The helicopter began to descend about ten miles off the coast of Atlantic City. Over the intercom, the pilot said that they would be touching down on the Scalded momentarily. Aurora wondered briefly what the Scalded was until the chopper banked right and she was able to see exactly what it was.
A superyacht was moored directly below them. The vessel was easily five-hundred feet long with multiple gleaming white decks, although it appeared that the hull below the waterline was dark red. The vessel featured a helipad, hot-tub, and lap pool. There was a large open hatch on one side of the craft, through which Aurora glimpsed a smaller boat and jet skis. The word Scalded was visible in two-meter high golden letters on the rear and sides of the massive private yacht.
The helicopter touched lightly down on the deck of the ship, a valet coming forward to guide Aurora out of the craft and direct her toward a set of stairs.
Aurora descended the steps that led to a large open deck below the helipad. All around her she could see choppy waves, but the deck beneath her feet felt motionless. The feeling was slightly disorienting.
Aurora walked up to the railing that overlooked the decks below. Each lower deck extended out further along the vessel than the deck above, so that from her vantage point she could see right down to the rear of the yacht where the lap pool glittered in the dying rays of the sun.
There was a soft cough and Aurora turned, half-expecting to find Mr. Hawthorne standing there. However, it was the beautiful Asian woman that Aurora had seen that morning at the penthouse. The same woman who had brought her the small wooden puzzle box.
“Oh hi,” Aurora said, giving the woman a hesitant smile. Her skin was flawless and there was not a strand of black hair that was out of place. Her eyes were deep and cold.
“Follow me, please,” the woman said, cutting off Aurora. She moved briskly to another staircase then through a set of sliding doors.
“Alright, this is…this is something, isn’t it?” Aurora said, astounded.
They had entered a large salon with a panoramic view of the ocean and the twinkling lights of the New Jersey coastline. The room’s furnishings were just as incredible as the view. Custom crafted sofas encircled a freestanding fireplace in the middle of the room, flanked by an enormous breakfast table with eight chairs and, in the corner, a white grand piano.
Her beautiful guide did not respond. Instead she moved quickly down a corridor lined with windows on one side and art on the other. They walked in complete silence, their footfalls muffled by the thick red carpet.
“I’m Aurora; what’s your name?” she asked hesitantly.
The woman did not reply. Aurora had the feeling that if she were to fall overboard this ice-queen would use a boathook to stab her to death instead of pulling her back onto the yacht.
After a minute her guide stopped outside of a door
“These are your quarters, Miss Laurent,” she said.
”I’m sorry,” blurted Aurora in frustration. “I seem to have offended you somehow. I don’t even know what to call you.”
The Asian stunner ran her cool, dark eyes over Aurora, giving her the uncomfortable feeling of being mentally strip-searched. Then the woman said, “I am the head of Mr. Hawthorne’s personal security. If you must address me, call me Miss Fang.”
Aurora looked the lithe and athletic figure up and down in disbelief.
“You?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I mean – he needs a security detail?”
“No - just the one person,” the woman replied.
She gave Aurora a chilly smile then said, “Mr. Hawthorne expects you for dinner on the upper deck – the one directly above this, by the hot-tub.” She looked pointedly at Aurora’s clothes. “I expect you’d like to change.”
“I didn’t bring any–”
“There are clothes in the closets and the bathroom is stocked with everything that you will need. You have fifteen minutes. Mr. Hawthorne does not like to be kept waiting.”
Without another word, she stalked off down the hallway, moving with a predatory grace that Aurora couldn’t help but envy. Sighing, Aurora turned to inspect her accommodations.
This room was about twice the size of her apartment in Brooklyn. The last gleaming rays of sunset filled the space, courtesy of a large circular skylight positioned above the king-size bed. She was bowled over by the luxury of her new living quarters. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before in her life.
You’re not in Nebraska anymore, she breathed, walking around the head of the bed and into a very large closet. She ran her hands along the shelves stocked with gorgeous new designer clothing that she could never have dreamed of affording. Her fingers traced the racks of dresses in greens and blues and reds and blacks. She pulled one out and checked the size: six.
That sly bastard, that inner voice thought, but with a grudging respect.
The thought of Hawthorne reminded her that she only had fifteen minutes until meeting him for dinner, so she selected a shimmering grey dress the color of the ocean and walked into the bathroom to check her makeup.
She actually laughed with delight as she opened the door to the en-suite. Directly in front of her was a wall made entirely of glass that looked out to sea. Next to the window was the most gorgeous sunken tub that Aurora had ever seen. It was tiled in marble, with golden taps and massage jets. Aurora groaned at the thought of filling it, slipping into it and getting lost in that endless view.
You better get your head in the game, otherwise all this will be gone before you’ve even had the chance to take that bath for a test soak. You can’t be late for your first meeting with your boss.
“Alright,” Aurora said, looking at herself in the mirror. “Time to finally make a good impression on Mr. Hawthorne.
