Pleasure Boat (The Billionaire's Demands #1)

by Celeste Fairbanks

  1.

  Seagulls flew and circled around high overhead as the limo parted from the main road. Angling to the right, it reached the crest of the hill and began to slope down toward the harbor. A massive stone retaining wall loomed in the background as the city of Monte Carlo above flew further and further up. The mid-summer heat scorched the harbor town, dockside and hillside alike. Inside the limo it was cool.

  "No, Benjamin, I won't take that deal," a well-dressed man commanded into his earpiece microphone. He sat in the back seat of the limousine, a flute half-full of bubbling champagne resting complacently in his left hand. His right rested on a small wood-grained console in the middle of the seat.

  On the verge of middle-age and yet still retaining his roguishly handsome, focused look, the man waited, only for a moment, before continuing to harangue the invisible person on the other end of the line.

  Although his voice expressed action, his body remained quite relaxed and in control of itself. The man's gray designer suit and stark white shirt popping out from underneath kept their smart, crisp appearance. Only the slight, agitated bobbing of one of his polished, wooden-soled shoes reflected any tension.

  "Those consultants don't know a damn thing. It's a dog!" he barked into the receiver. "We don't let ourselves get dragged into this sort of thing. Show some discipline." Brooking no dissension, the man immediately terminated the call.

  He turned to a woman ten years his junior who sat across from him in a sharp work suit. In her lap lay a leather-bound tablet case. Thin, subtle spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose. Her hair rested pinned back in a professional bun. She meant business.

  "Anna, get in touch with Brookson immediately," he ordered, authoritative but not overly loud. "I want you to get in touch with New York." The man paused to take a sip of the champagne. "Have our holdings in the pipeline closed, but do it slowly and not all at once," he finished, leaning back and relaxing against the plush leather cushions.

  "Yes, Mr. Phillips," Anna replied, unfolding her tablet case. One of the inner flaps had an attached low-profile keyboard, and she went to work right away. Having worked for Mr. Phillips for years, she knew he was a man whose orders you obeyed immediately if you were to have any hope of keeping your employment.

  "I'll do anything you say," she thought, thinking of his charming looks and disarming personality.

  The tablet proved a little uncomfortable for her to type on from the seat. Anna crossed over one leg to provide herself with a support.

  Not at all interested in the view of the approaching harbor coming in through the tinted glass of the windows, Phillips had his thoughtful eyes set upon Anna's exposed leg. In her mid-30s, it still drew attention. She saw the look through her peripheral vision but pretended not to notice him. It turned her on when he did that.

  "Ready for your big trip, Anna?" he asked, before taking another draught from his flute.

  "Certainly, Mr. Phillips," she replied automatically. Her eyes now remained on her work. The mild hum on the limousine engine came in from up front, met only with the very light click-click of her typing.

  "I'm glad. I hope this will be a memorable trip for you." Phillips took another drink. "First time out on the High Roller. Quite exciting." Grinning, he gave her a once-over.

  Anna closed the case. "All set, sir. They're going to be dropping our interest over the course of the day." To herself, she said, "I'll get it all done for you."

  "Splendid!"

  In Monaco, the clock hands rested at roughly midday. Back in Manhattan, the day had only just begun, if at all. There would be plenty of time to edge his way out before the close of business.

  Centrifugal forces pushed them both slightly in their seats as the limo rounded a turn onto the stone quay. Further down, an assortment of spectacular vehicles lined the limited number of spots.

  Towering from on high, the tiled roofs of Monte Carlo encapsulated the harbor on all but one side. Higher still, the mountains stretched off into the distance. With the weather on top form, and such good sailing to be had, a number of the colossal slips sat empty, their boats having embarked already. Still, many remained docked.

  The limo came to a halt, and shortly afterward a car door closed up front. The dark silhouette of a security officer passed in front of the windows along the passenger side. Silently, a dark-suited arm opened the back door. The guard, sporting designer sunglasses, stood at attention beside the vehicle.

