Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Joel kept his promise.

The next night, after his shift and after we both had a quick dinner with the rest of the crew, we crawled into bed together and turned on a movie. Joel held me close, laughing when appropriate while I let my eyes go in and out of focus and always laughed a little too late.

I was too busy chastising myself to truly watch the movie.

I felt like the scum of the earth after last night, even though I hadn’t technically done anything wrong. In my mind, words were just as potent as actions, and I couldn’t believe what I’d said to Theo. More than that, I couldn’t believe what I’d seen when he got out of the hot tub. Even the simple, kind, and innocent texts from him on my phone seemed to haunt me, like they were something I should be ashamed of, like I should hastily delete them and his number altogether from my phone the next time Joel got up to go to the bathroom.

I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt, the warning bells ringing shrilly inside me — not even when Joel ignored the final twenty minutes of the movie in favor of lying me down in the sheets of that bed we shared. For the first time since being onboard, he took his time, kissing me all over and driving me wild with foreplay before he finally pressed inside me.

I faked an orgasm so he would come, too.

And then we both fell asleep.

The next day, I vowed to get myself right. It wasn’t a big deal. So what, I had a little crush. That was normal. Lots of people in relationships had crushes. And so what, I’d stumbled up on Theo in the hot tub. So what, I’d joined him at his insistence. He was the owner, after all — what was I supposed to do?

I chose to ignore the rest of what happened that night, and my avoidance tactics worked so well that after a few days, I wondered if I’d imagined all of it. My theory was aided by the fact that Theo didn’t talk to me or text me or so much as look at me. He was all business again, bringing clients onboard and attending to his business on shore. He asked me to work for him when necessary — usually through instructing Wayland to tell me rather than himself — and he stayed out of sight on the days he had off.

Part of me wondered if he’d taken my advice, if he was on shore doing some stupid touristy attraction, or forcing himself to take a real day off.

The other part of me slapped my wrist that I was thinking of him at all.

Fortunately, I was able to keep busy over the next couple of weeks, exploring culture-rich spots like La Spezia and Pisa and Portoferraio on my days off, and working for Theo when called upon to do so. I’d become accustomed to his guests. I knew how to handle them, how to please them and still keep my sanity.

At least, until we made it to the coastline near Rome, and I got my first taste of the horrific experiences I’d heard the rest of the crew talk about from their past years working charters.

The group of hellish, impossibly rude and rambunctious men boarded the yacht at a dock near Fiumicino on a warm and sunny day. I never did catch what company they were with, but they became known by myself and the rest of the crew as la sporcizia .

Translated to: the filth.

Where most of the other guests had been in small groups of two to four, this one was a large and loud group of twelve Italian men. The suits they wore their first day on the yacht was about as far as their professionalism seemed to go. And after watching their behavior for just a few hours, I knew they must be an important client for Theo to put up with their antics.

He did seem to be more severe with them than with the others he’d hosted, though, and he ensured they followed a strict day-to-day itinerary that involved conferences, meetings on shore, and strategic planning. I didn’t understand the nature of the business relationship, but I knew after being pulled this way and that, being asked to take some of the most ridiculous pictures of my life, and having a story of my own to tell Ivy and Celeste — thanks to one of the men getting me alone in the main deck salon and offering to pay me ten grand for any photos I had of Theo lounging topless on the sun deck — I was exhausted and beyond ready for them to disembark.

And I wasn’t the only one having trouble with our guests.

They put the chefs through the ringer with their outrageous requests for exotic and pricey fare, including a specific kind of fatty tuna sushi that they demanded be flown in fresh from Japan the day of the meal. Emma was ready to tear her hair out with the men’s insistence to have a themed party every night they were onboard. Ivy and Celeste looked run down and ragged after cleaning the rooms each morning, and Joel and Ace were working dawn until dusk, facilitating requests to go to shore or take out the jet skis or helping the stewardesses with hosting and serving drinks by the pool.

Even the engineers had a run of it after the air conditioning unit fritzed. Captain Chuck seemed about the only one able to keep his cool, and he was the steady rock for the rest of us through the hellish ordeal.

