Chapter 10

TEN

In T-minus eighteen hours, it’s showtime. Lined up on the dock in a long row of similarly dressed crew members, two of Mr. Cassiano’s muscle-bound brutes give us orders for our weekend cruise. Tomorrow morning, we upgrade from his two-stateroom yacht to a small luxury cruise ship with enough staterooms to sleep twenty-six. The two female hires and I are in charge of keeping the new visitors comfortable, with whatever means necessary, as the rest of the crew keep everything else running smoothly. At no surprise to me, we’re the only females working this cruise. The rest are trusted male employees of Mr. Cassiano’s, including Romeo and his two sous chefs.

“We will all meet back here at six a.m. sharp,” the tallest of the men instructs, reading from a clipboard. “You will have the rest of today off to pack a bag and get a good night’s rest. Everything you bring aboard will be inspected for safety and confidentiality reasons. Unless you’re given permission, cell phones or other electronic devices will not be permitted on board.”

In other words, they don’t want photos leaked or us calling for help when shit pops off. Which it will. It’s an illegal auction of literal humans. Not that I’m supposed to know that. Neither are the two other female employees. It’s just a party for the rich with their companions—that’s the schtick they're selling us. Let’s see how well these other two take the news once they see it’s an auction. I’m prepared for anything—from naked, drugged-up women to a vile sex cult party. You never know what’ll happen. With Dark present as millionaire Maxim Drake, at least I know he’ll have my back.

After handing each of us over our assignments in packet form, we’re dismissed, and I walk straight to my favorite coffee shop at the boardwalk for a tea and warm chocolate croissant. Carrying my fresh matcha and buttery pastry to a small booth in the corner, I’m so engrossed in reading the paperwork that I nearly knock over my drink when Romeo claims the seat across from me with a coffee and a smirk.

“Hola,” he greets, sipping from the edge of his to-go cup.

I rasp a choppy, “Hello,” clutching my chest.

Romeo good-naturedly chuckles at my discomfort. “Sorry I startled you.”

Shaking my head, I wave him off. “It’s okay. I was focused.”

“Riveting, hmm?” He nods toward the paperwork.

“It’s a lot.” I slap the thick stack of papers on the tabletop.

Leaning in, Romeo sets his cup to the side and urges me closer with the crook of his finger. I follow his movements, curious what he has to say. “That packet won’t tell you…” Romeo whispers, looking at the instructions between us. “But you need to stay away from the visitors. Keep a low profile. If you think El Jefe’s parties were… bad before.” His dark eyes bore into mine. “This weekend… extra bad. Comprende ?”

Pressing my lips together, eyes widening for show, I nod once. “Yes. I understand.”

“You need me. You come. I’ll keep you safe.” Having said what he needed to say, Romeo sits back in his seat and drinks his coffee.

“Thank you,” I reply, and I mean it. I believe Romeo when he claims he wants to keep me safe. There’s a reason he’s been extra nice the past week. Since I returned from my weekend visit with my sons, the chef has cooked for me nonstop, to the point he sent me home with leftovers, which he’s never done before. Romeo’s treating me like they do when they send pigs off to be slaughtered. You fatten them up. In this case, I sense it’s the guilt because he knows what’s coming—to be killed or sold. Those are my options. If only he knew the truth. But he will soon enough.

In companionable silence, I read, drink, and nibble on my pastry as Romeo watches me and other patrons mill about the café. When I’m through, we depart together, and he escorts me like a gentleman back to my apartment complex, where I don’t invite him inside.

Standing outside the security gate, I wring my hands together, chew the inside of my cheek, and stare up at him shyly. This is what I do. I know I’m playing my part to a T when Romeo steps in, and I step back until I’m pinned against the gate. He’s in my space, staring down at my lips as if he can’t decide if he wants to fuck them or kiss them. His nostrils flare wide as he inhales and grips the bars on either side of my head.

“Romeo.” I faux shiver as he presses in further to show me what I’m doing to his body.

Romeo squeezes his eyes shut and groans as if his name upon my lips pains him.

I trail the tip of my finger down the side of his neck. “Romeo.” I speak his name like a prayer, and he stiffens, blowing out a frustrated breath, fanning my face in the fragrant black coffee as if he’s battling an internal war. There is no fraternization allowed between employees. That was made clear the day I took this job. I’m sure it’s also been made clear to Romeo, given how long he has worked for Mr. Cassiano.

Growling under his breath, Romeo leans down and drags the tip of his nose up the side of my cheek. I shiver when his lips pause at my temple, and he whispers, “Be safe and remember, come to me.” Then he’s gone, striding away as if it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. I watch him go to be sure he won’t see the code I punch into the gate as I return to my apartment, wearing the biggest smile. Not because I’m into Romeo, because I’m not, but because he’s into me, and that’s a win. This isn’t like the stalkers. This is mission security. This is having an unlikely ally. Even with Dark on board, I can’t guarantee my own safety, but with Romeo on my side, I’ve got a little extra backup, just in case.

Will I share this newfound knowledge with Dark? Nope. This is between me and Romeo.

My personal cell phone rings as soon as I set my purse on the kitchen counter.

