Victoria's Secret Wish

by Piper Denna

  “Yeah. Cracked you right up, huh?” She gave him a little smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll get lost in an hour or so, so you and Brett have plenty of time before dinner to make a Tori sandwich.”

  Tori sandwich? Holy hell. She knew.

  She smirked and lowered her shades.

  He suddenly needed something for a headache. Forget the ladder–he pulled himself up and out at the side of the pool, and strode inside. Someplace in his duffel, he had a bottle of ibuprofen… Dripping all over the bed in the guest room, he rummaged. “Fuck, fuck!” How did Carmyn know? Had she guessed, or did Vic tell her? This wasn’t supposed to get out. And where the hell was that bottle?

  “What’s wrong?” Vic stood in the doorway wearing her little black bikini, holding the laptop. So that was why she’d been inside.

  Screw the pain relief. He wanted answers, and turned on her. “How. Does. Carmyn. Know?”

  She stepped into the room, clutched the computer against her side. Sighed. “Oh, that. She guessed that morning we told her we were sick.” Right, because sick automatically meant having a three-way. “She came over here unannounced, to check on us, and you were in the shower. The rest, she figured out on her own.”

  He must be red; he felt hot all over. Embarrassed? Afraid. Scared to fucking death this would get out. Then what?

  “You have nothing to worry about,” she said. “Carmyn’s not going to tell anybody.”

  “Nothing to worry about?” he choked out. “You don’t get it, Vic. Swimming is all I’ve got. And if this gets out–if I lose my sponsors–then I’ve got nothing at all. So don’t tell me I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I just meant she’s trustworthy. Really. Britt and I wouldn’t want it out, either. I mean–”

  “Britt and you run a fucking sex resort. People expect this sort of thing from you. Hell, it’d probably help your business. Maybe you want it to get out.”

  She sucked in her breath, and dropped the laptop onto the bed. Her fists went to her hips. “Are you accusing me of trying to use you–this–us–to increase business?”

  Fuck, she was gorgeous, pissed. Shining green eyes, pink cheeks. Would she slap him? Was he terminally whacked in the head for wanting her to?

  “No. But I obviously have more at stake here.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe you’d better decide whether we’re worth it.”

  He should let her leave, pack his shit and split before this big secret got out. Walk away without looking back. When her right hand left her hip and went for the computer, he grabbed her arm, pulled her toward him. He shook, certain he’d live to regret this. Closed his eyes, searching. There had to be a right answer somewhere. How could this one thing outweigh the risk of losing everything else?

  “I can’t promise nobody will ever find out about us.” Her voice was soft against his neck, her hands warm on his pecs. “God knows, we have a security issue on this ship. All I can tell you is, I’d trust Carmyn with my life. But I can’t tell you what to do.” Carefully, but without hesitation, she pried his fingers from her arm then stepped back, picked up the laptop and headed out the door.

  Let her go.

  He couldn’t.

  He reached her in two steps and spun her around, backed her against the wall. Delaying the inevitable.

  It didn’t matter, with her lips under his, her tongue meeting his, her free arm around his neck hanging onto him as hard as he hung onto her.

  When they finally came up for air, she shifted the computer and brushed her finger along his lips. “Somebody’ll be looking for us soon.”

  “Probably.”

  “But before we go out there, I need to ask you…are those my underwear?”

  He let his forehead hit the wall, squeezed his eyes shut. Didn’t need to turn around to see the purple sticking out of his bag. “Yes.” He squeaked like some damn thirteen-year-old.

  She nodded, her ear brushing his neck.

  God, was she going to say anything else? Apparently not. “If you want them back–”

  “No. Keep them.”

  Sometimes, Vic understood too much.

  She hefted the laptop up. “Moment of reckoning. Britt’s demanding to read the blog.”

  The fucking blogger. One more thing for him to worry about. What if somebody ID’d him?

  For now, Vic needed his support. She was sure Britt would go through the ceiling when he read this latest installment–which they’d already seen before breakfast.

  He followed her outside, where she set up the computer and pretended to read for the first time.

