I tentatively watched him round the bar to finish my drink.
I licked my lips, still aroused from his breath brushing my skin. “Are you always this … frisky?”
“It depends,” he responded before glancing at me and rapidly beginning to move the shaker with one hand then tipping it over the champagne flute, and purplish liquid poured out of it. “I couldn’t help it. You looked quite rattled. You’re too gorgeous not to see you smile.”
He liked me; there was no mistaking it. But his bold compliments hadn’t necessarily bought me over yet.
“Well, thanks all the same,” I said as I grasped my drink from the counterpane. “See you around.” I threw him a frown before walking back on the deck, barefoot, and quite unsure what to make of that impromptu incident with Jack Yates. No way in hell would I tell my friends, though. They’d take it as a sign that I’d let him “chase Jared out of my vag.”
The image of Jared standing in the foyer while waiting for me to show up still made me feel like a totally cold-hearted person. It was awful to do that to him, but I feared had I declined his offer, since I’d already said yes to his previous invitation, that he wouldn’t take no for an answer the second time. I had taken the easy way out, but it had been the only way I could get away from him without drawing suspicion. It had been eight days since that night, and he hadn’t left my thoughts since.
Had I crossed his mind? With his active sex life, he’d probably replaced Yovanna in his bed. His job was demanding, and one of the ways he unleashed stress was through sex—obliterating, mind-numbing, titillating, out of this world sex. And based on my one-time experience with him, Jared was also a demanding lover. Had I gone with him back to the hotel, he’d have taken me a few more times. The hunger I felt vibrating off his body as he thrust inside me was too intense to die out quickly. He’d have expelled all his strength and energy on me. Those sinful lips of his whispered the delightful things he intended to do to me the second he had me fully naked and at his disposal—all night long, he promised.
My bosom felt heavy. I could feel my aroused nipples straining against the fabric of my bikini. A shiver ran through me at thought of him. To this day, I could still feel him inside me, throbbing, larger than life.
Oh, Jared, I thought with great regret. Was it foolish of me to walk away? The question still haunted me, but the truth also couldn’t be denied, Jared lusted after Lexi, not the real me. So, debating and harping over it was futile since he never cared to look at me twice.
Admitting the truth still profoundly wounded me.
Unrequited love. It was the most damning kind of emotion. Like a whirlpool, it sucked you in and it ceaselessly spun in a maddening merry-go-round, never stopping until it had drained you dry and stripped you of any inhibitions, of any rights, until you’d surrendered. It mercilessly took you apart piece-by-piece; it dismantled you, pillaging every layer you had until you were fully exposed, barren and unshielded from its fickle clutch.
It perfectly depicted my sorry state. From the very moment my eyes caught sight of him, I’d been drawn to him. One obliterating look was all it took to make me fall at his feet. Try as I might to get his unwavering attention, the man simply wasn’t interested in me.
Nothing like being doused with ice-cold truth. It stung like no other.
It is time to move on, I thought with a heavy pang in my heart. Pining for a man who plainly saw me as Peter Weber’s daughter was a waste of time.
Tonight, maybe I’d decide to walk on the wild side. Maybe Jack Yates wasn’t a bad idea, after all.
Chapter 4
Gisele
We’d been seated in the club for less than thirty minutes before Blair and Vivienne deliberately left me at the booth with Jack while they dragged poor Ethan to dance with them. They weren’t so slick. It stunk of a setup, and I hoped Jack didn’t see it that way. I’d feel triple embarrassed after this afternoon’s incident if he did.
A smile tugged at Jack’s lips, amused at the blatant attempt my friends had made to try to make us happen. It seemed he was the type whose cheeks reddened once alcohol got into their system. The look softened him; it enhanced his boyish good looks.
“I’m sorry,” I said, grinning, “I swear they’re not normally crazy—wait, I take that back. Yeah, they’re always insane.” Shrugging, I downed my martini in two gulps, feeling brave enough to hold out my hand, staring at him. “Dance with me.”
“About time you asked.” He stood up.
I obviously knew he wasn’t Jared, but somehow, I found comfort at the thought that this could be the second best. If I couldn’t have the real one, then his close doppelganger would do. Insane didn’t come close to describing my train of thought, but a broken heart wasn’t known for rationalizing things. And in this moment, I simply wanted to forget. Lose myself in Jack, hoping he’d be the man who had the power to make me get over Jared St. James.
