I should get a translation app.

  When I left his suite, I couldn’t keep a smile from my lips. Never had I ever experienced something like that. And unfortunately for Michele, he’d made me crave it. My demands would only grow. He had better be prepared.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lying on my stomach, I stared at my phone, willing the hours to roll back. I had trouble sleeping again. My habit was to sleep on my back. Hard to do after a whipping.

  The memory made me tingle all over, but I still didn’t have the desire to get up.

  The door to my bunk slid open and Kennia emerged, coming off her nightshift and ready for bed. She spotted me, and I saw the agitation that crossed her face.

  “Lazy ass,” she said as she closed the door behind her. “What you doin’ in bed, hmm?”

  “I got shit for sleep.” It wasn’t a good excuse, but it’d been the truth.

  “Why’s that, then?” she asked, peeling off her shirt and tossing it into the hamper to be washed.

  “I may or may not have been whipped last night.”

  I didn’t think a person could turn so fast. One second, I’d been presented with Kennia’s back. Before I had the chance to blink, she was facing me, her brows high and eyes wide.

  “What’s that, now?”

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I contemplated telling Kennia everything. In truth, I’d wanted to since finding out that Michele had been the man in London. I’d just never had the chance. I’d spent a while trying to come to terms with it, then the gameplay had started right after. Toss in wonky shifts and a gaggle of blondes, and I couldn’t find the right moment.

  With a sigh, I got up. It didn’t matter how tenderly I sat on my ass, it remained sore and raw. I’d taken a look at it before I went to bed and there were numerous, numerous welts. He did well.

  “You start somethin’ with that lad?” she asked, stepping closer. “What’s his name again?”

  “Michele,” I said. His name felt strange on my tongue. I’d never said it out loud before.

  “Holy shit, Bay. You sure you know what you’re doin’?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “We’ve met before.”

  I hadn’t thought it possible for her eyes to get wider.

  “All right, then.” Kennia lunged toward me and promptly began to push me out of the way until she could join me on my bunk. Crossing her legs, she stared at me unblinking, ready for a story. “Start from the beginnin’.”

  So I did. I told her that I knew there’d been something about him the moment he’d stepped on the yacht. I told her about him confronting me and telling me that he’d been the one to flog me in London. I even told her that we’d already fooled around, though I saved her the details. No, I saved myself the act of relaying them. Kennia had done her best to pry.

  “And last night, he did it again.”

  Kennia said nothing. She leaned against the wall at the foot of my bed, her hands resting in her lap. There’d been no indication which way she leaned, no way to tell whether she was angry with me or not.

  After a while, she spoke. “Huh.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Huh?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, huh. I don’t really know what to say.”

  Her response surprised me. Perhaps it shouldn’t have. “Oh. Um, okay.”

  “Well,” she said, scratching a spot behind her ear. “You at least know what you’re doin’?”

  I slumped against the wall at the head of my bed, squaring myself on her. She met my gaze.

  Yup. Sitting officially hurts.

  “I mean, it’s all fun and games, right?”

  Kennia arched a brow.

  “It’s not like we plan to date or anything. We’re just having fun.”

  She didn’t seem convinced, but I suppose I didn’t expect her to be. In reality, I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never done anything like it before. I just assumed that whatever Michele and I had would end when the ship docked in Venice. That would be the logical thing.

  “All right,” Kennia said as she slid off the bed. “I know I don’t need to tell ya this, but I’m gonna, anyway. Be careful.”

  Smiling to myself, I replied, “I’m a grown-up. I don’t fall for every guy I play with.”

  “Nah, not that,” she said with a shake of the head. “I mean be careful so no one else finds out. I don’t want people thinkin’ I associate with some bloody tart.”

  Kennia had barely made it to the end of the sentence before she began to giggle. Reaching back, I grabbed my pillow and lobbed it at her. Laughing like a maniac, she swatted it away, stuck her tongue out at me and disappeared into the bathroom before I had the chance to throw anything else at her.

  Kennia didn’t care what I did with my personal life so long as I took care of myself, so it made sense her warning had been of the professional kind. She didn’t want my relationship with a client to come to light, a fear I myself had harbored. It would taint my reputation and, if I chose to continue stewarding, it’d be difficult for me to get a job on another yacht. I could respect her for that.

  That being said, I had no intention of letting anyone find out. Although, that meant I should probably stop dropping to my knees in the middle of a hall that anyone could walk down.

  Heaving myself to my feet, I got ready for the day.

  * * * *

  Breakfast came, and as I had so many times before, I served the guests alongside another steward.

  Most of the guests were seated at their favorite place to lounge, the aft deck. One of the older gentlemen stood off to the side in the sun, speaking quite angrily to someone on his phone.

  The second older man was sat beside one of the middle-aged gentlemen, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he spoke. The middle-aged man, who I believed was Patritzio, listened intently. At the head of the table, the other middle-aged man, Antony, listened with much less interest.