  Anna, hesitant to make the first move, looked to Phillips expectantly.

  "No, no, Anna," he held his hands up apologetically with a smile. "It's your party."

  "Thank you, Mr. Phillips," she replied evenly, replacing her eye wear with broad-lensed sunglasses. "I'll give you what you want, you dog," she thought as she determined her path out of the limo. Half-standing, she bent forward and shuffled her way across the passenger compartment and out inside the sunshine. Her tight suit, strained from her posture, clung to her ass. She made a point to face away from her employer as she passed by. Phillips studied her like a newspaper headline as she exited the limousine.

  Once outside the protection of the limo, Anna found that the sun rained down without mercy from above.

  "God, it's hot. There's no breeze!" she remarked to Phillips as he exited onto the quay.

  "Nonsense, Anna. This is wonderful!" he exclaimed, turning his view around to soak up the scene. About the harbor, he could see an assortment of princely yachts. Multiple-decked ships, ranging from the modest to the obscene, dotted the harbor.

  "Which one is it?" she asked, pressing the tablet case against her lower abdomen. Sweat glistened on the exposed tops of her breasts.

  "We're going to walk down to a shuttle, which will take us out to the High Roller. She's anchored out of the harbor."

  "Shall we get going, sir?" the guard asked, monotone and respectfully.

  "We shall. Let's go, Anna," he said to her, waving his arm in the direction of a row of smaller boats. Tied to the end of the row of boats lay a covered shelter. Underneath the canopy in the shade, a sleek motorboat rocked gently back and forth with the motion of the water.

  The sun had started to affect Anna by the time they reached it.

  "Don't worry, soon the wind will be on your face and you'll feel much better," Phillips said to her, noticing her discomfort.

  "I hope so," she said, flushed already from the heat.

  "Help her on board," Phillips ordered the guard as he hopped down into the motorboat. Anna felt pleased by his attention to her, even if it were detached.

  "Sir."

  The guard stepped down with one foot onto the boat. The other, he kept perched on the dock. Twisting his torso and leaning backward, he took Anna's hand and guided her onto the boat. With halting, awkward steps, Anna made it onto the boat, and quickly plopped herself down onto one of the padded riding seats.

  With Anna on board, the guard freed the motorboat from the dock ties. One rope came loose. Then, the other. The guard hopped aboard and took a seat silently in the rear of the boat.

  "Let's see how fast this thing can go!" Phillips said excitedly, more to himself than to the others. He turned over the ignition, and the engine exploded to life. Slowly at first, the boat pulled out of its covered slip, turning sharply to port.

  An open lane of water separated the moored vessels ahead. In between them, Phillips guided the boat at an increasing pace. Self-absorbed, he gripped the wheel tightly, gunning the engine to test it.

  "Fast boat," Anna commented. She watched and admired Phillips as he took full control of the vessel. He knew her - the boat - inside and out, it seemed. "I wish he gave me the same attentions," s
he thought.

  "Fast boat? This isn't fast."

  Their motorboat snuck out from the end of the string of boats. Ahead, in the open area of the harbor, a mammoth, six-deck yacht lay at anchorage. Emblazoned on the back were the words Booty of the Seven Seas.

  "Shit, Santiago is trying to catch up," Phillips remarked, looking back to his passengers. "Look at her! She's practically the sister ship of the High Roller!"

  "They're taking people on board," Anna shouted forward, pointing to a small vessel tied to the stern of the yacht.

  "Trying to show me up, those fuckers!" Phillips shouted with a determined voice. He threw the throttle to maximum, and the boat lurched violently forward.

  "What are you doing?" Anna screamed, not used to boats and so petrified that she forgot to address him properly.

  "Santiago tried to get me in on that semiconductor deal last year. Nearly took a bath on that!" he yelled back to her, right hand clenched in a fist held up at chest level. "I'm returning the favor, literally!" he followed up, laughing at himself.

  The motorboat flew forward, a broad wake spreading out in its train. A person standing on board the Booty saw them approaching and took notice, yelling down to comrades on the landing deck at the stern.