Well, it didn’t necessarily happen in that order. It took me five days until I allowed him to kiss me. Another three until we did the dirty. I wasn’t sure what I expected. My naiveté sure caught me by surprise. After experiencing Jared’s size, having a quarter of that magnitude trying to poke you…Well, I was beyond astonished. Sure, it still felt good, but it wasn’t anything mind-blowing or earth-shattering. It simply was—well, shallow poking.
&n
bsp; Things weren’t all that splendid, but I appreciated Jack’s enthusiasm since he was a great diversion from my broken heart. But after the first night we had sex, his demeanor changed. He began to complain that work hindered us being together. Stuck in a sticky situation, I didn’t utter a word to my friends. Dating me shouldn’t alter his work ethic. He was specially hired on board to do a job. But each day, he would grate about it to the point where he even offered to quit so we could be with each other at all times.
I’d have said no, too, but I was getting lonely, and I reluctantly budged. My friends weren’t pleased, but they kept it to themselves. After all, if it weren’t for their insistence, I wouldn’t have thought of Jack as my rebound person. With my allowance bankrolling our shopping and whatever activities we did out of the yacht, I thought we were on the same page. But on several occasions, I caught Jack drunk and flirting with other women. On one particular night in Capri, I yanked him away before he almost kissed a woman.
We had our first major row back in our hotel room. After promising me the moon and back, I forgave him.
I suppose I should’ve seen the signs. But I was truly caught off guard when I found his unlocked phone after he passed out drunk. Jack was dating two more women; apparently one was back in the UK and another in Monaco.
After learning the fact, I wasn’t necessarily angry. Disgusted maybe? A little bit used? But then again, I argued that I was somewhat using him to get over Jared, too. So, in a way, we were quite even.
I’d have kicked him off the boat right then and there, but we were in the middle of the sea, sailing towards Croatia. So, for another half a day, I endured his sullen presence. He felt attacked when I confronted him about it. His fury doubled when I broke up with him without an ounce of hesitation. But I didn’t give a damn. He’d crossed me twice now. The first offense, I could forgive. The second? Never. Besides, the decision wasn’t a hardship. It wasn’t as if I was in love with him or anything, or he was granting me obliterating sex, so might as well cut my teeny losses and get on with life.
The second we moored off the coast of Croatia, Jack instantly rushed out of my bedroom, huffing as he obscenely mouthed how ungrateful I was before hopping towards the speedboat, leaving me alone.
We previously had plans for a spa and sightseeing, but when my phone alarm went off, reminding me of my period—well, things became quite interesting.
Dread filled me as my body began to profusely sweat. I was insistent on Jack wearing a condom every single time. Unless…
My throat ached at the idea.
Jared didn’t wear one. Was it even possible? God, I hoped not. This would be cruel in the cruelest of ways.
So, instead of joining my friends to explore the new city, the moment I spotted an unassuming pharmacy, I lamely excused myself, telling them that I had to search for Jack. At this point, they were over him—as was I, but they didn’t know that yet.
“Hello. I need a pregnancy test.” I nervously smiled at the seventy-ish old man who stood behind the counter, blankly staring back at me.
When he simply frowned, I wanted to die on the spot. Could this day get any worse? Fuck.
Okay. Breath in. Breath out. There was no point in panicking. The poor man might need me to elaborate. After all, I was in a foreign country. One shouldn’t expect that everyone spoke English. I was sure most of the country did, but a few were an exception. It was just my luck I had to step into one that made my life more of a struggle. Surprised at my unlucky streak as of late? Not entirely.
“Erm,” I awkwardly said as my mind scattered about the small pharmacy and found a stack of diapers. Pointing at it, I began to describe it to him. “Test for beba.” My hand mimicked a burgeoning baby over my belly. “Beba testing…pregnancy test…if there’s a beba.”
His frown deepened before mumbling something I couldn’t catch. He lifted a finger in the air, wagging it as if to tell me to wait before he went behind the curtained door, only to emerge with a baby milk bottle.
Poor guy.
Poor me.
My energy deflated even more.
“No, no.” I vehemently shook my head, mightily trying to block the frustration slowly creeping into my resolve, imploring the confused frowning old man before me. “No beba!”
Pulling my phone out, I figured my AI would be able to help me translate, but to no avail. My roaming was down.
Shit kabobs. What now?
I pointed my finger towards the door where he recently emerged, feeling hopeful. “May I go in there?” I took a few steps, and I heard him shuffle behind me. “Can I go in there, please?” I tried to do the best animated hand gestures possible before I saw him nod, seemingly understanding what I was trying to convey.
