Heat took my cheeks. I offered him a smile, a nod of the head, then disappeared through the door to the staff hallway. It passed a window as it descended. Through the small porthole, I saw Michele finally begin to walk away.

  A wider smile than before touched my lips. Mr. Sacchi seemed a very sweet person, and there were no words to describe how grateful I’d been for him walking those streets. The reality of what might have happened otherwise didn’t bear thinking about. I owed him a lot.

  Chapter Seven

  Coming home early the previous night had given me the chance for a few extra hours of sleep. Or, at least it would have had I been able to fall asleep. The truth was I couldn’t, no matter how I’d tried. I’d remained pent-up and anxious over the what-ifs when it came to my run-in with the creepers.

  By the time my shift came around at eleven o’clock that morning, I could have fallen asleep standing up. It didn’t bode well for me.

  But I did my job to the best of my ability. I smiled when the moment called for it, served the food and drinks without spillage and made sure that no one on the outside could see how utterly exhausted I’d become by three in the afternoon.

  When given the chance for my first break, I ducked into an alcove where I was out of the way, set my alarm and dared to close my eyes. I didn’t know I’d fallen asleep until someone woke me up.

  My arms flailed and terror shot through me. As my vision cleared, I saw Chris standing a few feet back, his hands up and eyes wide in shock.

  “Jesus,” I sighed as I slumped in my seat. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, well, your alarm’s been going off for a bit. Helped me find you.”

  “Shit, what time is it?” It’d been rhetorical so he hadn’t replied. I found my phone and looked at the time. My heart sank. I’d been asleep for half an hour. My alarm must have been going off for nearly fifteen minutes, and I hadn’t heard it. “Damn it.”

  I shot to my feet and raced by Chris, thanking him in passing for waking me up. His laughter followed me.

  By the time I made it to the galley, the other stewards were already lined up. Mrs. Thorne had been in the middle of giving the rundown of what would happen for drinks and dinner. She noticed me right away, and I doubted she found the smile I plastered across my face convincing.

  She didn’t even pause and continued with the speech then dismissed us. Like the ballet we’d become over the last week or so, we went to work serving pre-dinner drinks. We glided through the clients, taking empty glasses and replacing them with the fresh. All the while, I stole glances at Michele.

  He’d look in my direction, too—peer through his lashes while he attempted to remain in conversation or blatantly look at me. Each time, my heart would flutter. My opinion of him had begun to change after the previous night. I no longer saw him as just sexy or intimidating. He was now kindhearted as well. If anything, that only helped his initial allure.

  * * * *

  The night had been uneventful, seamless. Everything had gone as it was supposed to, which meant that I could devote my time to cleaning the main floor of the yacht. I had been left to myself to do so. The sheer square footage of the ship meant that we hardly saw the clients unless directly interacting with them or sought out. Being docked meant the likelihood of that had been reduced further. And yet…

  I’d been in the middle of vacuuming the main living area, the one that overlooked the aft deck and shared space with the dining room, when Michele appeared in the hall. He hadn’t materialized within the shadows as he tended to, which I appreciated.

  Stepping on the power button, I turned the vacuum off.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sacchi,” I said politely. “Would you like me to leave?” He might have wanted to sit in the living room in peace.

  “No.” He shook his head and continued to approach.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  He shook his head again and finally reached me in the center of the living room. His gaze danced over me for a moment.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  I blushed, the warmth taking my cheeks in an instant and roaming down my neck. The high collar of my shirt would prevent him from seeing my chest turning red, too.

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “But I don’t know if I thanked you last night. I really appreciate you helping me out.”

  His eyes brightened with a smile that spread across his lips a second later. “You did,” he said with a gentle head tilt. “And you are most welcome.”

  We lingered, neither offering the other anything in the way of conversation. Awkwardness seeped in, though I had no idea if he felt it, too. It could have been just me.

  Then I spoke and I wished to hell I hadn’t.

  Just as Michele shifted to walk away, before he’d even rotated his body, I blurted out, “Do you still want to know my rules?”

  The words flowed from me so quickly that they sounded like one.

  When Michele turned to me once more, his eyes had darkened. He arched a brow.

  My heart lodged itself within my throat. How could I have asked that? How could I have brought that up again?

  It seemed that for every step forward Michele and I took toward having any kind of professional relationship, I would do something that set us a thousand steps back and closer to breaking every guideline there was to working on a yacht.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice having changed tone.

  Well, you brought it up. Can’t back out now, dumbass.

  Michele waited patiently for me to overcome my internal struggle. I managed to reason with myself, though the argument had been lacking. Pretending that it was best he knew my rules so he wouldn’t overstep meant nothing. In the end, it gave him the perfect blueprint of how to fuck with me if he so chose, and given our previous interactions, there had been no proof that he wouldn’t choose to again.

  “Okay, um, no marks I can’t hide.” Might as well get right into it. “I have to work, so I need to be able to cover up anything with clothes or makeup.”

  “Fair.”

  “If I say my safeword, you have to stop. Until that point, anything within reason is fair game.”

