by Amber Bardan
“You’re determined to think the worst of me, aren’t you?”
I looked up and met his fierce gaze. “You could always let me call my family and prove me wrong.”
He sighed and put his pastry back onto the plate. “I’ve emailed your family, Angelina. They know you’re fine. So you can stop worrying and relax until we can get you back to them.”
I paused, fingers midway to my lips. “You have?”
“Yes, I sent it last night.”
The croissant fell onto my lap. “Oh no, you’ve made it so much worse...”
“Worse?”
My mouth went dry. A fatty aftertaste coated my tongue. “My parents will never believe an email from some random guy saying I’ve run off with him.” I shuddered. “They really will think something terrible has happened to me.”
Haithem touched my knee and peered into my face. “Hey, do I look like an amateur to you?”
I blinked, his bold features swimming in front of me.
“I sent the email from your account, wrote it as you. Used all those things you said to me.”
A pang filled my chest, and I gripped my forehead with my palm. “You said all that stuff about them smothering me?”
“Would you rather they think you’re in a ditch somewhere?” He leaned back into his own chair.
“No,” I whispered. My throat hurt.
They’d blame themselves now—my parents. And I’d disappointed them enough for one lifetime.
I picked up the coffee and took a small sip. It didn’t taste quite as good anymore. “How could you even know my email address, let alone access my account?”
Haithem stroked his thumb under his chin. “Your résumé.”
“You don’t miss a thing, do you?” I let out a puff of air. “And my password?”
“I have a guy.”
“You have a guy? Who the hell has a guy?” I held out my hands in an incredulous gesture.
He linked his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs.
I wouldn’t be getting any more answers on that topic.
I scooped pastry and crumbs off my lap and deposited them onto the plate, then picked up a small corner of croissant and looked at it.
Something occurred to me that had not before. “You had these baked for me, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“You always so considerate, or am I just special?”
The way he focused on me—screw “special,” he made me feel as if nothing existed outside the cabin.
“You’re. Just. Special.”
Me, special.
My stomach fluttered, and my reason for asking almost fled my mind. “Does that mean I can make requests?” My gaze fell to his chest as though I’d suddenly become fascinated by the way his first button hung open. The way dark hair lightly smattered his olive skin. “Is there a pastry chef on board?”
He remained silent.
I looked up and froze. I’d made another mistake.
“Angel, you don’t want to play this game with me.” His top thumb tapped on his bottom one, and his lips made a slashing line. “I’m so much better at it than you could know.”
“I—” What could I say? No, I wasn’t fishing for information? No, I wasn’t thinking what allies I might find on this massive boat?
“I’m glad you’re not stupid. But believe me, your only friend here is me.” He sat back, his hands moving to his knees. “So you want to know how many people are on board. Let’s not pretend...go ahead and ask me.”
I swallowed. “How many people are on board?”
“My captain and his two crew, the chef, two housekeeping staff members, four of my security team, Karim, and us.” He smiled. “All members of my personal staff. All devoted to me.”
Security team.
I studied him. He could have called them anything. Squad, gang, associates, or even just men.
But he called them security.
Legitimate people had security teams. Other kinds had henchmen.
People under threat had security teams.
There was more to his paranoia than keeping secrets—he was in danger.
Were we?
Maybe he’d given me that one clue, but I doubt he’d give me more.”So, there’re thirteen of us...isn’t that unlucky?”
“Perhaps it is.” He stood. “For the record, only Karim and I speak English. If you were wondering, that is.”
He smiled wider, darker, then turned to the door.
“Wait—”
He looked back at me.
“Do I have to stay up here? Is it safe to go below?”
Haithem sighed and faced me. “It’s better if you spend most of your time up here.” He laid his palm over his chest. “But you are safe anywhere on this boat. You are safe wherever I am.”
My shoulders rolled forward as though a rubber band had been holding them back and had suddenly snapped. “That’s a relief, because I do remember having guns pulled on me.”
“Won’t happen again. You surprised my security, caused alarm.”
I nodded. Somehow, the crazy freaking memory of armed security aiming shiny weapons at me lost its edge as Haithem explained it as if it were natural—reasonable.
What else would become reasonable, the longer I stayed here?
* * *
HOW MANY HOURS had I spent in the cabin?
Too many. All day. A full day on this boat without word from home.
Enough to educate me on exactly what is meant by the term cabin fever.
Idleness, for me, was like sitting on poison barbs. A thousand nasty images poked into me, their venom seeping into my blood. My mother’s face all those weeks she’d sat by my brother’s bedside—how she must be reacting now, thinking I’d run off because of her. Each thought carried its own unique brand of pain.
Wisps of images, snippets of sounds like my mother’s sobs, clutched at me with spindly fingers, wrapped around me, dragged me into memories I couldn’t revisit. Memories I knew would mirror almost exactly what my parents would be going through now.
