“Tell me your rules, bella,” he whispered, “so that I may play your game.”

  My refusal until that point had been for multiple reasons, but the longer Michele touched me, the more he plucked at the strings of my sanity and played into everything I had always craved, the harder it became for me to say nothing. A human being could only deny their wants for so long.

  The words bubbled within my throat, ready to come to the surface when a commotion reminded us both of the real world. With his back to the doors leading out, Michele protected what we were doing from sight for the few seconds it took for me to slip out of his hands. I could have sworn I heard him growl in displeasure.

  Someone spoke to him, but I didn’t bother turning around to see who. Instead, I retreated to the shadows of the yacht to collect myself.

  Chapter Six

  On a charter, there were no days off. The staff was at the mercy of the clients, so instead of days off, there were staggered shifts. But every once in a while, the passengers wanted to dock for a day or two, which was the closest thing the crew got to a weekend.

  When that happened, we tended to barter. We would trade hours among ourselves like cigarettes in prison.

  I’ll take two hours of overnight if you give me two hours midday.

  If done right, a person could get a nice chunk of free time at prime hours to experience the world outside the yacht, to set foot on dry land. And Ryan might have been an amazing chef, but sometimes you just had to experience the local cuisine.

  There was no substituting real life.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

  Kennia raced through our bunk like a whirlwind, a mini tornado of energy that threatened to sweep everything away.

  “Calm down. Just give me a second.” I couldn’t help but giggle at her.

  Kennia spun on her heel and stared me down in spite of having to look up.

  “I’ve only got four hours, alrigh’. I’m not wastin’ ’em.”

  “Really?” Rather smugly, I added, “I’ve got all day.”

  If looks could kill.

  Kennia stared at me, narrowing her eyes. The usually kind, soft-brown color of them had noticeably darkened.

  “How the hell’d you manage that?”

  My smugness faltered a bit. “I may have to work twelve hours straight.”

  “Pft, ha!”

  I didn’t think it was possible for a person to laugh as hard as she did in that moment. Her sides should have split open, but it didn’t bother me. I got to spend all day in Hvar, Croatia, a place I’d never been and without that job would never go to.

  And I would be away from Michele.

  After our interlude in the dining room, it’d become more and more clear that nothing good would happen when we were alone. The rules I lived by, the ones that kept me from being fired and blacklisted in the stewarding world, were morphing into guidelines, and if I kept too close to the man, they’d become nothing more than faint remnants, thoughts that were easily dismissed.

  I had to put distance between the Italian Adonis and myself. Jesus Christ, one might’ve mistaken me for a simpering little girl whenever he was around and, honestly, it didn’t feel like that was far from the truth.

  So I negotiated my ass off. I would worry about the exhaustion and consequences later.

  * * * *

  There were no words to describe Hvar. The moment I set foot on shore, I understood why so many wealthy people and celebrities visited.

  Kennia’s schedule made me laugh, but I understood it, too. She had a few hours to experience the island during the day, and she intended to do so to the fullest.

  The beaches were first on the itinerary.

  When she sported a white bathing suit that glowed against her dark skin, there hadn’t been a pair of eyes Kennia didn’t draw in. But she couldn’t have cared less, more than content to lie in the sun on the warm sand.

  In the years since I’d worked on a yacht, I’d lost the tan I once had. As a result, I bathed myself in sunscreen before joining her on a towel of my own. I remembered hearing as a kid that there was a scientific reason for why sunlight felt so good to lie in, but I couldn’t remember what it had been. Perhaps a vitamin of some sort.

  For a couple of hours, we played in the sand, the sun and the sea, until the time allotted had come to an end. Next came town. The moment she found out where we would be docking, Kennia had researched the perfect place to eat then shop.

  After a delicious lunch and watching Kennia attempt to politely reject a young man who didn’t speak English, we went shopping.

  A dozen small shops lined the streets. Some sold dinnerware and fancy champagne flutes. Some sold outrageously colored clothing, some artwork and jewelry. There appeared to be something for everyone and the perfect place for souvenirs.

  Kennia and I spent her last hour picking up things for family and friends. I did my best to get something for my sisters and mother when I traveled, a little trinket to let them know I was thinking about them. I found something for myself, too. An abstract painting of a woman’s face had been too pretty for me to pass up.

  Back on the ship, I did my best to stow my things while Kennia got dressed for her shift. She looked so disappointed. I would have traded some of my hours, but I had no idea how to do her job. She could’ve slid into mine easily, I had no doubt, but what did I know about working on the technical side of a yacht? Jack shit. There were cranks and release valves and gauges, things that could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to fix if done wrong. I didn’t feel like sinking the boat or making something explode.

  Wearing a dress of the non-leather variety, I gave myself a final once-over in the mirror to make sure my makeup hadn’t shifted and that my dark hair remained wavy. Curls were impossible. ‘Braid waves’ were the best I could manage.

  “Right, then,” Kennia muttered. I turned to see her staring at me despondently. “Well.” She clicked her heels together, standing straight-backed and saluting me. “Godspeed, soldier. Have a drink for me.”

