A New Year’s cruise

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Deal

The next morning, the ship is bathed in golden sunlight as we glide over the deep blue waters. The sun’s warmth is a stark contrast to the cold, restless feeling inside me. I’ve barely slept, my mind replaying everything that happened with Steven last night. The deal we struck still seems too good to be true—too dangerous, maybe. But it’s too late to back out now. The words are out there, and I’ve agreed. Fake date him. Help him with some revenge. And somehow, try to get over Kyle.

I stand on the balcony of my cabin, the cool breeze tousling my hair as I look out at the endless horizon. It’s peaceful here, but my mind feels anything but.

A soft knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I turn, and there he is—Steven, standing in the doorway, looking every bit the part of the confident billionaire I saw last night. His tailored suit is replaced with a more casual outfit: a dark blue shirt and black jeans that fit him just right, giving him an effortlessly sharp look.

"Morning," he says, his voice warm, but with a hint of amusement as he looks me over. "I brought you coffee. Thought you might need it after a long night of thinking."

I chuckle dryly. "You have no idea."

He steps into the room, holding out a steaming cup. "Don’t tell me you’re already regretting our deal. It’s only been a few hours."

I take the coffee, grateful for the distraction. The rich scent is comforting, though the weight of what I’ve agreed to hangs heavy in the air. "I’m not regretting anything yet," I say carefully. "But I’m still not sure about this."

He smiles, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You’ll be fine. Trust me, Maria. This is what you need. A little fun. A little distraction. And a lot of revenge."

I sip the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through me. I’m tempted to believe him. After all, Kyle’s betrayal still feels fresh, and this might be the only way to get some closure—some justice, even. "I don’t know," I murmur, more to myself than to him. "It just feels… strange. Fake dating? I’ve never done anything like this."

He sits down on the edge of the small sofa, his gaze never leaving mine. "You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Maria. I’m not asking for anything crazy. Just play the part. I’ll handle the rest. But I promise, by the end of this cruise, you’ll feel a lot better about everything."

I look at him, studying his face for any sign of deceit, but all I see is sincerity—or at least, what looks like sincerity. "I just need to know one thing," I say, setting the coffee cup down. "Why me? Why choose me for this deal? You don’t even know me."

Steven leans back, his eyes darkening slightly, as if he’s considering how much to reveal. "Let’s just say we both have a little bit of baggage," he says slowly, a touch of mystery in his voice. "I need to keep a low profile on this ship. And I’ve learned over the years that it’s better to have a partner who doesn’t ask too many questions."

I raise an eyebrow. "So you’re using me for cover?"

His smile returns, this time a little more playful. "Not exactly. You’re not just a cover, Maria. You’re someone who understands what it feels like to be betrayed. To be hurt. I think that makes you the perfect person for this… arrangement."

I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended. "You think you know me that well?"

"Maybe not fully," he admits, "but I can tell enough. Besides, we’re both looking for the same thing: revenge on someone who’s wronged us."

That stops me cold. "Revenge?" I repeat, almost laughing. "What, you think this is all about getting back at my ex? This is about you, isn’t it?"

His expression darkens for a moment, and I realize I’ve struck a nerve. "It’s not just about revenge," he says quietly. "It’s about making sure certain people don’t get away with things. About taking control, when all you’ve had is control taken away."

The intensity in his voice sends a chill through me, but I hold his gaze. "I still don’t get it," I say, my voice steady. "Who are we going after, Steven? Who’s really behind all of this?"

He looks away, out the window, as if the answer is right there on the ocean horizon. "It’s not something I can explain easily," he says after a moment, his tone less sure than before. "But I can promise you this: it’s bigger than just your ex. It’s bigger than you or me. And when this is all over, you’ll understand."

I don’t ask any more questions. Part of me wants to dig deeper, to demand the answers, but the other part of me is afraid of what I might uncover. For now, it’s easier to just let it go.

I stand up, grabbing my bag from the bed. "Alright, so what’s the plan? How do we start this fake dating thing?"

Steven stands with me, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark. "First rule: act like you’re into me. Don’t make it obvious that this is a game."

I groan. "Great. You want me to pretend like I’m interested in you? And here I thought this was supposed to be easy."

"Come on," he teases. "You’re a beautiful woman. Pretending should be the easy part."

I roll my eyes. "This is going to be so weird."

He laughs, the sound warm and full of confidence. "Just trust me. It’ll be fun. And it’ll get us both what we want."

I don’t reply. What can I say? The plan sounds ridiculous, but I’m in too deep now to back out. "Alright," I say finally. "Let’s get this over with."

Steven grins. "That’s the spirit."

---

The next few days pass in a blur of fake smiles, rehearsed gestures, and awkward moments. Steven is everywhere—at dinner, at the pool, at the bar. And everywhere I go, he’s right there beside me, his arm casually draped around my shoulders, his eyes scanning the room for anyone who might question our relationship. We’re convincing enough, I guess, because no one seems to ask too many questions.

But the truth is, I’m not sure I’m pretending anymore.

At night, I lie awake in my cabin, the sound of the ocean crashing against the ship’s hull filling the silence. I can’t help but think about the way Steven looks at me—like he’s not just pretending, like he actually sees me. I push the thought away quickly. It’s dangerous. We’re supposed to be playing a part. That’s it.

But when I see Steven’s eyes darken across the room, when he pulls me in just a little closer than necessary, I can’t help but wonder: is he playing a part too?

The thought lingers in my mind for hours, and by the time I finally drift to sleep, the lines between real and fake have begun to blur.