I walked the length of the cabin. Fifteen strides with my legs. I knew how many steps, but I counted them again. One, two, three, four... Still, I heard it, the name, under all those other nasty little thoughts. A whisper.
Josh.
If I let it, that whisper would grow to a shout then a roar—a shaking, rattling, booming roar that would consume me.
I had to get out.
Had to. I didn’t have a choice. I’d drown if I stayed in the cabin. I’d have a better chance of survival in the water. At least then I’d be busy trying to stay afloat.
I ran to the window. Nothing but blue stretching out to the horizon.
Pale blue sky. Dark blue ocean.
Haithem had said it’d be “better” for me to stay in here, but there was still a whole floor below me I hadn’t explored. I left the cabin and went onto the deck.
A whirling sound buzzed through the air. I looked up. A helicopter cut through the sky, flying directly toward us. I froze, watching it grow from a small, toy-like thing to life size.
A helicopter...
My chest filled with breath, and I waved my hands above my head in wide sweeps. The helicopter drew closer, the whirring louder. My hair blew around my face, tangling over my mouth. I added a jump to my movements, not even caring that Haithem’s shirt flapped up to my waist.
“If I’d known you’d be this excited, I may have organized this sooner.” Haithem’s words boomed over the noise.
I jumped. The helicopter flew over our heads and somehow knocked the air from my lungs. The shirt whipped up to my armpits. I grabbed the fabric, hauling it down over my chest—over my full
y exposed boobs. Haithem wrapped his arms around my waist, keeping me upright and my shirt in place.
Oh, dear lord.
The helicopter hovered over a space on the protruding lower deck, marked with a giant H in a circle. The wind eased, and I smoothed the shirt over my hips. Thank god my panties had dried, even if my bra hadn’t.
Thank you, god—really. I couldn’t have handled that indignity.
I turned and pulled out of Haithem’s embrace. He laughed. Bloody bastard, and damn him, his laugh was just as captivating as the first time I’d heard it.
I pushed his chest then swiped hair out of my face. “Don’t you dare enjoy this. I have no clean clothes, thanks to you.”
He raised one brow. “No, if you truly fell into the lifeboat, then you have no clean clothes thanks to you being too stubborn to let me walk you to the dock.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Oh, really, and if I’d signed on all your dotted lines and let you sweep me up in your romantic, ironclad contractual fantasy, would I have clean clothes then?” I raised my own eyebrow, because, yeah, I could do that, too. “Or did you plan on keeping me naked the entire time?”
He lost his cocky expression, but the one that replaced it made my stomach do gymnastics. Reminded me exactly why I’d hopped on the damn boat in the first place. Reminded me exactly what I’d wanted from him.
What I still did want from him, if I were honest and let my mind drift there.
“If you’d taken me up on my offer, Angel, then no, you wouldn’t have much need for clothes.” He ran his gaze down to my thighs then back up. “But you would’ve had them. Karim could’ve taken you to collect some things, or I would’ve organized overnight shopping before we left.”
Always with an answer for everything. But I didn’t want to think about how different things might’ve been if I’d said yes—didn’t want to imagine what I’d most likely be busy doing right now.
I glanced at the helicopter. The guards carried large packages out of the helicopter and jogged out of sight.
“You have a visitor?”
“A delivery,” he said.
Geez, what could he be getting delivered by helicopter in the middle of the ocean?
Probably better I didn’t find out. I tossed a lethal look at him and strode toward the cabin. Footsteps thundered up the stairs. My pulse jumped, and I ran the rest of the way to the cabin and slammed the door.
The door opened behind me, and I spun, linking my arms over my chest. One of the guards—one of the ones I’d “met” after I’d climbed out of the lifeboat—strode into the room. Haithem followed behind him. I backed against the wall, my gaze flicking between the dark-haired-cowboy, gun-wielding guard and Haithem.
Haithem gestured to the bed and said something in Spanish. I leaned against the wall and stared at the guard. Spanish. Haithem didn’t usually speak Spanish. He spoke English or what I could only take a wild, uneducated guess and say was Arabic.
But I recognized Spanish. I knew Spanish.
Well... I knew sangria, and paella de marisco, and a few phrases learned from watching television, but that was beside the point. I knew something I didn’t know before.
I’d learned something on my own.
Something Haithem didn’t know I knew. That made me want to smile—but I didn’t. Instead, I watched Spanish gun-slinging-cowboy-guard place several bags on the bed.
Another guard came into the room, this one with boxes, which he also placed on the bed.
They left, and I turned to Haithem.
“What—?” I paused as the two other guards came in, adding to the growing mountain of bags and packages slowly covering the surface of the giant bed.
The whirling intensified, and I looked out the window. The helicopter lifted off the helipad. The last two guards left, and the original two returned, bringing with them two final loads of what I’d only begun to verify as merchandise.
Department store merchandise.
Boutique merchandise.
Designer brand merchandise.
Shoe merchandise.