  I snorted a laugh and pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay,” I said in a mocking voice. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

  She scoffed as we parted and gave me a look that said that’s a lie. I winked at her and left.

  * * * *

  The nightlife in Hvar had surprised me more than it should have. Logically, of course they had clubs and a thriving entertainment district. Given the high-profile people who vacationed there, why wouldn’t they? I had no idea why it shocked me.

  A few of the crew members who’d bargained that night off and I danced to our hearts’ content. There’d even been some alcohol, but we weren’t stupid. No one could call in sick the following day, so we didn’t go overboard.

  Sweat trickled down the side of my neck, tickling the baby hairs. I’d been dancing for so long that I needed a break. I was hot, flushed and my feet had begun to hurt an hour prior. I made sure the others knew I was walking away before I stepped outside so no one would worry, assuming they noticed I’d left at all.

  The ocean breeze hit me right in the face the second I was outside. The coolness of it brought immediate relief. Taking hold of the railing, I closed my eyes and relished it.

  But I couldn’t have been standing there for ten minutes before the air shifted. Opening my eyes, I spotted a stranger. He approached me, a smile on his lips. When he spoke, I couldn’t understand a single word of it.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t speak…” My words fell away. I didn’t know what the official language of Croatia was, but it didn’t seem to matter.

  “American, eh?” he asked in a very, very thick accent. I nodded. “Eh!” He happily held his arms out to the side, as though excited about the prospect. “How do you find Hvar?” he asked as he stepped closer.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Very romantic city, yes.” He stood beside me, shifting to look out at the sea. He was closer than I would have liked, but I tended to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially when our cultures varied. “The sea is lovely, yes?”

  He motioned toward the water. My gaze drifted. A decent amount of the bay had been visible from the club. The city lights glittered across the water and not far from the shore had been the dock where The Silver Wind was anchored, though there were far too many yachts for me to pick it out of the group at night.

  As we stood, me content in the silence, something touched me. His hand. It began at the base of my back then slowly, but surely, descended farther. I became rigid and turned my attention to him. He stared at me, a wide smile across his lips, which he promptly licked. I arched a brow, my brain struggling to comprehend the blatant groping.

  “Romantic, eh?” he asked again, his voice lower than before. To my horror, he proceeded to squeeze my ass.

  “Okay,” I sighed as I righted myself. I slapped his hand away and stepped back. “I’m going back inside.”

  I hadn’t taken two steps before he grabbed my wrist. When I looked at him again, the kind exterior had vanished. Cold, angry eyes stared at me. They didn’t appear human anymore.

  In the background, movement caught my attention. Two other men who hadn’t been there before appeared from the shadows. Their dark clothing helped them blend in, and they shared an expression similar to the handsy guy.

  This is bad. This is bad. This is so fucking bad.

  “You come with me, yes?”

  “Um, no.”

  Before he had the chance to react or I could think better of it, I reared back and swung. My fist made contact with his face, a sharp crack echoing in our immediate area.

  It stunned him into letting me go and seemed to have a similar effect on the henchmen. I immediately dashed back inside, running as best I could with my heels on.

  The crowd engulfed me, but I hardly felt safer for it. There would be no way for me to know whether or not the trio were human traffickers, but I had no intentions of finding out.

  I found Kyle at the bar and told him that I was returning to the ship. I also warned him of the guys, telling him to not let anyone out of his sight, because there were creepers about. When I knew he understood the gravity of the situation, I left.

  He might’ve called out for me to stay with the group, but over the music and my own nerves, I hadn’t heard it.

  Removing myself from the club would have been the best bet. I didn’t want the creepers to see me with my friends. It might have been presumptuous, but I felt like them seeing me with the other crew would give them ideas, that they might try to use me to get to them—or them to get to me.

  Brains concocted worst-case scenarios with a body full of adrenaline and weren’t known for thinking clearly.

  The moment I was out of the club, I slipped my heels off and clutched them tight. I wanted to be able to run or stab a bitch if I had to.

  The streets weren’t empty, for which I’d been grateful, though they didn’t offer me any true comfort, either. Ten people spread out over two blocks wasn’t much cover. But I kept my eyes peeled while my brisk walk continued down the path I’d taken to the club.

  A few blocks away from the port, I began to relax. I let myself slip into a calm that I shouldn’t have.

  A shuffling came from behind and I dared a glance back. My blood ran cold. The three men from the club had been following me for who-knew-how-long. They’d gone still when I’d spotted them.

  A tense moment passed between us then, as though someone had fired the starting gun at a race, we sprang into action.

  I charged down the street, small pebbles and uneven cobblestones biting into the balls of my feet. The bones in each foot throbbed as they smacked against the ground, but I kept running.

  Their grunting breaths grew louder and louder, their footsteps closer. Terror swept through me. At any moment I would be snatched up and taken somewhere, never to see my family or friends again.