  Day 5 aboard FCS did not disappoint. My 1-line summary: The couple that plays together, stays together.

  Boys and girls, I’ve got to start with the gritty gossip today. I see a high-profile celebrity divorce in our future. And you read it here first. The Grants appear to have gone their separate ways. While Sir Brett drank the day away and gambled his wife’s considerable fortune–albeit in her casino, where she’ll probably get the money back in any case–Victoria spent the day working and frequenting her old haunts–namely, Rafe Wyndham, who claims “Victoria and I have remained, and shall always be, quite close. Intimate, in fact.” Though Rafe tried to coax her into a dance during intermission at the strip-off, Victoria wasn’t quite ready to go public with their born-again relationship. And how embarrassing for her, after all–her legally-wed, meanwhile, spent the day with a certain mancandy nobody at his elbow. Who is this new boytoy friend of Brett’s?

  Gritty Gossip Girl must know.

  Another Gritty Gossip must: the new f-ing machine featured in today’s contest. This time, women–and a few adventurous men–were challenged to last as long as they could, without letting the machine bring them to climax. One chick with incredible focus managed to hold out for seven minutes…and wow. These babies have all sorts of attachments, including spankers, anal plugs, heat, and an optional “sex soundtrack.” Gritty Girl wants one baaadly. Donations accepted via PayPal. –wink, wink.

  Until tomorrow,

  G-G-Girl

  David didn’t feel any better the second time he’d read it than the first.

  “Bloody hell.” Britt stood immediately behind him. “Fucking hell. What the blue fuck is she talking about, you and that bugger Rafe?”

  “Get a handle on yourself,” Vic murmured. “You know she’s manufacturing stories.” She did a fantastic job of acting nonchalant now, considering how freaked-out she’d been earlier this morning.

  “Who does he think he is, going ’round telling tales like that?” Britt shoved the laptop closed. “I’ll have him drawn and quartered for libel. And defamation of character.”

  Mark folded his arms over his chest. “Well, he didn’t say anything concrete. And as Tori pointed out, it’s possible this blogger misquoted him, in any case.” He smirked. “Besides, the last time someone was drawn and quartered was–”

  “Oh, can it, hon.” Carmyn slapped Mark’s ass. “This has got to be drumming up future reservations. Have you checked with your staff at the Mountain?”

  Vic rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes. Reservations are up. Exponentially.”

  “Has anybody considered the possibility that it could be the captain behind the blog?” Carmyn asked. “You’ve gotta admit, he’s got a vested interest in keeping the manifest full, especially with a second alimony judgment coming up soon.”

  “It’s not Rob,” Vic said.

  “How can you be sure? I think Carmyn has a point,” Mark countered.

  “I just know.” Vic dismissed the discussion with a wave of her hand. “He’s too busy with other…interests right now, anyway.”

  “What about that reporter? Mick?” Mark suggested. The Great, Throbbing Cock. “It would definitely further his career to have a blog following like this one.”

  Britt shook his head. “We can’t do a search to rule him out, but we’re certain a female is composing these posts.”

  “What female would hate you this much? An
d why?” Mark asked. “The only person I know of who hates you is that creepy helicopter pilot.”

  Vic scoffed. “Why would Gil hate Britt?”

  “Jealousy?” Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve seen the shit looks he gives him behind his back, though. Maybe he wants Brett’s woman.”

  Carmyn doubled over laughing. “Gil…is…gay.”

  “Not entirely.” Vic turned an interesting shade of pink, but kept her chin up.

  Silence.

  And then Mark asked, “And you know this…”

  She cast him a ball-shriveling glare. “I make it my business to know my employees, just as I make it my business to know my clients.”

  Britt’s eyes narrowed on her, but he must know better than to ask what he had to be wondering–why’d she blush?

  Carmyn wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Besides, remember? Gil’s brother died in that helicopter crash with Luke. He and Tori go way back.”

  Vic gave her a little smile–of thanks?–and shook her head. “I think tonight at dinner I’ll ask Rafe who talked to him yesterday about me. We’re going to find this girl.”

  David had made it a point to lay low in this conversation, but they were missing the most obvious person. “What about this fucker Rafe?”

