“Yes, I need this energy on my fleet.” He gestures to Christopher, who is laughing out loud. He shakes a cocktail shaker for three women. His arm and stomach muscles are flexing as he shakes it. The women are all smiling goofily as they watch.
“That’s a whole lot of energy right there,” I agree.
“If you’re all like him, it’s going to be amazing.”
I laugh. “There is nobody like him, Mr. Escott. He’s in a league of his own.”
I smile as I watch my beautiful man. I’m not even joking-he really is. Every night I watch him work the crowd and fall a little bit more in love with him. I don’t feel one ounce of jealousy over the way he is.
He is who he is.
He isn’t sleazy or flirty; he’s playful and fun, and he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world.
And to him, I am.
Christopher comes back over. “Can you go and ask the others if they’re in?”
“Okay.” I smile.
“I’ll wait here for you,” Mr. Escott says.
“When would you want us to start?” I call over the loud music.
“Monday.”
“Oh.” I frown. “That soon?”
“Yes, we have had an entire crew for a charter trip come down with the chicken pox. It’s next week, or unfortunately I won’t be able to offer all of you a position.”
“Okay. I’ll go find out.” I take off through the crowd to find our friends.
Ten minutes later I return. “We’re in.” I smile to Mr. Escott.
“Great.” He hands me a business card. “Call me when you get to Mykonos.”
“Okay.” I put his card in my pocket.
“Ten minutes till break, Grumps?” Christopher yells over the music.
I glance at my watch. “Yeah, okay.”
We always take our tea breaks together.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Escott. See you next week.”
“I look forward to it.”
I take off through the crowd. I have a lot to do.
Twelve minutes later, I walk out into the back area and down the corridor. As I walk past a storeroom door, I’m yanked inside and pushed up against the wall as the door is slammed shut. Christopher’s lips drop to my neck as his hands lift my French maid skirt. “I know what I want for tea.”
This man and what he does to me . . . the deviant of all deviants.
Loving him has changed my life. He’s shown me a better version of myself.
A spontaneous, sexy version, and I like her a lot.
I giggle as I lift my leg and put it on a shelf. His hand slides over my suspender belt and up my thigh.
“The barmen at this establishment are always so helpful.” I smile against his lips.
“Happy to be of service.” He pushes my panties to the side and slides his fingers through the lips of my sex as he kisses me deeply. “My bad girl is ready.” He spins me around and bends me over. I hear his zipper right before he slides in deep.
My eyes flutter closed as we both moan in pleasure. He pulls out and slams back in. “I love this fucking job.”
Monday morning
Greece
CHRISTOPHER
We stand on the dock at the Mykonos marina as we wait. The luxury yachts are lined up.
“What the fuck do we know about boating?” Basil sighs as we watch all the crews on the yachts. “There seems to be a lot of shit to do.”
“I hope our uniforms are cute.” Kimberly smiles as she looks out.
“Can’t be worse than our last fucking uniform.” Basil frowns. “I should have just worked with a piece of meat strapped to my chest.”
“Those women did love you, Baz.” Hayden laughs.
Baz curls his lip in disgust.
A guy walks toward us. He’s very serious looking and wearing white shorts and a white short-sleeve button-up shirt. It has gold buttons and navy-blue straps over the shoulders. He’s got a formal captain hat on. “He looks like a pilot,” Bernadette whispers.
“Please be on our boat,” Kimberly says softly as her eyes linger on him.
“Yacht,” I correct her. “It isn’t a boat.”
“Please be on our yacht . . . and in my room,” she continues.
We all chuckle, and he reaches us. “Hello, I’m Captain Mark, the skipper. I’m assuming one of you is Hayden?”
“Yes, that’s me.” She smiles as she shakes his hand. Hayden always seems to be the point of contact for our jobs. She introduces us. “These are the others, Christo, Basil, Bodie, Kimberly, and Bernadette.”
“Hi.” He smiles. “Welcome.” He turns and walks down the dock, and we all follow. “You come with a very high recommendation,” he continues.
We all exchange glances. Nobody except me has even been on a yacht before.
Not that I can even admit to it.
“We’re very excited.” Hayden smiles as she tries to be friendly.
“Thank you so much for stepping up and helping. My entire crew has fallen ill and can’t work for another two weeks. We had charters booked all week, so you’ve saved the day.”
We all exchange looks again, and Hayden rolls her lips to hide her smile. This could be a real fucking disaster.
“There she is.” Captain Mark smiles. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
We all look up and stop still as the blood drains from our faces.
“Yes.” Everyone fakes a smile.
Oh no.
This isn’t a yacht; it’s a superyacht. Four stories high and at least 160 feet long. It’s black and sleek and . . . fuck.
How in the hell are we supposed to man this vessel? We have no fucking idea what we’re doing.
Oh . . . shit. I feel myself get hot under the collar.
OBSIDIAN.
That name . . . I frown. It’s familiar.
Obsidian . . . how do I know this yacht? I troll my mind for a memory of some sort.
“Is it always moored here?” I ask as I act casual.
“No, it’s usually in Monte Carlo.”
“Right.” I watch the Grand Prix from our yacht in Monte Carlo every year. Let’s hope it’s just from there.
Hayden’s scared eyes flick over to meet mine. “What the hell?” she whispers.
“It’s fine,” I mouth.
This is anything but fine. This is a living nightmare.
We walk across the bridge and onto the yacht, and over-the-top luxury hits us in the face.
A huge deck with a spa and plunge pool, an outdoor lounge area, bar-everything is the most beautiful wood and finished to perfection. I look around. Hmm . . . not bad.
We glance through the double doors into the inside. A huge luxurious living area with plush furnishings. An elevator and stairs going up and down are to the right, as well as a large corridor.
“Wow,” everyone whispers in awe as they look around.
“Come, and I’ll show you to the servants’ quarters belowdecks. We need to get ready. The owner is boarding tonight with a group of his friends.”
“Who owns this vessel?” I ask.
“Julian Masters,” he replies.
Fuck.
“Where’s he from?” I ask as I act dumb.
“The United Kingdom. Loaded, as you can tell. Old family money . . . but he’s a judge. He has his extended family from Australia over here for a bachelor party.”
The blood drains from my face. I know them. I know them all.
Julian Masters is one of my brother Jameson’s best friends. They went to boarding school together.
I’m totally fucked.