A shiver rippled across the back of my neck, but I did my best to keep it hidden.

  “No. Why?”

  “Don’t know. It just seems like you’ve been avoiding everyone, especially Yasmin.”

  There’d been a leading way he asked the question, his tone unavoidable. It forced me to pause, turning to look at him with my brows creased. An unsettling feeling had crept up my spine and it refused to leave me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, hoping I’d instilled the appropriate emotion, even though I had no idea what that might’ve been. I was in uncharted territory.

  “She was tearing through here asking where you were,” he said. “Looked like she was on a mission to beat the hell out of you. What happened?”

  I shrugged, a lie quick to form. “Maybe she found out that I pushed her into the pool?”

  He seemed to give my excuse a fair amount of thought but shook his head.

  “Maybe, but something’s different. She was furious with Mr. Sacchi, too.”

  My heart sank. Not only had I put my job at risk but I’d also thrown some kind of wrench into his life, too.

  I should’ve kept my hands to myself. There was a reason I had rules.

  * * * *

  The day continued in a haze, my mind too busy to bother settling on anything in particular. Of the ways I’d thought the charter would go, being hunted down by a trust fund Barbie who genuinely frightened me because I’d fucked her intended boyfriend hadn’t been on that list.

  Thank Christ The Gaggle had left around lunch. It seemed as though Yasmin had either lost her patience with trying to find me in the floating mansion or she’d been ushered away to avoid something terrible. I didn’t care either way. She was gone.

  Navigating the hall with the intent of cleaning the windows that lined the second floor of the yacht, I found the man I’d been thinking of for the bulk of the day.

  Michele sat in a chair with a tablet in hand, his gaze on the screen while resting his head in his propped-up palm. The desire to turn and run had been strong, a need that bubbled inside me. But the need to apologize was stronger.

  Slow, measured steps brought me close enough to draw his gaze. He peered up at me, a small flinch in the corner of his eye.

  “Miss Hurst, hello,” he said, setting his tablet on the end table to his left. He rose to his feet with ease and turned his full attention to me.

  “I wanted to apologize,” I said, getting the words out before they could become lodged in my throat, blocked from escape by my growing nerves.

  His brows creased and he lolled his head to the side. “For what?”

  I didn’t bother hiding my disbelief. “After what happened in the hallway?”

  His expression fell and his head dipped. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he relaxed his stance before he met my gaze again.

  “Yasmin isn’t your concern,” he said. “The ordeal simply forced me to put things straight that should have been settled a long time ago.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I overstepped way too much, to the point where I interfered with your actual life.”

  “You need to stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  It didn’t make me feel any better, given what’d happened. It’d been clear the moment they stepped onto the ship that Yasmin’s and Michele’s groups had a past, a close enough connection that the old men had embraced one another. Whether through business or something else just as important, they were close, and I’d thrown all of that into chaos.

  “It’s still my fault,” I muttered. “She was so angry.”

  He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His warm, tender hand cupped my jaw, sending a tremble radiating throughout me.

  “Stop,” he said with a gentle tone. “Don’t apologize for things you had nothing to do with.”

  Our gazes remained locked. It was the first time I’d peered into his eyes without another intent lingering in the background, the first time I’d seen the warm, chocolate color they were in the midday light. They were beautiful, but in a different way than I’d expected.

  Until that point, Michele had dripped sex, been the tangible manifestation of my fantasies. He’d held a level of beauty greatly influenced by those factors. But standing in the parlor with the quiet rumble of the distant engine, the soft touch on my cheek, my view of him had changed.

  My heart swelled and lips parted with a breath. Something was different, but I didn’t know what it was.

  Then it ended. As though a hypnotist had clicked his fingers, Michele blinked the fond emotion from his eyes, though a smile appeared across his lips. He lowered his hand, returning it to his pocket.

  “I should let you get back to work, Miss Hurst.”

  My nod was slow, but I’d managed, and with a bow of his head, he regained his seat.

  Not sure of what’d happened or what’d flickered between us in that moment, I separated myself from him as quickly as I could. My crush was getting out of control, twisting things in my head and causing me to read deeper into them than I should.

  The sooner we got to shore the better.

  * * * *

  For the rest of our journey to Venice, Michele and I shared glances, glimpses of something unsaid, but his expression remained unreadable. It’d been blank, emotionless and unsettling.

  I suspected news of what’d happened with Yasmin had trickled through everyone on the ship, and he’d received a fair bit of the blame. My only evidence had been how his family eyed me when I brought them something to eat or drink, or how they’d suddenly stop speaking whenever I, not anyone else, was within earshot.

  There was an unsettling atmosphere that surrounded the Sacchi family now, one I had a harder time identifying than I’d expected. The only thing I knew for certain was they didn’t like me.

  Our families have known one another for a long time.

  I set right what should have been dealt with long ago.