  Everyone looked at him, shock on their faces. Well, hell. If Britt hated the guy for being after Vic, so did he.

  “Er. I mean, if he hates you as much as you hate him…” He looked at Britt. “And it seems like the blogger only says good things about him.”

  “Honestly, I admire the guy as an actor,” Carmyn said, “but I seriously doubt he’d be able to scheme up something like this. He’s a little dense.”

  “So here we are, back to square one.” Vic shook her head.

  “Yes.” Britt took her by the shoulders and steered her toward a lounge chair. “Square one, on day six. So let’s pretend we’re on holiday, shall we?”

  * * * *

  One more try, and that’s it. David undid the knot in his tie again, and flattened the crumpled edges. He’d give it one more shot, and then if it didn’t turn out good, he’d go see if Vic could help him. Or maybe Britt. Nice of Britt to loan it to him, since his own tie was hopelessly wrinkled after being shoved around in the duffel so many times. Still, he’d almost rather stay here alone in the suite tonight than dine at the captain’s table. Almost. Staying here alone would mean missing out on precious waking hours with Vic and Britt. So he’d agreed, borrowing Britt’s tie and one of Mark’s shirts–they happened to work with his own black slacks, which Vic had sent down to have pressed.

  Over ESPN on the TV, he heard a knock, and voices in the other room. Sounded like another male and female. Either that serving couple, or Mark and Carmyn. Maybe the servers had brought his slacks. Well, the knot didn’t look too bad this time. A minor adjustment here and there… He smoothed it and stepped out into the living room. If the slacks were here, he could change out of the swim shorts and into them.

  Man and woman, for sure. Peyton the Cabana Ho, bawling like a baby, and behind her, Griffin…handing over an iPad. Whoa.

  Time to fade into the woodwork.

  Griffin turned toward him. “Oh. Hey, bro.” He looked from David to Britt and Vic. “Oh. So they’re the couple you’ve been–” Shit. “I mean…”

  The girl, Peyton, turned to him too. “Who are you?”

  “Never mind that.” Britt was all business. “If this device has been in your possession, then you’ve been sending out prohibited transmissions, in violation of your contract.”

  Vic seemed taller, standing straight in her evening gown and heels, glaring down at Peyton. And a little scary, without saying a word.

  “College student, aren’t you?” Britt asked.

  Peyton rolled her eyes. “BYU.”

  “Breaking a legal contract like this could be considered moral turpitude. Cause for expulsion from a school like that. As per page five, section B, you now owe us your fare, plus meals.”

  Her eyes got very round and she tried to lean back against Griffin, who moved away from her. “Please. It was a publicity stunt. I didn’t mean to hurt anyb–”

  Vic gave the smallest shake of her head, and the girl shut up.

  At a knock on the door, Vic opened it and let in Carmyn and Mark. “We’ve been waiting in the hall–” Carmyn looked around the room. “Oh.”

  “Griffin here discovered the Gritty Gossip Girl,” Vic said. “Found the iPad stowed under her mattress.”

  “Hi! I love your work,” Peyton said. “You were a fantastic Bond girl.”

  “Save it.” Carmyn shook her head and looked away.

  Peyton crossed her arms over her chest, looked around for Griffin, who’d moved near David. Her eyes narrowed on his legs. “Hey wait. You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?”

  Oh, shit.

  Britt stepped right in front of her. All up in her business. “You will not mention his name, nor ours, in print, interview, or video, or by any other means. Ever again. Or you’ll be slapped with a lawsuit you’ll never crawl out of. Do you understand? Not only will you be ejected from your present school, but I will personally make certain you’ll not be admitted to any other in the States. In addition to the fares, you’ll be subject to various penalties and libel suits, from Fantasies, Inc., the crown–”

  “And Carmyn and myself,” Mark added. “Brett, you should really throw the book at her. I’ve seen that contract she signed. No loopholes whatsoever on her end.”

