Bianca
Ethan’s yacht was enormous—easily a hundred feet long, with multiple levels and sleek design. The main deck was outfitted with plush seating, ambient lighting, and a bar stocked with every kind of liquor imaginable.
I was f*****g terrified.
As we pulled away from the dock, I gripped the railing so tightly my knuckles turned white. I tried not to look at the inky black water below us, and instead kept my gaze on the horizon above.
“Yep, I just purchased her a few weeks ago,” Ethan was saying as he gave Isaac a tour. “Three guest cabins, a hot tub, and an observation deck…”
I glanced up at the two men, who were wandering the deck above me. Isaac was asking questions about horsepower and engine specs, all smiles and charm.
It made me wonder—was this the real Isaac