***
She emerged onto the upper deck thirteen minutes later to find Finn Hawthorne waiting for her at one end of a long glass dining table that had been laid for two. He was studying a report as she arrived, but quickly put it aside and got to his feet when he saw her. Aurora concentrated on not falling in the new heels that she had found in her closet. Turning her ankle on day one would be just the sort of thing that would happen to her.
The western horizon was a glowing band of orange fading to lilac, darkening to deep purple at the zenith. A few stars were out already.
“I hope you don’t mind dining al fresco tonight? I’ve had the heaters turned on so we shouldn’t get cold.”
“Um, not at all,” Aurora said.
Hawthorne was wearing a pair of casual linen pants and a wrinkled baby blue linen shirt with the top two buttons undone. Vaguely, she wondered how he managed to still look so put together while basically wearing pajamas.
“Beautiful,” he said, warmly, indicating the dress that Aurora had chosen. “The same color as the sea.”
“That’s what I thought!” Aurora said. “And it was very clever how everything was in my size. I wonder how you knew that…”
She sat down, assisted by her boss, who offered her a glass of rosé.
As if on cue, a handful of uniformed staff appeared bearing trays and plates of food.
“I’m sorry, but I went a little wild with dinner tonight,” Hawthorne said. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I had the kitchen prepare a bit of everything. I hope that’s okay?”
“I’m sure you know your business,” she said, smiling at the thought of the microwave lasagne she would have been enjoying at home.
Luckily, the noise of food service masked the sound of Aurora’s growling stomach. Realizing that she hadn’t eaten since she was at Harper’s, it was all she could do not to pounce on the clam linguine and the lobster with béchamel.
“So,” Aurora said, when the staff had melted into the background, “this is one of your ‘other residences’ is it?”
In deference to her host she was making polite chit-chat, waiting for Hawthorne to serve himself before diving into the nearest dish.
“Yes. I guess you could cal
l this my floating home away from home. Being out herein the cool waters of the Atlantic seems to soothe my soul somehow.”
“So, where exactly are we?” Aurora asked, taking a sip of wine. It was absolutely delicious; sweet and smooth. “And where are we off to in this – would you call this floating mansion a boat?”
Oh my God, is that crab in butter sauce I spy over there? Aurora’s subconscious broke in. I’m going to count to five Mississippis and then that plate is mine!
Mr. Hawthorne laughed. “It is large, isn’t it? But, I assure you, like everything I own, it has its purpose. We’re currently sitting about ten miles off of Atlantic City and the plan is to simply cruise around this location. I’m afraid we’re not off anywhere exotic just yet. I have a lot of business in New York to take care of. We’ll be anchoring here for the night.”
There was an all too familiar buzzing sound from inside the small clutch that Aurora had placed on the chair next to her. Her goddamn phone was going off again.
With an apologetic smile, Aurora quickly pulled it out and glanced at the message. It was from Brodie.
Babe I miss you. I’m willing to forgive you, babe. Let’s hang out. B xx
He forgives me? He sends my nude photos to his entire address book, and he forgives me! Where the fuck does he get off?
Clearly, Aurora’s thunderous mood was etched all over her face, because Hawthorne said, “If you like, I can arrange a room for you to make a call or do whatever it is you need to do? You could step into the salon if you need to?”
Aurora swallowed the sudden rage that had swept through her, put her phone back into her bag and tried to smile at the man across from her.
Fuck Brodie, she thought. Look where you are, look at this spread! Enjoy yourself. Forget that numbnuts.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said, “it was just an old–”
“Flame?”
“Mistake is probably a better word,” Aurora said.
She looked down at the food, suddenly not just famished but hangry too.
Glaring at one half of the lobster, she grabbed it and ripped its claw off with her bare hands. Then she pulled out a chunk of meat, dipped into the butter sauce and popped it into her mouth.
“Holy hell, that’s good!” she said, involuntarily sinking back into her seat and closing her eyes. The garlic butter sauce was rich and the lobster meat unbelievably sweet. It was by far the tastiest food that she had sunk her teeth into in a long, long time.
Hawthorne chuckled at the sight of her. “That good, huh?”
“Oh yeah. Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not a billionaire,” Aurora said, taking another sip of wine and reaching for the tongs so that she could sample the clam linguine. “If I had this sort of food all the time, I’d be the size of this boat before you know it.”
Hawthorne smiled. “I think you’ll find that it’s like anything; after a while it becomes normal and you just end up having toast for breakfast and spaghetti for dinner.”
Aurora twirled up a forkful of the pasta. “I just can’t imagine that,” she said through a mouthful of food.
Hawthorne took some salad and uncovered another plate revealing a few steaks cooked rare. He removed one and put it on his plate.
Aurora gestured at the bloody piece of meat. “You’re one of those guys who just likes to show his steak the grill, huh?”
“That’s about it. Just a quick scorching on each side does it for me,” replied her host. “I’m gratified that you’re enjoying the food; I’ll make sure to pass it along to the chef. He takes great pride in cooking for my guests and staff. Speaking of which, if there is anything you want you just need to dial down to the kitchen and there will always be someone available to cook it for you.”
