“f**k,” he muttered. This was bad. Really bad. He hadn’t actually done anything s****l, but the narrative seemed to be that Isaac had gone on an orgy bender with his alleged flame, Ella.
“I need to go,” he said, grabbing his wallet and scrounging up the rest of his belongings. One of his shoes was nowhere to be found, so he gave up and tossed the other aside, going barefoot.
“Where are you going?” Ella whined as he moved past her. “You’re not going back to her, are you?”
He shot Ella a withering look. “I have to. I’m getting married tomorrow.”
She just smiled sadly. “We’ll see about that.”
Isaac didn’t have the time or the stomach to ask what she meant. If he didn’t get off this damn yacht pronto, he was going to puke all over the floor.
The ride back to the palace