  “And what is your safe word?”

  “Kumquat.”

  He blinked a few times and struggled to hide a grin but didn’t succeed very well.

  “Kumquat,” he said monotone.

  I nodded. “It’s a funny word, and I like sour fruit.”

  “All right,” he chuckled. “Anything else?”

  “If I can’t speak, you have to get my consent.”

  His smirk faded and a serious expression took over. “An example?”

  “If we’re doing something, then you gag me,” I said, pausing when a shiver raced through me at the thought. “Then, if you’re going to change it up, going to do something different, I just want you to make sure it’s okay with me, first.”

  “Agreed,” he said without hesitation. My relief had been immediate. For whatever reason, that seemed to be the one rule nearly every one of my partners either forgot…or forgot.

  “Number Four is…protection is a must. No exceptions.”

  His wicked little smirk returned and mischief flickered in his eye. “Are you asking me to fuck you, Miss Hurst?”

  Another wave of shivers tore through me so completely that I couldn’t keep from visibly shuddering. To hear the words come from his mouth had been, without a doubt, one of the sexiest things I’d heard in a long time.

  “And finally, Number Five.” I chose to ignore his question. Somehow I knew he already had my answer. “No kissing.”

  His brows twitched together, and he cocked his head to the side. I couldn’t tell if the rule surprised him or just confused him.

  “It’s too intimate,” I said. “You kiss people you’re in love with, not the people you play with.”

  Michele nodded in understanding.

  I shifted in my spot, wringing my hands on the handle of the vacuum and doing my best to gain the courage to ask.

  “What about you?”

  Michele approached at a languid pace, casual in every sense of the word. I wondered if he’d done so to put me at ease or to fool me into thinking he had to consider his rules. If he had any, he knew them without question.

  When he stood over me, he met my eye. “I haven’t needed them, yet.”

  His answer shocked me. “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “So, you don’t have any preferences?”

  His smirk appeared once more. “I didn’t say that. Tell me, bella. Can you be a brat?”

  I arched a single brow. Everything in me tingled at the prospect. I hadn’t met a good brat tamer yet, but if anyone had the makings, it would be Michele Sacchi.

  “On a scale of one to ten.”

  He thought it over for a moment. “Perhaps, given the location, a five would be best.”

  Nodding, I replied, “I can be a five.” Though, in reality, I could have easily been a ten, as well.

  He smiled wide, either pleased with my response or already thinking of ways to test me.

  “Perfetto,” he said. “Good evening, Miss Hurst.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Sacchi.”

  He walked away, disappearing down the hall and leaving me to do my work. Before another distraction could emerge, I turned on the vacuum and resumed my chores.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered if the brat relationship would work on the ship. It might, but it might not. There were plenty of eyes on The Silver Wind, so I couldn’t be outwardly rude to Michele. My teasing and taunting would have to be done in private, if possible.

  The prospect excited me, though. Who didn’t love a little bit of punishment for misbehaving?

  Wait… Didn’t I have rules about him? Guidelines?

  Chapter Eight

  Earlier that morning, Captain Gus took us from the Hvar port, and a small part of me had been grateful for it. When I woke up after the deepest sleep I’d ever managed on a ship, I found us anchored in the middle of the Adriatic Sea. Kennia told me that we weren’t far from the coast of San Marino.

  It’d been a normal morning until ten o’clock. A call went out over the walkie-talkies stating that we were expecting visitors. It wasn’t uncommon for one yacht to hail another, but I hadn’t anticipated what I saw.

  Being ferried over from another ridiculous floating mansion was a small gaggle of young women and a very stern-looking older gentleman. His expression told me he’d long since reached his patience limit with them.

  A couple of the deckhands met them at the sea deck and tied off the boat, helping everyone aboard. I had a sinking feeling that I couldn’t quite identify, and it bothered me greatly.

  The Gaggle could be heard long before they emerged. The young woman in the lead was incredible, absolutely stunning and clearly aware of the fact. Every bleached lock had been sprayed into perfect curls, her tan expertly contoured over her fit body, which she chose to show off with a bikini, and her makeup likely cost more than the whole of my on-board wardrobe.

  Her friends appeared to be quite similar to her, though their hair had been less blonde so as not to detract from their leader’s golden glow. To my mind, they seemed to be her background, her ‘yes men’.

  Why are there always three?

  Michele and his group rose to meet the newcomers. Dominic seemed overjoyed, throwing his arms around Thing One’s and Thing Two’s necks and kissing them on each cheek. He hadn’t been shy about grabbing their asses, either. Unlike the staff, they seemed to appreciate the attention.

  Michele didn’t share his cousin’s exuberance but remained polite when the leader looped her arms around him and planted her painted lips on his. My brows rose before I could stop them, guided by the shock and agitation of seeing him kiss someone.

  Stop it, stupid. He’s not yours just ’cuz you’ve played together.

  He cradled her waist as they parted after the brief kiss. She swooned against him, pressing her undoubtedly expensive breasts into his chest. I didn’t like her, didn’t like the kind of person I assumed her to be and her name didn’t help matters.

