Elsa
“Breathe,” I hear someone saying, as if through a wall. “Breathe, Elsa. Can you hear me?” The voice is growing clearer by the moment.
I feel my stomach cramping and I throw up, coughing and spitting out something salty.
“Thank God! Can you hear me, bella?” Marcello asks, stroking my hair.
I manage to open my eyes and see him, hovering above me, soaking wet. He has his clothes on but had lost the shoes. I watch him, unable to say anything. There is a roar in my head and the sun is blinding me. Fausto passes us a towel and Marcello wraps me in it and takes me in his arms. He carries me across the yacht, through all the decks, until we reach a bedroom, where he puts me down. I am still in shock, utterly clueless about what has happened. Marcello is drying my hair, looking at me with eyes filled with worry and anger in equal measure.
“What happened?” I croak.
“You fell from the deck. Thank God we weren’t going faster and that you fell to the side of the boat. Still, you nearly drowned.” Marcello kneels by the bed. “Goddamn it, Elsa, I feel like killing you myself now. At the same time, I’m so happy you’re alive.”
I touch his cheek.
“You saved me?”
“You were lucky I was close. I don’t even want to think what would have happened otherwise. Why are you being so stubborn? Why don’t you listen to me?” He sighs.
The alcohol is still buzzing in my head, and I can taste the salt water in my mouth.
“I’d like to take a shower now,” I mutter, and try to push myself up.
Marcello doesn’t let me. He grabs me by the shoulder delicately.
“I can’t allow you to do it by yourself. Just five minutes ago you weren’t even breathing. If you need it so badly, I’ll wash you.”
I shoot him a glance, exhausted, unable to refuse. Besides, he has already seen me naked. And even gone beyond touching. I nod slightly. For a moment, Marcello leaves, but when he reappears, I can hear water running in the bathroom.
He takes off his wet shirt, pants, and boxers. In normal circumstances that view would have worked me up, but not this time. Marcello takes the towel I am rolled up in and gently takes my top off, seemingly untouched by what he is seeing. He unbuttons my shorts, discovering that I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“You don’t have your panties on?”
“How astute of you.” I smile. “I didn’t think we’d see each other.”
“How does that help?” His stare grows ice-cold. I decide to leave it at that.
He takes me in his arms and carries me to the bathroom, just a couple of feet from the bed. A huge bathtub stands by the wall, partially filled with water now. Marcello steps in, sits down, and leans back, turning me around and setting me down between his legs with my head resting on his chest. First, he washes my body, not skipping a spot, and then goes on to my hair. I am always surprised at how delicate he can be. In the end, he takes me out of the tub, covers me with a towel, and carries me back to the bed. With a button on a remote control, he makes the shutters roll down the windows, shading the room. I immediately fall asleep.
I wake up terrified, gasping for air, panicking. Where am I? It takes me a while to recall the events of the previous day. I get out of bed and turn the light on, revealing the impressive cabin. White, rounded sofas in the living room perfectly complement the black floor. The interior is minimalistic and very masculine. Even the flowers in their vases perched on top of bright columns seem somehow masculine.
Where is Marcello? Has he left me again? I put on a bathrobe over naked skin and go to the door. The corridors are wide and well lit. I have no idea where I am going. That’s what you get when you choose champagne over a tour of the yacht. The thought of alcohol makes me wince. Finally, taking the steps up, I reach the deck I remember. Despite only learning about what happened from Marcello’s story, I feel afraid. The deck is empty and dark-the glass floor is only illuminated by faint beams of light coming from the sparsely positioned floor lamps. I head toward the semiroofed lounge, cross it, and reach the bow.
“Sleep well?” I hear a voice from the darkness. I scan my surroundings and there he is, sitting in the Jacuzzi with both hands resting on the edge of the tub.
“I can see you’re feeling better. Care to join me?”
He tilts his head from side to side, as if trying to relax his neck muscles. Keeping his eyes on me, he takes a sip of the amber liquor from his glass.
The Sapphire is anchored, and I can see the lights of land in the distance. The calm waves are gently sloshing against the side of the yacht.
“Where is everybody?” I ask.
“Where they are supposed to be, which is somewhere else,” Marcello says, and puts the glass down. “Are you waiting for another invitation, Elsa?”
His voice is serious, and his eyes reflect the light of the lamps illuminating the deck. Looking at him, I realize how much I have been missing him for the past few days.
I reach for the belt of the bathrobe, pull at it, and allowed the robe to fall to the floor. Marcello watches in rapt attention, his jaw working rhythmically. Slowly I walked toward him and slide into the water, taking a place opposite him.
I look at him as he took another sip. He is so lovely when he is trying to hold himself back.
I move closer and sit on his knees, pressing myself against him. Without asking for consent, I run my hand through his hair. He moans softly and leans his head back, closing his eyes. I stare at him for an instant before leaning closer and biting his lip gently. He grows harder beneath me. I sway my hips delicately, sucking on his lips, trailing my teeth along them, until I slide my tongue into his mouth. He drops his hands, grabbing my ass, pulling me closer.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper, pulling away for a moment.
He pushes me back and shoots me a wide-eyed stare.
“Is that how you show your longing for me? By doing the absolute opposite of what you know I want you to do? If this is how you want to appreciate me for saving your life, I am not going to accept it.”
That hurts me. I push even farther away and jumped out of the Jacuzzi, then grab my bathrobe and throw it over my shoulders, suddenly ashamed. I want to cry. I need to be as far away from him as I can.
I run back down the stairs and immediately got lost in the labyrinth of passageways. All doors look the same. Thinking I have found the right one, I grab the handle and entered a berth. Trailing my hand along the wall, I look for the light switch, finally realizing this is not the place I have been looking for. The door behind me closes and I hear the click of the lock. The lights grow dimmer and I freeze, afraid to turn around, though I know he wouldn’t hurt me.