5
2372 Words
I was asleep on the bottom level when I heard voices.
“Mr. Beaufort will be here this afternoon,” someone said from above. “Prepare the ship for departure.”
My vacation was over.
I wasn’t sure if I was sleeping in a bed that would be occupied, so I remade it as well as I could before I changed into a bikini that made my t**s look like deviled eggs on a serving platter. I grabbed a sun hat as well, looking the part. Then I hid away in one of the closets and waited.
When high-pitched voices and laughter came from the top of the ship, I knew the girls had arrived. f**k buddies for Cauldron. I remained in my hiding place. Several hours later, the engine roared, and the ship finally pulled away from the dock. I came out of my hiding place, strutting around the ship in heels and my bikini, and not a single member of the staff gave me a second look.
Too easy.
When I made it to the top deck, I looked over the edge, seeing Cap-Ferrat in the distance, the turquoise water as beautiful as it was in pictures. Other yachts were in sight, other billionaires enjoying their summer vacations. My time with Grave had taught me that most rich men were evil, and you had to be evil to be that rich.
I looked to the seating area, seeing Cauldron shirtless in his shorts, his back to me. One arm was sprawled out over the cushions, while the other held a phone to his ear. He spoke quickly to someone, but I couldn’t make out the exact details of what he said.
I walked right behind him and entered the hallway where the rooms were tucked away.
There was an expansive room with a desk and a seating area, as well as a formal living room with a large screen in front, probably where he held his virtual meetings. It was exactly what I was looking for, so I took a seat, crossed my legs, and waited.
The door opened, and one of his staff walked inside. His eyes immediately widened at the sight of me. “No one is allowed in Mr. Beaufort’s office.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked, still seated on the couch.
“I—I have to set up his meeting.”
“Tell him Ambrosia wants him to f**k her across his desk first.”
Stunned by what I said, he stood there for another moment before he departed.
It only took a moment for Cauldron to take the bait. He locked the door behind him then strode into the office shirtless and barefoot. His hard body was covered with tanned skin, a beautiful color that complemented that dark hair and those even darker eyes. He might be one of the richest men, but he was also the most foolish, because he didn’t recognize me whatsoever. He clearly didn’t know the name Ambrosia either, but he probably didn’t know any of the girls’ names, so he didn’t bat an eye over it. I was just another woman in heels and a bikini, there to service him on the seas.
He sat beside me, his arm moving over the back of the couch, while his other hand reached for the string of my bottoms at my hip. It all happened so fast, without a kiss or a touch, straight down to business.
“Whoa, buddy.” I pushed his thick arm away before he could pull my panties free.
This man had never been told no, clearly, because his expression turned volcanic.
“I want to talk—and that’s what we’re going to do.”
His coffee-colored eyes shifted back and forth between mine, his mind processing all the details that his hard d**k had previously ignored. When the hardness of his jaw set in and the spite in his eyes settled, I knew he realized exactly who I was.
He left the couch and headed straight for his desk. His hand reached in and withdrew a pistol that was tucked underneath. He c****d it and aimed it right at my face, slowly drawing near, keeping the barrel trained between my eyes. “You seem to have a death wish.”
“And you seem to have a poor memory.”
He dropped the aim to my heart and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The chamber was empty.
“Wow. You really are an asshole.”
He opened the chamber and saw with his own eyes that it really was empty. Furious, he walked back to his desk to retrieve the bullets from his top drawer.
“Don’t bother. Got those too.”
He slammed the drawer shut. “Then I’ll just kill you with my bare hands.” The moment he looked up, he steadied—because a shotgun was aimed right at his chest.
I smiled, holding the butt of the gun against my shoulder as my mother had taught me. Her father had been a hunter, so I grew up around all kinds of guns. Which was definitely coming in handy right now.
The anger on his face was still present, but his eyes were eerily calm. He hadn’t thought twice about trying to shoot me, so he’d gambled away any mercy he would have received otherwise. He didn’t raise his hands in surrender, just stood there as the long barrel pressed against his bare flesh. His breaths weren’t even deep. I’d be able to feel them if they were.
“Sit.”
The intensity of his eyes deepened, his stare locked on my face.
“Don’t test me. I don’t have a lot of patience for a man who wouldn’t hesitate to murder me.” I shoved the barrel into his chest to get him moving.
He took his time walking to the couch, his muscled back rippling with strength. He must have a gym somewhere on board and didn’t let his little friends distract him from hitting the weights.
He relaxed against the back of the couch, hands resting comfortably on his thighs, his eyes defiant.
I took the seat beside him, the gun still trained on his chest.
A long stretch of silence ensued, his eyes glued to mine, watching me with a mix of pure loathing and displeasure, along with a splash of respect. A shotgun was aimed right at his chest, but he breathed normally, not the least bit unnerved by the situation.
“I’ve been living on your yacht for the past week. Found all the guns and tossed the ammo overboard. Except this one, of course.”
He continued to stare, hardly blinking. “You wanted my attention, and now you have it. Let’s get this over with.” He sat forward slightly, his arms moving to his knees.