Because most of the bags had labels. Labels I recognized, although I’d never actually purchased anything from any of those fancy places. But given I was the proud owner of a vagina, I knew a designer brand when I saw one.
Perhaps Haithem was smuggling illegal contraband stuffed in shoe boxes and perfume bottles?
The guards left the room, shutting the door behind them. I turned to Haithem. He sat on the end of the bed, the look on his face so supremely satisfied I got the awful feeling this all had something to do with me.
He held a hand out, gesturing across the bed. “You are welcome.”
“What do you mean?” I stared at the Mount Everest-sized pile of shopping bags.
Haithem’s lips twitched. “Clean clothes... I believe you were just complaining about not having any?”
“No way—you wouldn’t get all this just for me.” I walked a step closer to the bed, but didn’t touch any of the bags—just let myself have a closer look.
“Can and did.”
I glanced up. He’d pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing his bronze forearms. I should’ve known not to underestimate Haithem.
“You can start opening things. Nothing will bite.”
I moved to the very edge of the bed and looked over the bags and boxes, then dragged over one of the least scary plastic department store bags and pulled out the contents. I unfolded dark blue jeans and held them to my waist.
Something in my chest uncurled, spreading warmth into my body. I glanced at Haithem. He watched me hold the jeans against my hips. I don’t know what I’d expected. A French maid outfit or a fishnet bodysuit?
Not this.
Not comfortable, practical and thoughtful.
Not something I couldn’t resent him for.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and folded the jeans. I hadn’t tried them on, but he’d purchased the correct size. As if Haithem wouldn’t. He had a way of knowing everything, even the things I didn’t want him to know.
“You’re welcome.”
I hoped I hadn’t shivered visibly. He didn’t say things such as “you’re welcome” the way normal people did. He didn’t speak at you—he spoke to you. His voice so intimate you couldn’t block it out if you tried.
I moved on, unpacking T-shirts, shirts, jumpers, jackets, pants, skirts, dresses, bathing suits, socks, essentially everything a girl might need on a yacht. Not to mention plenty of things she didn’t—such as designer outfits I couldn’t picture myself in, even if I had somewhere to wear them. He’d organized a year’s worth of clothing.
He watched me the entire time I unpacked, not saying anything, his gaze traveling over every item I held up. I reached one of the lingerie boxes and pulled off the bow. I’d never owned lingerie that came in a box with a bow. I peeled back the tissue paper.
Bras.
Three beautiful bras, lined up one in front of the other. Black, white and pink. I checked the tags. Damn, he’d even gotten that right? I’d been putting my money on bras being the part where he slipped up. I wasn’t a standard size. Buying bras was a bitch. Yet he’d worked it out.
I looked at him, pink bra dangling from my hand.
“You left a bra hanging in the bathroom,” he said, once again using his powers of telepathy.
Of course, he’d leave nothing to chance.
“How could you even arrange all of this?” I looked around. “Who does helicopter deliveries to yachts?”
“Anything is possible, if you’re prepared to pay for it.” He got off the bed and faced me.
The bra fell back into the box. I could swear we were no longer talking about helicopter yacht delivery.
I turned away from him and reached for another packag
e. Haithem fell silent again but stood next to me. I opened the lid to a bundle of pale pink fluff.
Oh, hell yes.
A giant plush robe. I tugged out the robe, hugged it, and then pulled it on, belting it at the waist. The robe swamped me in warmth and covered me down to my ankles.
This was my favorite.
This, I could wear night and day and never take off. More fluff rested at the bottom of the box. Matching slippers. I bent down and put them on.
Haithem looked down at me, a smile taking his face from attractive to completely goddamn lickable. “You like that, huh?”
“Yeah, I like it,” I said then stood. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?” I dragged across more bags and rummaged inside, finding toiletries. “Shampoo, cosmetics, everything.”
Haithem just shrugged and crossed his arms.
One of the bags contained a hair straightener. I didn’t even own one of those at home. I tipped another long white box out of a bag of toiletries. Make that two hair straighteners. I popped open the end and slid the plastic insert out of the cardboard, then gasped, my cheeks flushing hot.
Not a hair straightener.
My gaze snapped to Haithem’s. I didn’t even have words for this. Killed the Pretty Woman experience right there, though.
Haithem looked at the item in my hands, and his eyes flared. He removed the large flesh-colored vibrator from the box with a laugh. “Well, I did ask my shopper for everything a woman might want.”
“So you didn’t ask for this, then?”
He stopped laughing and took the box from me, as well. “No.”
Of course not. Why would he give a girl one of these when he could give her...?
I grinned and snatched the vibrator from him. “Actually, I’ll hang on to this.” I let my eyelids bat softly and took the box back too, then held up the vibrator.
I shook it in front of him.
It wobbled.
Perfect.
“I’ve been getting really bored.”
His face—ohmygod—was priceless.
My palm accidentally hit a button, and the vibrator sprang to life, buzzing, wiggling and twisting. “Would you look at that? Bonus features.”