The Steamy Fake Deal With Scarlett Thompson

Chapter 4.

Chapter 4: Torn Between Truths

“Hey, you okay?”

The sound of Maverick’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I look up to find him standing at the door of the balcony, leaning against the frame with a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking,” I reply, trying to brush off the unease swirling in my chest.

He raises an eyebrow, stepping outside and joining me on the balcony. “About what?”

I hesitate. “About everything,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “About this… fake dating thing. About how it’s getting harder to pretend.”

Maverick stands next to me, his gaze scanning the horizon as if he’s trying to find the right words. For a moment, the only sound is the gentle hum of the ocean and the soft rustling of the wind. Then, in his usual calm manner, he speaks. “Scarlett, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

I turn to look at him, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. “What do you mean?”

He looks at me with a soft smile, but there’s something deeper in his eyes now. “I’m not pretending. I never was.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut. “What do you mean you’re not pretending? We agreed this was just for the cruise. Just for the revenge.”

Maverick steps closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way. “I know. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just a game. I’m not playing anymore, Scarlett.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “You’re serious?” I ask, my voice shaking.

His gaze softens, and for the first time, I see something vulnerable in his eyes. “I’m serious.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind races, my heart is in overdrive, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. This was never supposed to happen. I was supposed to get back at Richard, to make him feel the sting of betrayal. But now, Maverick’s words are sinking in, and I can’t deny the flutter in my chest, the warmth spreading through my body.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” I confess, my voice quiet.

Maverick reaches for my hand, his fingers brushing against mine in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. “You don’t have to do anything yet,” he says softly. “Just think about it. We have time.”

But time is something I’m running out of. Richard is still out there, still watching, still waiting for me to slip up. If I give in to whatever this is between Maverick and me, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.

Later that afternoon, as the ship prepares to dock at the next port, I find myself alone in the lounge, nursing a glass of wine. The ship’s crew is bustling around, making preparations for the next leg of the journey, but my mind is elsewhere. It’s with Maverick. It’s with the way he looked at me this morning. The way his words still linger in my ears.

“Thinking too much again?”

I look up, startled, and find Maverick standing beside me, his expression amused. I give him a tight smile, trying to push the thoughts aside. “Just… figuring things out.”

“Need help?” He smirks, sliding into the seat next to mine without waiting for an answer.

I chuckle softly, my nerves slightly easing. “I don’t know if anyone can help with this. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

“Feelings are overrated,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What matters is what you want.”

I take a long sip of my wine, avoiding his gaze. “I want this whole mess to end,” I admit, feeling the weight of the truth settling in. “I want to go back to a life where I’m not constantly pretending. Where I don’t have to keep up the act for Richard, or for anyone.”

Maverick leans back in his chair, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “But what if the act isn’t the problem?” he asks gently. “What if it’s something else?”

I frown, not understanding what he’s getting at. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward, his eyes intense as they lock onto mine. “What if you’re not pretending for Richard, but for yourself? What if you’re not sure what you really want because you’ve been so busy trying to protect yourself from getting hurt?”

I freeze, the words hitting me harder than I expected. I hadn’t realized it until now, but he’s right. I’ve been so focused on getting back at Richard, on proving something to him, that I never stopped to think about what I actually want. And right now, what I want is Maverick.

But that’s not possible. Not with everything that’s at stake.

Before I can respond, Maverick stands, offering me a smile that’s warm and understanding. “You don’t have to figure it all out now. Just think about it, okay?”

I nod, though my mind is racing. He’s right. I need to think. I need to take a step back and figure out what I want. But it’s hard to think when every part of me is drawn to him, when every touch from him feels like a spark, and I’m terrified that it’s going to turn into a fire.

The evening comes quickly, and with it, the announcement that we’re headed to a new destination. The air is thick with excitement as everyone prepares for the next port, but I can’t shake the unease in my chest. Richard is still a presence, his eyes following me wherever I go, and every time I look at him, I feel a mix of guilt and satisfaction.

Maverick is by my side as we walk towards the dining room for dinner. I’m trying to act normal, to keep my head in the game, but with every step, it feels like the ground is shifting beneath me.

As we enter the dining area, Richard is already seated at a table with Lisa. He looks up as we approach, his eyes narrowing when he sees Maverick’s hand on the small of my back. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Maverick pulls out a chair for me, his gesture deliberate, and I take my seat with a forced smile.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Richard says, his voice clipped as he watches us.

I glance at Maverick, who gives me a subtle nod. “I am,” I reply coolly, my tone laced with the satisfaction I’ve been holding back. “In fact, I’ve never been better.”

Richard’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he focuses on his meal, his gaze flicking to me every so often. It’s clear that he’s rattled, and it’s clear that he’s losing his grip.

Maverick leans closer to me, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “This is working,” he says, a hint of triumph in his words.

I look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah, it is.”