  “Boungiorno, Yasmin.”

  She beamed and giggled. “Hello, Mickey.”

  He winced at the nickname but forced a smile, regardless.

  The elder gentleman approached the group, and the level of respect he received told me he was an important individual.

  After being ignored for some time, we stewards were flagged down and drink orders were given. While the addition of four new bodies brought the total list of passengers to ten, The Silver Wind and her crew were more than capable of handling it. We could do our jobs.

  Ten guests kept us on our toes, however, forcing us to weave in and out of one another as some brought drinks, others cleared them away and some of us brought snacks. We had become a team of dancers once again—but wearing much less impressive outfits.

  Days like that would end who-knew-when, which irritated some of us, but there was nothing that could be done. We were at work, after all.

  * * * *

  My lunch break had been a nap, something to get me through the day because, much to my dismay, Yasmin and her flock were staying for a while. I had to prepare myself for more time around them.

  I didn’t outwardly hate the trio, but their personalities and mine clashed. They were bright and loud, showing off everything that they were and grabbing attention where they could. I’d always been a much more subdued person, less flashy. It wasn’t their fault they irked me, so I would be polite, kind and bend over backward for them, regardless.

  The three of them kept us busy. It became clear from the jump that Yasmin had been the sort of woman who had been handed everything in life. She had the attitude of a person who’d grown up not with a silver spoon in her mouth but with a platinum one. She barked orders, accepted no hesitation with delivery and seemed to delight in lording her power over the staff. I’d worked for a couple of people like that before. While most might ignore the worker bees, some enjoyed reminding them of their place on the ladder. Yasmin was one of those.

  Mrs. Thorne had given me directions to make up two of the smaller cabins for Thing One and Thing Two. I’d have called them by their names, but no one seemed to know them. They were simply Yasmin’s entourage.

  I didn’t like that I only had to make up two rooms. In the back of my mind, a voice told me that it meant Yasmin would be bunking with Michele. Given how she’d hung on him since her arrival, it seemed a fair assumption. It made me queasy, and I maintained that it had nothing to do with jealousy. It’d been because Yasmin was horrible, in spite of my lack of evidence.

  Each of the rooms was given a quick turn down, the pillows fluffed and the mirrors polished. I dripped essential oil onto small pads and hid them beneath furniture in the corners of the rooms, allowing them to fill the spaces with a soft scent of roses, and I made sure the bathrooms were stocked with toiletries.

  I spent an hour or better doing it, meticulous and careful because I had no doubt that they would find a staff member and yell about inadequate preparations.

  Besides, I did actually enjoy my job.

  When I left down the corridor, I’d nearly made it to the hidden staff stairwell that would take me to the below deck when someone grabbed me. The suddenness of it left me breathless as I was shoved against the wall and pinned in place.

  Panting, I looked up into the dark eyes of Michele. He’d appeared from nowhere again, hiding in another room, waiting to grab me.

  “Have you been avoiding me?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  “No, sir,” I replied, sure to instill the proper hesitation. I assumed he wanted to play.

  He reached up and held my jaw. “I don’t believe you.”

  I jerked out of his grasp, glaring at him when I said, “I don’t care what you believe.”

  I’d barely had the chance to turn and take a step when he grabbed me again, much harsher than before. My heart skipped and my stomach filled with butterflies while he held my throat, pushing me into the wall like before. My pulse raced beneath his fingers.

  “Did I say you could leave?” he asked through his teeth. I shook my head. “You will go when I say you can go.” I nodded. “Say it.”

  “Yes,”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “That’s better.” He cooed the words.

  Still holding tight, he glided his other hand down my cheek and to my chest. He brought it up under my breast and squeezed hard. My breath caught in my throat.

  He watched himself massaging me and pinching my nipple through the fabric. Running his bottom lip through his teeth, he squeezed me again.

  “Your nipples are already hard,” he said gruffly. Michele met my eye. “Doesn’t take much, does it?”

  He seemed willing to leap right into the game, and I had been just as willing to follow.

  I didn’t reply. As though testing his previous assumption, he reached for my other breast and gave it the same attention as the first. I gasped, and he grinned.

  “I wonder, are you wet, bella?” he asked with a taunting tone.

  Remaining as defiant as I could, I replied, “No.”

  I was.

  Michele clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval. With his gaze locked to mine, he used a single hand to unbutton my shorts just like before. I remained motionless, my body vibrating with anticipation.

  At an agonizing pace, he guided his hand beyond the waistband and beneath my panties. His jaw went lax, parting his lips on a breath. The instant he slid his digit across my folds and felt the dampness, Michele flinched. He curled his lips back while he fought a growl. I did my best to remain stoic, but I desperately wanted to fall apart.

  “You’re a liar,” he said. “Do you know what I do to liars?” I shook my head. “I punish them.”

  His strong digit traced multiple circles over my clit, applying the perfect pressure, but moving at a slow, taunting pace. He continued to toy with me, to caress me without giving me the pleasure I craved. My pussy ached, my clit throbbing and begging for the relief that I hoped wouldn’t come.