  Rounding a corner so quickly that I stumbled, I spotted something that made my heart leap. Perhaps fifty yards away were Michele and Dominic with one of the older men. I didn’t know if he was Paulo or Vincent, and I didn’t care.

  I didn’t have time to register the confusion across Michele’s face while I ran for him, the wind stinging my eyes. His brows furrowed and his head cocked to the side as I raced toward them. Not a second later, his entire demeanor had changed. I could only assume he saw my pursuers.

  The next few seconds happened faster than most.

  When I reached Michele, I’d gained so much momentum going downhill that I couldn’t stop. He held out an arm, catching me by my midsection. I might have taken him to the ground with me if he hadn’t spun, defusing some of the energy in the process. He held me close while he faced the attackers again, a gun suddenly emerging from within his grasp. I didn’t know where it’d come from, and if my nerves weren’t tattered beyond repair, I might have been horrified that he had one, but in that moment, I couldn’t have been happier.

  The three creepers skidded to a stop and made sure to keep distance between them and the matte-black weapon Michele had leveled on them.

  “Eh,” the main creeper chuckled, panting from the run. “No worries, man. She is my girl. I need to take her home.”

  “No,” Michele said firmly.

  The creeper’s expression hardened. While I clung to Michele, fisting his expensive silk shirt and trembling against him, Dominic spoke to his cousin. The Italian flowed between the three. I had no idea what they’d said, but their attitude toward the pursuers changed drastically. A second gun emerged, held by Mr. Grabby himself, Dominic.

  “You should leave,” he said. It’d been the first time I’d ever heard Dominic speak English. I didn’t know he could.

  The three grumbled to one another in their native tongue until realizing they didn’t stand a chance and left. The tension lessened with each foot they put between us and them. When they disappeared, Michele and Dominic both lowered their weapons. Michele turned his attention to me.

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded repeatedly, far more than what would’ve been acceptable, but I’d lost control over small actions.

  “Yeah, no, fine,” I said, still nodding like a bobble head. “I just, I need to um, I wanna…” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

  Michele stowed his gun in his waistband and covered it with his shirt. He spoke to the others and a reluctant agreement seemed to be reached.

  “Come,” he said, unlatching me from his side and taking my arm. “I will take you back to the ship.”

  “Yeah, sure, okay.”

  We walked in silence for some time. Michele didn’t press me for details. He didn’t berate me with questions. Instead, he held my arm in his and guided me back to the yacht.

  I hadn’t spoken until we were on the dock and a large gate separated me from the streets of Hvar.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He glanced down at me with his brows creased in confusion. “For what?”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you guys were doing.” My voice quivered. A lump had formed at some point, and it scratched while I spoke. Tears were close at hand as the gravity of the situation began to sink in, but I wanted to get everything out first. “I know I surprised you, but I was running and running, then I saw you and I was so glad because maybe they’d stop chasing me, but you were there with your family, and I didn’t want to interrupt, but I didn’t know what to do, so I ran for you and—”

  During my rambling, the tears had come, and I began to cry. Reality had descended and I’d been forced to see how close I’d come to being hurt or worse. I only stopped speaking when Michele threw his arms around me, engulfing me in a tight embrace.

  “Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered while he hugged me.

  I clung to him, shaking like a frightened rabbit and clutching his shirt once more. I struggled to breathe while I buried my face in his chest.

  Michele threaded his fingers through my hair and cradled my head to him while he ran his other hand up and down the length of my back, doing his best to soothe me.

  Minutes ticked by and my grip on his shirt lessened. Soon, I held him as tenderly as he did me. My breathing had calmed, too, and I was no longer shaking like I had been.

  He rested his cheek on the top of my head, still caressing me when he spoke. “Do you feel better?”

  I nodded and relaxed. He let me step out of his arms. Before I looked up, I was sure to wipe away the tears I knew I’d spilled.

  Forcing a smile, I met his eye. “I’m fine.”

  Concern twisted his features. He didn’t seem to believe me outright, which made me wonder what I must have looked like. Perhaps I hadn’t removed as much of the fear as I thought I had.

  Michele reached forward and swept his fingers down my cheeks, wiping away the tears I must have missed. His brow remained furrowed, and his eyes darkened with worry when he met my stare.

  “Are you certain?”

  I lied once more, “Of course.”

  “Hmm.”

  He didn’t seem to believe me any more the second time, but he didn’t press, either. Offering me his arm, I took it and together we finished our trek to the ship.

  “Will you be all right on your own now?”

  I smiled internally. He’d walked me to the ship. I stood less than six feet from the deck, and he remained concerned for my well-being.

  “I’ll be fine, yeah,” I said. “Um, thank you, though. I really appreciate you walking me back.”

  A very sweet and kind smile formed across his lips. Michele took my hands in his and kissed my knuckles.

  “Buona notte, Miss Hurst.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Sacchi.”

  I turned and climbed onto the yacht. Glancing over my shoulder when I had, I’d expected to see Michele already making his way to land, but he hadn’t moved. He remained where he was, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched me. He had waited to make sure I was all right.