Billionaire At Sea

12

My doorbell rang.

Groaning, I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It was seven-thirty a.m.

“Dammit,” I muttered, as the doorbell rang again. I got out of bed, grabbed a robe, and hurried to the front door. When I opened it and saw Ridley standing there with a suitcase, I gasped.

“Hi,” she said, trying to smile.

“Oh, my God, did Adam hit you?” I asked, staring at her face. Her left eye was black and blue and her lip was swollen. It had to hurt. My own eyes filled with tears.

She smiled weakly. “You should see his face.”

“That asshole,” I snapped, pulling her into my townhouse. “Did you call the police?”

“No,” she replied, setting her suitcase down on the floor. “I’m not going to.”

“Why not?” I asked, shocked.

“Like I said, you should see his face. I actually hit him first.”

I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. “I’m sure he deserved it. You don’t deserve this, though. What happened?”

My brave, strong friend broke down. “He accused me of having s*x with Damian and started calling me names. I slapped him and then he punched me in the face.”

“Oh, Ridley,” I said, now crying with her. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“I just can’t believe he did this to me. I have never cheated on him or gave him reason to believe that I would. I suppose it was because he was drunk.”

“Drunk or not,” I said sternly, “what he did was horrible and wrong. Don’t make excuses for him.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“When did this happen?”

“When I got home, last night.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was going to but then he took my phone and started going through it, looking for who knows what. Anyway, I locked myself in the guestroom and eventually we both fell asleep.”

“How many times did he hit you?”

“He punched me the one time and when I tried kicking him out, he slapped my face.”

That bastard. I clenched my teeth. “Where is he?”

“Back at home. Probably still passed out in bed.” She smiled grimly. “He’s going to be hurting. I also threw a paperweight at him. His cheekbone is going to be killing him today.”

“Good.”

She let out a ragged sigh. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to leave the asshole.”

“He’s never been violent before. I’m sure it was the alcohol.”

“He’s never been violent but he’s always been jealous, even without drinking. You can’t stay with him, Ridley. Don’t even think about it.”

“I love him.”

“I know you do.”

She didn’t say anything else. Just stared at the wall, her thoughts miles away.

“Why don’t you go and get some rest?” I told her. “You can stay in my guestroom. Hell, you can move in with me permanently if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” she said, swiping at her tears.

“I’ll go into the kitchen and get you some ice for your bruises.” I looked at her eye. “Are you sure you don’t want to call the police?”

“No. I just want everything to go away,” she replied bitterly. “I don’t want to involve the cops.”

I touched her shoulder. “That’s fine, but remember, you don’t owe Adam anything and you certainly don’t have to give him another chance, especially now that it’s turned physical.”

“I know. I started it, though.”

I groaned. “You slapped him. It may have not been the right thing to do, but it didn’t warrant a closed fist to the face. There’s quite a difference and he should have known better.”

“I know.”

I sighed. “You remember where the guestroom is?”

“I do,” she said, picking up her suitcase. “Thank you, Mia.”

“Anytime. Remember, whenever you need me, I’m here for you. I love you, girl.”

Ridley blinked back more tears. “I love you, too.”

Damian

For the next couple of days, I couldn’t get Mia out of my head.

Neither of them.

It was distracting as all hell.

Several times I thought about calling and asking her out, but then remembered the promise I’d made to myself about mixing business with pleasure. It had royally f****d me over last time.

“Screw it,” I said, grabbing my phone for the tenth time. “Mia is nothing like my ex.” Just as I was about to make the call, my cell began to ring.

“Stryker,” I said into the phone.

“Buddy,” said a familiar voice. “Long time no talk. How’s it going?”

“Ransom,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t recognize the number.”

He sighed. “I’ve had to change it again.”

“More stalker fans hounding you?”

“Just one psycho that is really irritating the f**k out of me.”

“Sorry to hear that, man. What’s this person been doing?”

“I’d rather not go into it right now. Taffy’s around.”

Taffy, AKA Tiffany, was his fiancée. Beautiful with a heart of gold and a stubbornness that matched his.

“How is she doing, by the way?” I asked, picturing her long, blonde hair and lovely smile.

“Great. She just completed her first album.”

“Really? Good for her. I imagine it’s incredible.”

“Understatement. I wouldn’t have thought her voice could get any better, but the singing lessons have raised everything up a notch. She totally blows my mind every time I hear her sing.”

“It takes talent to know talent.”

“Thanks, man.”

Ransom, the guy whose bachelor party we were celebrating, was a famous rock star and television sensation, thus all of the secrecy. We’d run into each other years ago at a Hollywood party, and had become instant friends. He spent most of his time in California, but owned another house in the Keys. When I’d learned that he was getting married, I offered my yacht and one of the best weekends of his life. He’d accepted, but with one condition. No prostitutes.

“What about strippers?” I’d asked, knowing that some of his friends were already talking about hiring them.

“Strippers are fine. I can look but made a promise that I wouldn’t touch. You can do what you want, though.”

“What’s wrong, don’t trust yourself around prostitutes?” I’d ribbed.

“I trust myself I just don’t want them around. Besides, with my luck, the media would catch wind and tell everyone that I’m f*****g around on Taffy. She doesn’t need that kind of publicity.”

“I hear you.”

One thing about Ransom was that he was passionate about protecting Tiffany. He’d even tried getting her thrown off of a national television singing contest once because he thought it would ruin her life. Fortunately, things worked out for the best and Tiffany not only forgave Ransom, but agreed to marry the bull-headed watchdog. They were a great couple, though, and had been engaged for the last year. If anyone could make a marriage work, it was those two.

“So, we’re all set for next week,” I told him. “You excited?”

“Hell yeah. When do we set sail?”

“I’d like to leave Friday afternoon but you can climb on board anytime you want. I’m going to be staying on the yacht for most of the week myself. So feel free to arrive early, if you can.”

I’d also invited Mia and Ridley to board a couple days before we set sail, so they could familiarize themselves with the ship. That’s what I’d told myself, at least. Deep down I knew the real reason was that I wanted to see more of Mia.

“I wish I could but I’m busy. I’ll be there on Friday, though, along with some of the guests, including my band members. They’re excited about the trip.”

“It should be a blast.”

“Hell yeah and I can’t thank you enough.”

“No problem.”

“Anyway, I wanted to check in with you quickly. I have to get off the phone now,” he said, sounding amused. “Taffy is waiting for me. She’s giving me the evil eye.”

“Then I’d better let you go. Give her my best.”

“I will. See you next Friday.”

“Looking forward to it.”

We both hung up.

I stared down at my phone and then put it away. I decided to wait until next week to figure things out with Mia. The last thing I needed was for her to turn me down if I asked her out. Even worse, she might decide to cancel the catering job next week, then I’d be scrambling to find someone else. Patience wasn’t always a strong-point for me, but I knew that with a woman like Mia, I had to dig deep and find some.