Tycoon's Growing Obsession

8: I'm involved in everything

After the two finally left the casino, Leitch collapsed into his chair, his entire body drenched in cold sweat.

He'd been a dealer for five years—five years of handling high-stakes games, difficult customers, and tense situations. But he had never, never experienced a game as nerve-wracking as tonight.

At first, he'd kept losing on purpose, following the silent commands from the terrifying man's eyes. Each loss had made his heart pound harder, wondering if he was doing it right, if he was being too obvious, if he'd somehow displease that man.

He'd been so exhausted and disheartened that he hadn't dared leave the table, even when his shift technically ended. The other dealers had given him sympathetic looks but hadn't offered to take over. No one wanted to be anywhere near that table.

Then the beautiful woman had wanted to lose, so he'd started winning. And even though he was winning—even though chips were being pushed toward him—that scary man had just kept smiling and looking pleased, his attention entirely focused on the woman beside him.

It had been terrifying in a completely different way.

They probably wouldn't kill someone to silence them after gambling, right? Leitch thought frantically, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. They wouldn't steal the money back and dispose of the witness, would they?

He looked down at the pile of chips in front of him—easily fifty thousand dollars worth. Money he'd "won" but that felt like a curse.

"Keep it," a voice said behind him, and Leitch nearly jumped out of his skin.

It was Marcus, the head of security, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "Mr. Ashford says you performed well tonight. The money is yours. Consider it a bonus for your discretion."

"D-discretion?" Leitch stammered.

"You will never speak of tonight to anyone," Marcus said quietly. "Not the woman, not the games, not anything you saw or heard. Do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes, of course! I saw nothing, I know nothing!" Leitch said quickly.

Marcus nodded once and disappeared back into the shadows.

Leitch looked at the chips again, then quickly gathered them up and fled to cash them out. He'd take the money, keep his mouth shut, and pray he never had to deal with Mr. Ashford again.

On the Cruise Ship Deck

The night air was cool and refreshing after the stuffy atmosphere of the casino. Lydia and Alexander walked side by side along the deck, the ocean stretching endlessly around them, dark and mysterious under the star-filled sky.

"My understanding of your assets has been completely refreshed after tonight," Lydia said, glancing up at him. "What exactly do you do? I mean, I know you said business, but... you own an entire cruise ship. You have a secret casino. People jump to obey you with just a look."

Alexander smiled slightly. "I'm involved in everything. My business interests are quite diverse. I've probably worked in every industry you can think of—shipping, real estate, technology, finance, entertainment, hospitality."

It's indeed a mixed bag, he thought. Involving both legitimate business and... less legitimate operations. Both light and shadow.

"No wonder you're so generous," Lydia said, then put on an exaggerated pleading expression, clasping her hands together. "Mr. Eisner, you'll have to take good care of me in the future! I'm just a poor art student with no prospects!"

She was teasing, her eyes sparkling with mischief. But Alexander's expression shifted, his eyes gradually darkening with intensity.

He caught her hand and placed it directly over his heart. She could feel it beating—strong, steady, rapid.

"Lily," he said, his voice dropping to something low and rough. "You should understand what I'm thinking. What I'm feeling."

Lydia pressed down slightly on his chest, feeling the warmth of him through the thin fabric of his shirt. She smiled, but her own heart was racing. "Understand what? I don't understand at all."

"Lily is so heartless," Alexander said, and suddenly he lowered his head, resting it on her shoulder like a child seeking comfort.

"You're going to make me say it out loud, aren't you?"

The gesture was so unexpectedly vulnerable that Lydia's breath caught. This powerful man, this tycoon who commanded respect and fear, was resting his head on her shoulder like he needed her.

But she wasn't ready. Not yet. She needed more time.

So instead of answering seriously, Lydia gently pushed his head away and took off running down the deck, her laughter echoing in the night air. "Let's see how you do! You have to work harder than this!"

Alexander lifted his head and watched her retreating figure—her hair streaming behind her, her dress fluttering in the wind, her laughter like music.

His heart overflowed with joy so intense it was almost painful. He wished this trip could last forever. Wished they could stay in this perfect bubble where it was just the two of them, the ocean, and endless time.

I wish the Santa Marianavoyage could last a little longer, he thought.

And then he realized—he could make that happen. Because the Santa Mariana was his ship.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to the captain: Change of plans. Indefinite voyage. We'll dock at various ports but maintain no fixed schedule. I'll let you know when to return to the original route.

What was supposed to be a month-long voyage from Asia to Europe suddenly became an indefinite journey.

The cruise ship would sail wherever Alexander wanted, docking at one port after another. One group of passengers would disembark, another would board, and the Santa Mariane would continue its endless journey.

And Alexander and Lydia would travel from place to place like this—exploring new cities, trying new foods, making memories.

One Month Later

To Alexander's immense delight, exactly one month after that night on the deck, Lydia finally accepted his confession.

They'd been exploring a port city in Greece, walking through narrow cobblestone streets lined with white buildings and blue-domed churches. The sunset had painted everything in shades of gold and rose.

"Lily," Alexander had said, stopping in a quiet square with a fountain. "I can't wait anymore. I need to know—do you feel the same way I do?"

Lydia had looked up at him, her heart pounding. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I can't breathe when you're not near me," Alexander said, stepping closer. "Like every moment I'm not touching you is a moment wasted. Like I want to give you everything I have and everything I am. Like I'm completely, utterly, obsessively in love with you."

Lydia's eyes had filled with tears. "Alex..."

"You don't have to say it back," he'd continued quickly. "Not if you're not ready. But please, please tell me you'll be mine. Officially. Let me call you my girlfriend. Let me—"

"Yes," Lydia had interrupted, smiling through her tears. "Yes, I'll be yours. I want to be yours."

The kiss that followed had been sweet and desperate and perfect.

That night, the usually extravagant Santa Fe had outdone itself. The entire ship had been covered in flowers—roses, peonies, orchids, cascading from every surface. And the fireworks above had burned for what seemed like hours, painting the sky in brilliant colors.

Everyone on the cruise ship that night had been incredibly lucky—they'd all received notifications that their entire stay, including all meals, drinks, and activities, would be completely complimentary, courtesy of Mr. Ashford celebrating a special occasion.

Top Floor, Alexander's Suite

"I want more! Give me more!" Lydia clung to Alexander, stretching her arm out to grab the wine bottle he was holding just out of reach.

They'd been celebrating their new relationship with champagne and wine, and Lydia—who still had an embarrassingly low alcohol tolerance—had gotten drunk again.

"Baby, you really can't drink anymore," Alexander said, his voice strained. He held the bottle high in one hand while his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her from losing her balance. "You'll feel terrible tomorrow morning."

His voice was deeper than usual, rougher. The feeling of her soft, warm body pressed against his chest, the sweet scent of her perfume mixed with wine, the way she was looking at him with those bright, unfocused eyes—it was taking every ounce of his control not to just throw her on the bed and—

No, he told himself firmly. We just got together. Take it slow. Don't scare her.

"I hate you~" Lydia pouted, her words slightly slurred. "You're the one who gave it to me to drink, and now you won't give me more! That's not fair! I'll bite you!"

She stood on her tiptoes, trying to bite his neck in retaliation. But she was too drunk to aim properly, and instead of biting, she ended up kissing and licking the sensitive skin there.