  Michele sat next, across from Patritzio and beside Dominic, who was busy with his cell phone. Michele didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in what was happening around him, leaning back in his chair with an elbow resting on the arm. His gaze fell to me when I emerged from the depths of the ship, and I had trouble looking away, but I needed to work.

  There was an order to things. It helped prevent people from bumping into one another and spilling anything. That order kept me from being the one to hand Michele his plate, but that hadn’t stopped him from reminding me he was there. How he’d thought I’d forgotten, I don’t know.

  When I set the plate down in front of Antony, the seat next to Michele, he shifted to the side. I’d assumed he did it to give me more space, but no. He had done so to give him a better angle with which to grab me.

  He cupped my ass with his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before I stepped away. My breath hitched, a shock of pain causing my muscles to seize for a brief second until I regained control.

  As I walked away, I peered back over my shoulder. Michele met my eye and winked. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  He’s such a shit.

  Mandy retired to the galley to retrieve the final set of plates while I slipped into the salon to make the mimosas.

  I had just finished pouring the orange juice into the six flutes when he approached.

  “When breakfast is done,” Michele said, “come to my room.”

  “I can’t,” I said. With a rag over the top of the champagne, I did my best to remove the cork without hurting myself or anyone else. When the pop came, I jumped. No matter how many bottles I’d opened, I would always jump. “I have to work. Besides, it might get a little suspicious if I keep going to your room, wouldn’t it?”

  He smirked. “If you are worried about appearances, there may be some towels to launder.”

  His playful tone made me smile. Michele lingered, watching as I poured the champagne.

  “Please?”

  The please surprised me to the point that I had been compelled to look up. There’d be no denying the sincerity in his request. It made me curious.

  “Okay,” I said. “After breakfast, I’ll come get the towels.”

  Michele smiled and walked away to join the others. I finished the drinks moments later and handed them out, then went on to clean up. In an hour, it appeared that I would be visiting Michele in his room, and I didn’t know if I should’ve been happy or worried.

  Perhaps a pleasant mixture of the two.

  * * * *

  Heart in my throat, I approached Michele’s door and was surprised to find it open. I knocked on the threshold regardless. He appeared from the bathroom, a handful of ‘used’ towels in his grasp. I suspected they were the towels from the previous night, and he’d done nothing more than unfold them to give the appearance of use.

  “Come in,” he said, dropping them onto the bed.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Sacchi?”

  He met me in stride, his gaze dancing over me. With his brows together, he met my stare.

  “How are you feeling?”

  My heart swelled and I had to lower my chin so he couldn’t see the smile that had formed. When I could control myself again, I looked up at him.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “A bit sore, but I’m fine.”

  “Show me.”

  His request surprised me, but perhaps it shouldn’t have. It made sense that he’d want to see his handiwork.

  I hesitated, my fingers tingling and heartbeat quick. Since I’d worn my shorts the day before, I stood in front of Michele in a denim skirt.

  It does make things easier.

  Turning my back to him, I took hold of the hem and tugged the garment up. The fabric was stiff but molded to my desires and soon came to rest in a mass above my hips.

  Michele leaned to the side, tilting his head to get a better look. He held my waist in his hands, tensing and squeezing while he examined me. He didn’t seem to realize it.

  “You’ve bruised,” he said with a disappointed sigh. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “That’s probably my fault,” I replied. “I think I got a little carried away.”

  He shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I became overzealous. It was my fault, completely.”

  “Well, regardless, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  He had nothing to apologize for as far as I was concerned. He’d done better than I could put into words.

  “I have something that may help.”

  Michele stepped into the bathroom. I pushed my skirt back into place and nearly had it settled when he returned. He held a small bottle, simple in design and reeking of money.

  “What is that?”

  “An oil,” he said. “It helps with many things, one being bruising and aches.”

  I raised my brows. Why would he have something like that?

  “Does it work?”

  “Very well.”

  The thought of being able to sleep on my back in the next few days intrigued me. Sitting wasn’t an issue once I found the right technique. I could control the pressure. Sleep had been a nightmare. Being unconscious and unable to adjust, the pain was enough to wake me up many times.

  “Okay,” I said after a moment of thought. “How do I use it?”

  A smirk twisted his full lips, tugging his facial hair up in the corner. The wickedness I’d grown to enjoy flashed in his eyes once again.

  “You lie across my lap, and I will apply it.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip and thought about his hands on my body again. My agreement must have come quicker than I expected.

  Within seconds, he’d taken a seat on his bed and I, with my skirt pulled up, had lain across his lap.

  Cold droplets of oil caused me to twitch. They warmed to my skin and trailed down the slope of my ass, but their path had been interrupted by Michele’s delicate touch.

  He proceeded to caress me, to rub the oil into my bruises and welts. Resting my head on my folded arms, I reveled in the sensation, flinching only when he touched a particularly sensitive area.

  While I was comfortable in the silence, something began to press into my stomach. I thought nothing of it at first, but the more persistent it became, the more I couldn’t ignore it.