I tightened my grip on the gun, unsure if it was a ploy to steal the weapon.
He smirked, aware that he’d spooked me. “I could take that gun at any time.”
“Then why don’t you?”
The stare lasted an eternity, sandpaper against my skin, intrusive as it penetrated well past the surface. “Because you’re the first to best me—so you’ve earned a few moments of my time.”
My grip didn’t loosen on the gun, but the stitch in my chest released.
“Tell me what you want. My patience is limited.”
I finally had the undivided attention of the only man who could save my ass. I didn’t say anything for a moment, treasuring the victory after so many weeks of climbing over walls and dealing with a bitchy butler on a power trip.
“I was told that we have a common enemy. Thought we could work together to take him down.”
His eyebrows furrowed at first, his handsome face even more focused than before. Then the smirk came, subtle and hardly noticeable. “You think breaking in to my yacht and finding my guns makes you an assassin?”
“You even admitted I bested you.”
“Because you’re half naked,” he said coldly. “Bravo.”
I glared at him. “I could blow out your brains right now, so I deserve more credit than that—”
He snatched the gun out of my hand so fast I couldn’t keep a hold of it. Then he disassembled it in less than five seconds, taking it apart piece by piece, breaking it down until it was in three separate parts on the coffee table. His arms returned to his knees, and he stared at me, his eyes ice-cold. “Whoever your enemy is, I’m not interested. Are we done?”
“Bones told me you’re the only person he’s afraid of.”
“That applies to a lot of people.” He reached forward and grabbed the decanter sitting on the coffee table. Judging by the amber color, it must be scotch. He filled a short glass then threw his head back as he downed it in a single swallow. But he wasn’t done because he refilled the glass.
“Is that apple juice?”
He smirked then poured another glass—one for me. “See for yourself.”
I left the glass untouched. “It’s Grave Toussaint.”
He stared at the glass in his hand and didn’t take a drink. His reaction was subtle, a quick tightening of his jawline, a whiteness to his knuckles. But then it was gone in a flash, as if it was never there in the first place.
“You’ve got to help me—”
“I don’t have to do anything.” He turned back to me, his eyes angry. “Let’s not forget the circumstances here. You’re a peasant asking a king for his army when you have literally nothing to offer in return.”
“I have money.”
He suppressed a laugh by taking a drink.
“A million euros—”
“You know how much I pay my staff on a daily basis to run this ship? Thirty thousand euros. Your money is worthless to me.” He brought the glass to his lips and took a drink. “I’m officially bored with this conversation. I’ll tell the captain to return to the dock so you can get the f**k off my property.”
“Wait—”
“I don’t care about your miserable life.” Now he raised his voice. “How can I make that clearer?”
I’d worked so hard to gain an audience with this man. I couldn’t let it all be a waste. “Whether you help me or not, I’ve got to kill this guy. So, is there any advice you could give me?”
He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly annoyed. “You want my advice? Run.”
“I’m not going to live my life like that—”
“Then die.” He held my gaze as he said it, just to prove how indifferent he truly was. “Because you aren’t going to kill Grave, and you sure as hell aren’t going to recruit me to kill him either.”
“How can you be enemies if you don’t want to kill each other?”
His answer was a stare. “Stop questioning me as if you have the right to my answers.”
“Look, if you don’t want to kill him…could I at least stay with you?”
Now his eyebrows furrowed deeper than ever before.
“I can be part of the staff. One of the maids. I could help in the kitchen. You don’t have to pay me—just let me stay on your property. I know he won’t touch me here.”
His stare continued, like he didn’t know what to make of the offer. “I have plenty of maids. I have several chefs. I have valets, gardeners, personal assistants. My staff is fully booked.”
I’d feared that was what he would say.
“Why do you run from him?”
It was too personal to share with a stranger, but he was the one who held the cards. “It’s a long story… He basically became obsessed with me, and that obsession turned manic. I couldn’t live that way anymore, so I ran for it. He has something really important to me because he knew I’d come back for it. I tried to steal it back, but I barely escaped with my freedom. I know he’ll never stop hunting me.”
His stare was exactly as it was before, stiffly locked into place. “He loves you.”
His version of love, at least. “Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“Would I be running from him if I did?”
“Did you ever love him?”
“No.” My answer was immediate, without hesitation, because I could never love a man like that.
“How long did this relationship last?”
“Three years.”
“And in all that time, you never loved him?” he asked, slightly incredulous.
I looked away, embarrassed. “It was a job…”
The silence was deafening.
It seemed to go on forever.
I didn’t look at him, not wanting his judgment, his ridicule, his harshness.
But it never came.
When the curiosity became too much, I looked at him again.
His eyes were on me, free of callousness. The intensity remained, studying me like I was the prized horse projected to win at the races. Like I was a business he was about to acquire. A piece of art he was about to add to his collection. “You’re hired.”
“You just said you didn’t have any room on your staff.”
“That’s not where you’ll be working.”
A flash of heat erupted through my body, stinging my nerves.
“You’ll work for me—personally. Understand?”
How could I not understand when he looked at me like that.
“Answer me.”
“Yes…I understand.”
- Writer