  His words sifted through my head, hints as to how much I’d fucked up whatever their plans might have been. Maybe she and Michele were supposed to end up together? They seemed like that sort of family, the kind that would arrange attachments like the royals. Maybe they’d dated before, and she was hoping to rekindle? They were familiar enough with one another that it’d been a possibility.

  Jesus Christ, what had I done?

  * * * *

  Around six that evening, The Silver Wind pulled into the dock, and the deckhands dashed around the ship, a choreographed ballet of people who brought us in and secured the monolith to the prescribed parking spot.

  As we had when they’d arrived, the crew lined up along the deck to bid farewell to the passengers. We never spoke to them, but I suppose it was meant to be polite or maybe a formal remnant of the past.

  One by one the Sacchi family sauntered off the ship and onto the dock while stewards who weren’t with the rest of us set their luggage on the pristine wooden slat, only to have them scooped up by men in black suits. None of them glanced at me, not even Dominic.

  The last to leave, Michele spoke to the others and nodded at something I couldn’t hear. Thick, burly men who seemed more the bodyguard type than bellhops retrieved the luggage and waited behind the patriarchs. They set off not long after, but he remained. Rubbing his hand over his stubble-ridden chin, Michele glanced back at me. Like he had the first day and every one since, he found me without having to search the other faces, as though he knew exactly where I’d be.

  A breath passed, my heart thumping away to an unsteady rhythm.

  Without a word, he dipped his chin to me in a silent farewell. A sad smile flittered at the corners of my lips, and I returned the sentiment. He walked off a second later, bringing up the rear of the retreating party.

  The moment the passengers were gone, the crew split apart and began the task of cleaning the ship. There was no immediate charter after the Sacchis, but protocol had to be maintained.

  “Hey.” Kennia’s voice caused me to turn while I headed for the aft deck. She smiled at me, hooking her elbow with mine. “You all righ’?”

  I nodded and cleared the lump out of my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  I doubted she believed me, but she didn’t press. “So, you stayin’ on the ship or what?”

  “No. I’m going to get a hotel then fly out from there.”

  “Okay. Well, guess that means we should get to work so we can get outta here in the mornin’.”

  Flashing another dazzling smile, she set off with the rest of the deckhands while I broke apart with the stewards. With no clients, the cleaning was uninterrupted, but that also meant we were scrubbing the ship to within an inch of its life, erasing every memory of the Sacchi family.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After saying my farewells to the crew and thanking them for the chance to work, I took my things and headed off the ship with plans to meet Kennia later for sightseeing. I couldn’t say whether or not I’d ever be asked to return, given how things had ended between the clients and me, but I would’ve liked the chance to work with them again. The people on The Silver Wind were fun and welcoming.

  The walk toward shore was longer than I’d expected it to be, winding this way and that, weaving through million-dollar boats that ranged from motored to sail. Until the six-mile mark, I hadn’t realized we were tied so far back.

  While that was an exaggeration, it was close to a half mile from where we’d docked to the gate that cut me off from the city of Venice, but I hadn’t made it quite there before being stopped in my tracks.

  How does he do that?

  Michele hesitated in step as well, staring at me as though he hadn’t expected to stumble across me at that moment. Fair enough. I hadn’t expected to see him, either.

  “Miss Hurst, hello,” he said when we reached one another.

  “Hi,” I muttered. “Um… Did…” My brain struggled. “Uh, did you forget something on the ship? Or…”

  Was I supposed to offer to help him? Was I supposed to get him something to eat?

  As stupid as it might’ve sounded, I didn’t know how to interact with Michele outside of the environment of the yacht. My only other interaction had been at Labyrinth. We had assigned roles. I knew how to behave then. Standing with him on the dock? No idea.

  His gaze danced over me, from my civilian clothing to the bag hanging from my shoulder, and his brows creased.

  “You’re leaving?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” His expression dropped and it made me a little sad to see. “But everyone is. They’ll only be here long enough to restock and relax for a little while, then take another charter.”

  “The ship isn’t going anywhere.”

  My head cocked. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because it’s ours. We intended to bring it to Venice to stay.”

  The words were there, hanging in the air for me to hear.

  I stared at him, my eyes narrowed in confusion, unable to absorb such a simple sentence. Michele seemed unaffected by it, staring back at me with his hands in his pockets, the picture of ease and relaxation. My gaze drifted back in the direction of the boat then to him once again.

  “That thing is yours?”

  Michele nodded. “My family’s, but yes.”

  “I-I thought you were just a charter.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “So you’re telling me that you own that, a vessel that costs more than half a million dollars to rent a week. You just…own it.”

  “Yes. We rent it out from time to time, but it belongs to us,” he said, brows furrowing while he stared at me. “Are you all right?”

  I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know. To rent a yacht so large, Michele or his family must have had a substantial bank account. There would’ve been no other way for them to be the clientele without plenty of zeros.