Aurora swallowed the forkful of salad, dabbed at her lips with a crisp napkin and said, “Speaking of staff, Mr. Hawthorne –”
“Please, call me Finn,” Hawthorne said.
“How about I call you ‘boss’?” Aurora said, kindly. “I have to feel that I’m not just taking advantage of you; that I’m fulfilling some sort of role.”
Hawthorne took a bite of steak and looked at her appraisingly. “You have pride, Miss Laurent.”
“Sometimes, that’s all we have,” Aurora replied, evenly.
“Well said.”
“So, with that in mind,” Aurora said, “can we just shuck the corn and you tell me exactly what I’m doing here, what I am being hired to do?”
“I thought you might want to finish dinner before we dive into the nitty-gritty?” Hawthorne said. “Or, at least, finish your mouthful.”
Aurora, who had just taken a huge bite of a braised lamb chop, tried to stifle a grin. She swallowed and said, “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I could sit here and eat this entire feast, but I’m fairly certain that I’ve already eaten three times what I’d usually eat for dinner. There’d be nothing I’d enjoy more than reading a few more of these lobsters their last rites, but I’m also anxious to discover what this mysterious job entails.”
There was the muted rumble of an engine from below and the hatch to the superyacht’s tender garage opened on the side of the vessel.
“Ah, it would seem that now would actually be the perfect time for me to show you what this job of yours will entail,” Hawthorne said, pointing down to the side of the boat.
Aurora looked down and saw that Miss Fang, along with ten crew members in matching white uniforms, was standing at the controls of a large speedboat. As she watched, the speedboat cleared the giant garage door, Hawthorne’s head of security hit the throttle, and the boat took off leaving only a white wake behind it. With a dull whirring noise, the giant garage door closed.
Apprehension flooded Aurora’s stomach. It was just herself and Mr. Hawthorne on a yacht the size of a small hotel.
Is this the part where he kills me and turns me into some sort of ornament? Aurora thought. Without thinking, she drained her wine glass in one long gulp.
“If you’re sure that you’re done eating,” her new boss said to her, “then I can show you what your new duties will require.”
He got to his feet, and Aurora realized that he was barefoot. The anxiety that had been bubbling inside of her subsided somewhat. Hawthorne did not look like a psychotic serial-murderer. He didn’t feel like one. He looked like a man who was at complete ease in his home.
“Okay,” Aurora said, “lead the way, boss.”
Hawthorne moved into the main salon with its fireplace and grand piano, through a series of corridors and into a tiny room in which there was only a single elevator. Hawthorne pressed the button and the doors to the elevator opened immediately. He gestured for Aurora to get in, stepping into the cramped space after her.
Aurora was very aware of Hawthorne’s smell in the tight confines of the elevator. The man’s aftershave was a blend of cedar and something else. Something that reminded of her of cold winter evenings, of walking home when she lived in Nebraska, of the smell of the fields and wood smoke on the clean, cold air.
The doors opened and Aurora blinked. Maybe she shouldn’t have sunk that last glass of wine quite so quickly.
They emerged into another small chamber which was quite unremarkable except for one thing: the huge vault-like door that was embedded into one wall.
“Is this where you hide your treasure?” Auroras asked, only half kidding.
“Not quite,” Hawthorne said, “although we are in the bowels of the ship, in a special chamber not far from the engine room. A very important room accessible only by that elevator. And this door is by far the most important door on this vessel.”
There was a small keyboard set into the wall next to the mammoth door and Hawthorne stepped up to it and typed a password.
G-U-M-B-A-L-L
“Gumball?” Aurora said aloud. That had been her father’s pet name for her as a child.
“It’s a password that you’ll be able to remember?” Hawthorne asked.
“Yes.”
�
��Excellent. Only you and I know the password to this particular room.”
He pressed a button next to the door, a button that was so small and ordinary that Aurora found it quite incongruous. A door like this – made of solid metal, with steel bolts as thick as her wrist – should’ve had some sort of elaborate red, flashing button surely.
The massive door swung open, revealing that it was about two feet thick. Inside it revealed a room that was –
“Empty,” Aurora said, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.
“For now,” Hawthorne said.
After Aurora had gotten over the anticlimactic shock of the room, her eyes started to pick up on the details. There were a series of heavy chains hanging from the blank steel walls, at different heights, some of them with collars and manacles attached to the ends of them. There was also a large drain in the floor from which the sound of gurgling water could be heard. Along the ceiling were a series of bright red pipes that crisscrossed and then angled down into the room, each one ending with an industrial-looking nozzle.
Aurora was absolutely clueless as to the purpose of the room, but the sight of the chains sent nervous little butterflies fluttering about inside her stomach.
I’m surprised anything can fit in there, what with all the lobster, that secret, calm part of her said.
“Look, Mr. Hawthorne, I’m not sure what the hell goes on in here, or what you expect me to do in here with you, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure: I am not going in there.”
Arousing a Dragon Page 7