Rolling my eyes, I collect it from the nightstand in my bedroom and answer it without looking at the screen. “Stop checking the cameras, Dark. It’s creepy.”

“Who was the man at the gate, Kali?” he seethes.

Dragging a hand down my face, I sit on the edge of my mattress and sigh. “Of course, you also put cameras outside my apartment, you fuckin’ stalker.”

“Answer the question, Kali.”

“That’s the head chef, Romeo. Shouldn’t you already know that?”

“He almost fuckin’ kissed you.”

“But he didn’t.”

“His lips touched you.”

“I’m hanging up now, Dark.”

“Kali. Is there something going on there?”

Sheesh. This man needs to get a grip.

I bark a sharp, awkward laugh. “I’m working a job with my nosy, overprotective ex-husband, who is basically stalking me. I can’t even change my clothes outside of my bathroom because of the cameras he installed inside my apartment because he’s a control freak .”

“You can, too, change your clothes,” he defends, as if that’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard me say.

“No. I can’t,” I argue.

“I’ve already seen all of you naked, babe. Or did you forget you’re my wife?”

Ugh!

“Shut up, Dark. I was your wife. I’m not anymore. I don’t know how many more times I have to remind you of that. And I’m not letting you see any of me naked if I can help it.”

“Kali.”

“I’m hanging up. I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember?”

“Please be safe.”

“I am.”

“No more seducing men. That’s not part of the assignment,” he scolds.

“Goodbye, Dark.” Rolling my eyes for what feels like the billionth time, I hang up before he can say another word, and then I fling myself on the mattress dramatically. Can he see me? Sure, he can. The fucker probably watches me sleep like the crazy stalker he’s become.

I’ll be glad once this assignment is over and I can return to my normal life—watching movies with Lily, eating popcorn, running my shop, and taking care of my plants—back to the simple, relaxing life, back to sleeping in my own bed and seeing Sunshine.

Speaking of Sunshine.

Swiping through my texts, I ignore the litany of nonsense from Dark and click Sunshine’s thread.

Him: Play it smart this weekend. You’ve got this. Miss you, Sweets.

Me: Miss you, too. Are you coming to visit next weekend?

Him: I wouldn’t miss it.

Me: What are you doing right now?

Him: Rubbing the last amethyst you gave me.

Pressing my lips together, I stave off a smile as my stomach swirls with weird, girlish emotions at the fact he's using the crystal I gave him. Not that I expected anything different. As I’ve said before, Sunshine has a cup full of them in his van. But it’s the little things like him reminding me he’s using them, that they matter to him, it feels… nice. Well, maybe nice isn’t the correct word. You know what I mean.

Me: Is that all you’re doing?

Him: I’m driving to my next job.

Me: Busy week?

Him: Always is.

I wanna ask what makes it busy, but I know I can’t. He can’t tell me what he’s doing any more than I can share details of what I’m doing—not yet, anyhow. Maybe when I get home, we can talk, and I’ll share the sordid details. Until then, I have to keep my head in the game. This is literal life or death.

Me: I’m gonna shower and pack my bag for the yacht. Drive safe. See you next weekend.

Him: Will do. Love you.

Me: Love you, too.

The shower is quick, and the bag I pack is simple—all the essentials I need for my stay, including my two ribbed vibrators, a few changes of clothes, and feminine essentials. It fits perfectly in my backpack that I set by the front door. In another bag, I pack my personal phone, which I power down, and the rest of the items I want to take home with me. I leave the rest of my work clothes, food, and everything else in my apartment because it would be suspicious if I didn’t. The shampoo stays in the shower—a razor on the sink. The little touches will make it seem normal when Mr. Cassiano sends his goons to clear out my apartment to make me disappear.

After I finish another dinner of leftovers on my small couch and watch a rerun of Friends , I dress in all black, shoulder my personal bag, and duck out of the apartment under the guise of darkness, taking the back ways through town, down darkened alleys and quiet neighborhoods, per Dark’s previous instructions. I lock my bag inside a locker downtown, next to the bus station, to be picked up later, and take a different route home to avoid being followed.

Back inside the safety of my apartment, I walk around the small place to appreciate my last night here. Sure, it isn’t much, but it served its purpose. It felt like home after a wild day at the office—or, in this case, the yacht.

In the bathroom, I change out of my dark clothes and into a Cami and boy-short panties before I return to the bedroom for a good night's rest. Ha. Like that’ll happen. The night before any big assignment, my brain refuses to shut down. It overanalyzes everything, trying to figure out how tomorrow will play out in a million different ways. To fix this, I sit cross-legged on the center of the mattress, close my eyes, and meditate.

Through my nose, I breathe, pulling air into my diaphragm, down into my belly, where I hold it for a count, then release it between my lips in a steady stream of air. My brain clears as I focus on nothing but my breath. The tension I was carrying fades to nothingness. Peace flows through me as I switch from breathwork to a mix of humming and quietly reciting mantras I practiced with my mother when we sat in the grass, the sun on our faces, and became one with Mother Earth, where anything is possible.

I run through the paces until I’m left with a clear head and a peaceful heart. Only then do I click off my bedside lamp, shimmy under the covers, and sleep like the dead.