Relieved, I took a few steps and entered the storage room. The back was lined with shelves, and my eyes roamed one after the other until I found what I needed—or the closest to the pregnancy test I’d seen back home. I took three altogether. One for each brand.
The man only grinned, showcasing his toothless state before giving me a thumbs up.
I couldn’t help it; I let out a riotous laugh because my life was far from great. Based on the chain of bullshit knocking me down, my chances of not being pregnant were nil.
Since I didn’t have any kuna, I handed him five one hundred dollar bills, mostly thanking him for trusting me enough to let me inside his storage room so I could hunt down these bastards.
“Hvala ti.” Thank you.
I shoved my items into the purse. Where the hell was Jack, anyway? I thought as I strode back to where the speedboat was stationed, waiting for anyone ready to head back to the yacht.
Vivienne and Ethan were still out and about, and Blair was at the spa. But I wanted to go into my room and was ready to get on with it.
I carefully undressed and only pulled my Japanese soft blue silk robe with cherry blossoms on it before entering the bathroom. Quite unready for doomsday.
Ten minutes later, my suspicions were confirmed.
All three.
Pregnant, it said in small bold letters.
“No. No. No.” I chanted agitatedly as my hand shook while gripping the slender stick. “There’s got to be a mistake,” I whispered unsteadily as my tears welled around my eyes, my sight glassing over at the daunting word that changed my life forever. “I can’t be…” Then a thought came to me. Maybe I need better lighting…Maybe something was broken. I desperately reasoned as I rashly strode over to the door, yanking it open.
My head pounded as my mind repeated the damning word over and over again.
Lifting my hand to the side of my head, I dug my fingers into the roots of my hair, frantic and seconds away from a serious meltdown.
In my current hysteria of trying to get to the window where the bright sunshine beamed brightly, I didn’t see the figure until it was too late.
Chapter 5
Jared
I had barely heard the faint sound of the door shutting behind me when I froze on the spot. My eyes narrowed the moment Gisele hysterically emerged from the bathroom, silently sobbing as she gripped a pale plastic stick. She was so distraught she didn’t even notice me as she clashed against my solid frame, dropping the ominous stick on the carpeted floor.
Our eyes collided. Time stood still as my eyes took her in, devoured the very sight of her while I effortlessly maintained my perfectly rehearsed stance of indifference. Gisele Weber was known for her quiet elegance and class. Known for her warmth, gorgeous smile and striking good looks. The perfectly practiced look of calm and composure apparently went on vacation, too, because the woman before me wasn’t the Gisele everyone knew. But even in her disheveled state, she still was the most stunning woman I’d ever set my eyes upon.
“Jared!” she squeaked. The panic in her stormy gray eyes transformed into a jolt of shock as the full realization of my presence sunk in. Her utter puzzlement was heavily expressed on her pretty face before she fretfully licked her lips and swallowed with difficulty,
seeming quite breathless as she stared at me with a horrified, stricken face.
My gaze steadily noted the tinting of her cheeks, reddening with heightened embarrassment as she wrapped her arms around her torso, hiding her breasts that were blatantly peeking through her silk robe. My eyes lingered on her for a moment before my reluctant attention diverted towards the floor.
Ever so stealthily, I grimly glanced downwards before guardedly grasping the offending object, scrutinizing it with great severity.
My jaw instantaneously locked as the word blatantly stared back at me in bold letters.
Pregnant, it starkly stated.
She’s bloody pregnant?
Oh, for fuck’s sake, she’s eighteen! What in the hell was she doing with her body, playing as though it’s some bloody Russian Roulette?
Gritting my teeth, I mustered my haggard courage to settle down and not give this reckless woman a bloody fucking lecture about safe sex.
The past twenty-four hours had been an unmitigated nightmare. It was getting madder by the day. I was the bearer of bad news, and if she thought her life just took a hasty turn for the worst, she could think again. Life was not one to coddle you when the going got rough. Life granted you mini quakes before it shook your world upside down, cripplingly stomping its mighty strength on you. Its blinding power would crush your chest. It would revel in your screams as it gleefully watched you heave for air. It’d torture you, ruthlessly eviscerate you before it would deal you your final blow, one that would ensure a lifelong lesson of numbness, an emotional mayhem guaranteeing permanent trauma.
Even knowing what I knew, my irritated stance hadn’t diminished. Still highly infuriated at her naiveté, I controlled the seething rage coiling as my eyes took in her tear-stained disheveled state.