  That being said, there was a vast difference between renting something like The Silver Wind and owning it. The general population liked to assume that when a boat was docked, the expenses for it ended and they could save some cash while it wasn’t on open water. Wrong. Even when not in use, a yacht, especially a super-yacht, cost the owner hundreds of thousands of dollars a year in maintenance, docking fees, licensing, inspections and crew costs.

  Who had that as a disposable income?

  “Who are you people?”

  The question had come out more accusatory than I meant, ruder, but Michele remained his usual composed self.

  “We have a very old family.”

  I narrowed my eyes. That must’ve been the vaguest reply I’d ever received from someone before. Everyone came from an old family. There was no way to exist otherwise, but he’d said it in a way that told me he thought the answer was enough to explain everything. For some, perhaps, but not me. I let him think it had been, though.

  “Okay, then,” I muttered, unsure of how to proceed.

  “So, you see, you and the others are free to enjoy Venice. The ship won’t be leaving for some time.”

  The prospect of staying in one of the most historically beautiful cities in the world did excite me enough that I cared less and less about Michele owning a multimillion-dollar yacht.

  But as the plans formed and I thought about the gondola rides, the hikes around the city, the food and the culture, I remembered something that should have been painfully obvious. My heart sank and took with it all of my joy.

  “I can’t,” I said. “My paperwork is only for this trip.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That I have to leave soon. I’m on a work visa.”

  I couldn’t recall the official length of my stay without checking my papers, but my working visa hadn’t been for much longer than the trip. That’d been why I was hired. I wasn’t full-time crew, so I wasn’t afforded the same privileges.

  Michele’s expression remained stoic. He mulled over something then retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and searched for a number.

  Placing the phone to his ear, he proceeded to have a brisk but firm conversation with whoever had answered the other end of the line. He gave concise orders that I couldn’t understand.

  I should really learn some damn Italian.

  When he’d finished the call, Michele returned his phone and hands to his pockets. He smiled at me rather smugly.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “It appears we will be requiring your service for another two weeks.”

  I stared at him, my eyes wide.

  “You should be receiving a phone call shortly.”

  True to his word, my cell phone rang a moment later. When I answered it, I was surprised to hear the voice of the woman I’d spoken to from the agency, the one who’d arranged my job on The Silver Wind.

  She told me that the charter had been extended and until Janice had fully recovered, they’d need me to continue my stay. I stared at Michele the entire conversation, watched as satisfaction crossed his features.

  The agent said that she would email me the paperwork momentarily and that I was to sign it and send it back. It’d be processed, and I would be free to remain with the ship until the two weeks ended or Janice returned, whichever came first. We hung up shortly after.

  “I don’t know if I should be impressed you can get things done that fast or freaked out.”

  The smugness disappeared, melting away until only sincerity remained, and I somehow found it more uncomfortable than the arrogance. It was sweet, even.

  “Why?” I asked.

  He cocked his head again, his brows pooling together. “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to keep me here? It doesn’t make sense.”

  A strange sensation tickled the back of my neck, an uncertainty that I hadn’t felt for a long time. It was as though a spotlight had been shone on me, shining brighter than the sun and robbing me of a chance to conceal anything.

  He saw me. I wasn’t a steward or some masked woman in a club. I was me, and he saw me.

  “You don’t know anything about me. You’ve only seen me at work. You don’t know what kind of books I like to read, the kind of music I listen to or if I’m allergic to anything. All you know is how I like to play.” The words tumbled forward. “Why would you go through the trouble of reserving the crew for another two weeks?”

  “I’d like to get to know you.”

  “Why?”

  My level of confusion was met, but for an entirely different reason.

  “Because I’d like to,” he replied.

  “Trust me. It’s not worth it.”

  His brow rose high. “You have a very low opinion of yourself.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t manage.

  Do I?

  I’d always thought that my self-deprecating behavior had been on par with a normal person’s. I didn’t hate myself, but I, more than anyone, was well aware that I wasn’t special enough for him to have gone out of his way like that. It didn’t make sense to me.

  Michele stepped forward, pulling me out of my thoughts and forcing me to focus on him.

  “May I walk you to the ship?”

  “No,” I answered quicker than I’d intended. “I mean, I’ve already booked a hotel room, so I might as well use it.”

  He nodded. “May I walk you to your hotel?”

  An answer hadn’t immediately come to mind, caught in the web of contradicting reasons and fumbling to escape so I could speak, but I knew what I wanted.

  “I’d like that, thanks.”

  He smiled again, and it’d been just as warm as the last.

  He held out his hand, silently asking for my bag, and while part of me wanted to childishly declare that I could hold my own luggage, I wasn’t so proud to refuse the kind gesture.

  Sliding it off my shoulder, he took it and looped it over his much broader one, then offered me a bent arm. Much like I did with Kennia, I looped mine around it, though, unlike when I was with her, I trembled inside.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Michele and I walked through the cobblestoned streets of Venice, along the canals and through the buildings guided by his knowledge of the city, though the maps app had been brought up for added insurance.