  The people dashed for cover, except for one man, who refused to budge. Phillips, timing it for the last moment, whipped the agile boat hard to starboard, dodging the collision and producing a prodigious wave, which crashed down upon the passengers on the stern.

  "Santiago!" he yelled back after them, roaring with laughter. He had recognized the stubborn passenger who had refused to move.

  Santiago, a muscular, olive-skinned bulldog of a man, stood dripping. His thick hand wiped water slowly and deliberately from his face.

  The motorboat, shooting across the water like a rocket, passed the harbor wall and headed out onto the open waters.

  2.

  Azure waters blurred past underneath the hull of the motorboat. Leaving Monte Carlo and its harbor behind them, the party headed toward a white-colored trapezoid perhaps a mile out from the coast.

  "Is that the yacht?" Anna asked.

  "Yes. That's her."

  "She's lovely."

  "I remember the first boat I ever purchased," Phillips boasted, ignoring the compliment from Anna. "A tramp steamer. Bought her years and years ago. I used her to plug a gap in the market. It turned into quite the money maker. Only damn boat that ever earned me any real money!"

  The motorboat continued onward at a rapid clip. Soon, the High Roller passed into clearer view. Deckhands moved around, small as ants at first but quickly becoming larger. In the far distance beyond, an ocean liner cut along the top of the horizon like a slug.

  They drew near. Phillips, adjusting the throttle, guided the motorboat alongside. Hands, knowing their duty, had already responded. Ropes lashed up, and the boat was tied in no time.

  "Let's have a drink," Phillips ordered. He stepped up out of the boat, refusing help from the hands who offered assistance.

  Anna edged to the yacht-side half of the boat, and reached up a hand to be assisted on board. The crew waiting above her were saltier than she had expected for such an elegant luxury yacht. Some young, some older, all had tanned, sea-worn faces. Tattoos and scars marked the faces and bared upper bodies of a number of them.

  They looked foreign as well, scraped up from the ports of the Mediterranean and the West African coast. The dark, hairy arm that reached out to lift up Anna had a voice.

  "Bem vindo a bordo," the man said, leering at her. Bare-chested, muscular, and just as hairy, his Portuguese jarred with the French she had been hearing for the past two days. Anna enjoyed men who looked like men and not boys. She made a point of looking him up and down.

  The other crew were crowding around her, she felt. Anna looked around, but Phillips had already ascended from the landing deck.

  "Fun time over," she told herself. "Best to keep up appearances."

  She hustled after Phillips, leaving the diverse crew to follow her with their eyes and make unintelligible dirty jokes in their broken and makeshift common tongue.

  The party had actually skipped ahead to a light luncheon - Phillips had a change of heart. After enjoying the delicious spread from the ship's galley, they retired to their cabins to change. Anna parted with her suit and tablet case, opting instead for a change into a teal sun dress.

  She liked it. At her employer's instruction, she had sent her measurements ahead, and appropriate clothing had been custom-ordered for her cabin. The dress accentuated her body's ample curves, while teasing also what it didn't reveal.

  The thought of Phillips having some role in picking out her clothes turned her on. Her body was something she wanted him to have control over.

  When she returned topside, she found Phillips alone on a shaded side deck with a low, lazy table, comfortable chairs, and chilled white wine waiting in designer stemware.

  "Take a seat, Anna," he said cheerfully to her as she walked through a large open doorway. "Drink up."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you." She sat down across from him, back to the interior of the yacht. He had changed also, and wore a more casual white short-sleeved shirt over well-fitting khakis. Approving of what she saw, Anna picked up a glass and took a sip. It was delicious.

  "It's from Australia. An under-appreciated country, if you ask me." The wind caught a lock of Anna's shoulder-length brown hair, which she had let down. Phillips noticed. "I told you the breeze would pick up out here."

  "It's lovely," she replied happily, taking another drink from the glass. Her body relaxed in the chair. "You're to die for," she thought. She felt as though they were a couple, and wished it were so.