  “On the other hand,” Britt said, “you have an opportunity for redemption. I’ll put charges on hold, pending your cooperation in the following manner. One, adhere to a self-imposed gag order regarding this cruise, any persons on this ship, or any other business endeavor of Fantasies, Inc. Two, at eight sharp tomorrow morning, submit a final blog post summarizing your experiences on this cruise, reflecting favorably on this company, myself, my wife and our marriage. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Censorship,” Peyton muttered.

  “The ship does have a brig.” Vic finally spoke. “I’m sure you’re aware that it’s real, and not for passenger fantasies. Captain Bekyros has full international authority to have you put there until we return to port, after which you could be arrested until the California authorities decide what to do with you. If you prefer. So you decide what to write. It is your blog, after all.”

  Peyton looked around the room. “Whatever.”

  “Jesus,” Griffin muttered.

  “I mean, okay. The post usually goes up at night, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “And Peyton?” Vic said. “Aside from delivering that blog post to us, you’re confined your quarters.”

  Peyton’s shoulders slumped. She nodded and turned toward the door, then looked over at Griffin, like Aren’t you coming?

  He only shook his head, beefy arms crossed over his chest. Hell, no. Go away.

  Mark opened the door and swept his hand in front of him for her to go.

  One loud sniffle, and she left, the door latching shut behind her the only sound.

  “I’ll leave in a second. Just didn’t want to leave with her, if that’s okay,” Griffin said.

  David put his hand on the bartender’s shoulder and squeezed. The poor guy looked pretty miserable. “You okay, man?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t figure out what she was up to sooner. Every night, it was like she’d turn into a pumpkin if she didn’t make it back to her room on time. Never understood why.”

  “We’re grateful you found her at all.” Vic stepped forward and shook Griffin’s hand. “Thank you. If you’d like to cruise again, or come to Fantasy Mountain, it’s on us.”

  Griffin managed a dull smile. “Thanks. Um, I think you might want to do some more checking up on Peyton, though. My gut tells me she didn’t do this on her own. For one thing, how’d she get an iPad on board? They practically did a body cavity search on us. Anything electronic got checked and put in a bag with our name at port.”<
br />
  “Do you have any ideas?” Brett asked, joining the little congregation.

  Griffin shrugged. “Nothing concrete. But I do know she’s highly motivated by money. I bet somebody was paying her to do this. Judging by what I read in her posts, somebody who doesn’t like you much.”

  “Back to that again,” Brett muttered. “We’ve a PI in Salt Lake. Perhaps we’ll see what he can dig up. Thank you.” He also shook Griffin’s hand. “You’re a fireman?”

  Griffin nodded. “Just got a promotion to lieutenant.”

  Brett smiled. “On the fast track, then. Well, should you ever grow tired of life on the outside, we could certainly use a man with your knowledge at Fantasy Mountain. Right now, our fire team consists of yearly emergency training for the security guys.”

  Griffin cringed. “That’s a pretty remote location, isn’t it? Maybe I could come do some consulting.”

  “That would be fantastic, as well,” Brett answered. “Say. Would you care to join us for dinner at the captain’s table? Honorary guest?”

  Griffin took a step back. “Sorry, but I’m not really up to it. Some down time sounds pretty good tonight.”

  Man, he really had fallen for that rotten little blogger.

  Vic nodded. “Email me directly if you’d like to come see us. We’ll make all the travel arrangements. And thanks again.”

  Griffin turned to David. “Come see me tomorrow before you leave.”

  He wasn’t sure if he could face Griffin, now that his real identity was out in the open, and the identity of the couple he’d been talking about. But maybe he’d better–it’d give him an idea whether the info was safe with Griffin. God knew it was some juicy shit to go back and share around the firehouse. He nodded. “Deal. Hang in there, huh?”

  Griffin mock-punched his biceps, then turned and walked away. Mark and Carmyn smiled at him on his way out.

  When he’d gone and the door had shut behind him, Vic said, “Nice guy. That little witch broke his heart, didn’t she?”

  “I think so,” David answered.

  “You two seem pretty tight.” Vic cocked an eyebrow at him. Damn, it was like she could see into his soul. And after he’d been such a dick to her for telling Carmyn about them, what could she be thinking?