  “Are you getting hard again?” I doubted I removed the smile from my words.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “It has a mind of its own. I have no control over it around beautiful women.”

  A blush came to my cheeks. I did my best to suppress it while Michele continued to smear the oil over my skin. It stung but offered a surprising level of relief as well.

  “Do they still hurt?” he asked, doing his best to remain gentle while he caressed me.

  “A little bit.”

  Sounding more worried than before, he asked, “Was it too much?”

  Smiling to myself once more, I replied, “I would’ve said something if it was.”

  He chuckled. “I have no doubt.”

  Another silence fell and, as I lay there, relishing the sensation of his hands, I began to slip. So relaxed, I could have fallen asleep if allowed, and that was a problem.

  “Are you almost done?”

  “I’ve been finished for some time.”

  “What?” I shifted to look back at him.

  Michele smirked down at me. “I was simply enjoying myself.”

  I elbowed his thigh. Michele snickered and didn’t stop me when I stood.

  “You’re an ass,” I said, a giggle lacing my words.

  He shrugged a shoulder, looking anything but apologetic. Rolling my eyes, I did my best to appear presentable once again, using the giant mirror on the wall to do so. When I had, I turned to face him.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled and gave me a small nod. “Of course.”

  With little else to say, I stepped around him and began to gather the towels.

  As I counted them, draping each over my arm as I did, Dominic burst into the room in boisterous fashion, smiling wide. He spotted the pair of us, and the happy expression shifted into a sneer. He said something to Michele in Italian. Michele brushed his comment away and said something else. I understood nothing but a single word, Yasmin.

  My gut twisted, but I did my best to keep the emotion from my face. Stepping around him, I gave Michele my attention. I’d intended to wait until he’d finished his conversation with Dominic, but instead, he held up a slender finger to keep his cousin from speaking.

  “Yes, Miss Hurst?” His professional tone was as lovely as his normal voice.

  “I’ll take these down to the laundry and bring up replacements right away.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  As I left, Dominic winked and blew kisses at me. I didn’t scowl, though the desire had been there.

  “Sir,” I said, with no warmth in my voice.

  He chuckled, seemingly amused with something to the point where a slap to my ass had been his version of an appropriate response. The pain and ache rocketed through my body, tensing the muscles that’d been given the chance to relax over the few previous moments.

  I refused to turn around and acknowledge that he’d done anything at all, though my gait had changed to cope with the throbbing. Michele’s angry voice followed me into the hall but faded the farther away I’d walked. He didn’t sound happy with Dominic’s slap.

  A hidden crew stairwell nearby offered me a place to descend instead of walking the length of the vessel to go downstairs. Bounding down the narrow steps, I thought about what Dominic had said. Yes, I’d been ignorant of the language, but I wasn’t an idiot. Given intonation and body language, deep down, I knew Yasmin and her crew would be stepping foot on The Silver Wind at some point that day.

  The good feelings left over from the sweet moment I’d shared with Michele vanished. I really, really didn’t want to spend time around The Gaggle.

  Chapter Twelve

  Twenty minutes after I’d left his suite, I returned with an armful of towels and found Michele pacing. It seemed as though he’d been waiting on me, which I hadn’t expected.

  “I have your towels,” I said for no known reason other than to alert him of my arrival.

  Michele nodded and thanked me under his breath, but something seemed off. I hesitated to step into his bathroom, waiting to see if he’d speak further, but when he hadn’t, I did my job and put the towels in the bathroom cupboard. When I returned to the bedroom, Michele hadn’t stopped pacing, apparently still deep in thought.

  I’d nearly made it to the door before the urge to speak took over. “Are you okay?”

  He paused, peering at me through his lashes. An awkward silence stretched between us. I’d overstepped. Prying was part of neither agreement Michele and I had. It had nothing to do with our playtime, and a stewardess was meant to be seen, not heard.

  “I’m sorry,” I was fast to say. “I shouldn’t have asked. Excuse me.”

  “No, wait,” he said before I stepped out of the door. I gave him my attention. “I apologize. I am a bit distracted at the moment.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have pressed. It’s none of my business.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, his hands finding their way into his pockets. He did that a lot. I wondered if it was a nervous habit, a ‘comfort blanket’ of sorts. “We will be hosting our guests again. In fact”—he checked his watch and sighed—“they will be here shortly.”

  “And you’re not happy about that.” I did my best to remove the deadpan tone and come across as sympathetic, but it was difficult, given my personal distaste for Yasmin.

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “Well, the boat’s big. I’m sure we could hide you in a closet somewhere.”

  Michele smiled a little, chuckling at my comment and aware that it’d been a joke.

  “She may find me regardless, I’m afraid.”

  “Yasmin.”

  I heard the agitation in my voice the moment I spoke her name. The attempt to keep my tone light and casual had been in vain.

  Michele’s gaze fixed to me. He arched a brow. “You don’t like her, do you?”