  "Anna, how much do I pay you?" Phillips suddenly asked, calmly removing his sunglasses. "Annually." The coast bobbed up and down slowly behind him from the mild rock of the boat in the waves.

  "...Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, sir," she responded, perplexed at the question.

  "Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars per year," he echoed, staring at her. His eyes, pupils narrowed from the direct sunlight, cut into her like a laser. After a moment's wait to let those words sink in, Phillips asked, "Do you have any formal education, Anna?"

  "No, sir." She put down her glass.

  "Correct," he said, lowering his forearms onto the edge of the table. "The reason I hired you in the first place is because you are intelligent and capable. Credentials are not important."

  "Thank you, Mr. Phillips," she answered, her tone guarded.

  "Why then, does a woman with your understanding and your abilities, and who I am sure knows me so well as you do, steal from me?"

  The conclusion to his words cut Anna to the quick. She froze.

  "Two million dollars is a lot of money by anyone's measure, don't you agree?" he questioned her rhetorically. Phillips played absent-mindedly with the sunglasses in his hands.

  Anna looked down, incapable of bluffing her way out of the accusation. "Yes, it is, sir," she said, struggling. Her eyes remained locked on the tablecloth in front of her.

  "Well, I'm certainly glad we can see eye to eye on that," he said, studying her face like a hawk. "I see from your expression you are curious as to how we discovered your theft. In light of everything, I hope you will understand if I don't reveal that. Suffice it to say," he continued, eying her up, "we've been watching you for some time."

  Anna nodded, head still facing down. Her fantasy had crashed, flaming into the sea, in those few words. He had caught her.

  "I've seen your emails, Anna. They're bursting with self-assurance. You're not an innocent little lamb who got caught up in a bad decision. This was your scheme, and you've been playing me for a fool." He let the words sink in. "The question now, Anna, becomes 'What will we do about your little foray into embezzlement?'"

  She glanced up, nervous. Her eyes scanned the deck, the guards, the crew, and the distant shore far behind them.

  Phillips laughed, his
teeth bared. "I'm no James Bond villain, Anna. We're not going to feed you to the sharks. In fact, you're in danger of no harm whatsoever."

  Anna perked up but said nothing.

  "And don't worry about the authorities. I have no interest in getting them involved. It would be tedious. They'd take forever to leave me alone. They'd clog up the office. I can't afford that."

  "What, then?" she asked, coolly, wondering where this was going. "I assume you brought me out here for something."

  "You see, I knew you were clever!" Phillips clapped his hands together indulgently. "My clever darling, there is a catch. I have to do something. The question is, how do I go about it?"

  "So, how?"

  Phillips leaned forward onto the table, lowering his voice to a more intimate level. He smiled.

  "I'm going to give you a choice. Just a simple choice, Anna."

  "A choice?"

  "That's right. Let's start with the first option. You walk free today, unemployed. Marco here drives you on the boat back to the harbor," he said, gesturing subtly at one of the guards standing nearby but out of direct earshot. "The money you stole is returned to me immediately. It's gone, as is your salary after today. No calls to the police, no strings attached. You'd be free to go about your business."

  Anna hesitated. She knew better than to walk into the trap Phillips had set for her. She did anyway.

  "What's the other option?"

  "Follow me."

  3.

  "When running a business - any business - the most important thing for an executive is to have control of his employees. Especially those employees closest to him," Phillips lectured as they walked down a side passage toward the bow of the yacht.

  "Really, Anna, it speaks poorly of me if I cannot maintain that control. I would have it restored, if at all possible. Which is why I've developed a proposal for you. 'Option number two' you might call it."

  "Tell me what it is, then," Anna half-complained as she followed from behind.

  "We'll get to that, but first, the rules. My proposal is for you to complete a series of challenges, starting with one this afternoon." Phillips slowed down to allow Anna to come alongside him. "All of these challenges will test your ability to take my orders. Upon satisfactory completion of those challenges, you can depart the boat with the money and even keep your job - if you wish to keep it, of course."