When la sporcizia finally departed, there was a universal sigh of relief onboard. And when Theo announced that we’d have a crew pool party the next evening as a thank you for handling the difficult guests, that sigh of relief turned into a cheer of celebration.

Well, for everyone but me, anyway.

“He really is the best owner ever ,” Celeste said shortly after we got the news. We were all downstairs in the crew galley, and everyone except for me had a well-earned drink in their hand. “I mean, most of the time after handling a group like that, you have one night of rest and then you get up to do it all over again. On the worst days, they get off the boat in the morning and you’re welcoming the next charter that evening.” She shook her head, her dark eyes more tired and worn than I’d ever seen them. “Theo is a god.”

Ivy chuckled. “I don’t know about all that, but he at least takes pity on us.” Her smile bloomed then. “A pool party ,” she said, shaking her head. “This is going to be epic.”

“Are you going?” Emma asked me with a nudge.

I shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on,” Celeste said. “You have to come! Even you got your fill of la sporcizia. You should celebrate your first real guest experience.”

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” I said — to no one’s surprise.

“Yeah, but it’ll just be us!” Ivy said. “It’s not like you’re going to a club or something. Oh!” She perked up, her sea green eyes bright and bushy-tailed. “This is the perfect time to do your makeover!”

Emma and Celeste squealed and looked to me excitedly just as I tried to shrink away. “Oh... I don’t know…”

“You promised!” Celeste said with a pout, which was not exactly true, but the way the three of them watched me like it was my decision whether the party happened or not, I felt a prickle of guilt and expectation nudge me over the edge.

“Okay,” I conceded to a chorus of claps from the girls. “But,” I said, holding up one finger. “Nothing too crazy, okay? It’s a pool party, not a gala.”

“It’s a nighttime pool party,” Ivy reminded me. “An evening of champagne and food and a night under the stars.” She lifted her hands to the ceiling before pulling them to her chest. “It will be magical.”

Her eyes found Joel then, and he smiled in return, and I silently wished for a case of food poisoning to get me out of this mess.

***

“Oh… my… God ,” Celeste said behind Ivy. They were both crowding over me in Joel’s and my stateroom, Ivy brushing something on my cheeks as a final touch before she pulled back to join Celeste in admiration.

“I’m a miracle worker.”

Celeste scoffed and elbowed Ivy, but then her hands were reaching for me, and she pulled me up from the bed, rushing me to the bathroom. “Just look at yourself.”

She shoved me in front of the mirror, and then she and Ivy were behind me, waiting expectantly over each of my shoulders while I took in the reflection that I could hardly believe was me.

Celeste had taken over my hair, weaving it into a braided crown that wrapped around my head entirely before the braid continued down over my left shoulder. A few tendrils were free from the braid, curled into tiny soft waves that framed my face.

Ivy had been master of the makeup, and though I couldn’t imagine ever taking as much time as she had doing my own makeup, the result left my lips parted, jaw hanging open. My skin looked flawless, all freckles and blemishes covered, and somehow my cheek bones were more prominent, my nose thin and long. She’d even contoured my collarbones, which I didn’t even know was a thing, and painted my lips a siren red.

But what stole the show — and my breath — were my eyes.

Though I was never one to dote on myself, I had always appreciated my blue eyes. They were something that made me feel beautiful. But tonight? They weren’t just blue.

They were diamonds. They were a turquoise sea washing against a private island beach. They were aqua waterfalls in a jungle. They sparkled and shone bright, framed by dark liner and long, black lashes. The lids were dusted various shades of brown and gold, which somehow gave me a natural look but with a pop of something magical and alluring.

“Oh, Ivy…” I whispered, reaching up to touch my face. She swatted my hand away before I could make contact.

“Don’t mess it up!”

“I can’t believe this is me,” I whispered.

“Well, believe it, sister,” Celeste said. “Now, what suit are you wearing?”

I frowned at her in the mirror. “I only have one.”

We made our way out of the bathroom, and I pulled the suit from where it was shoved in one of the dresser drawers. It was a simple, burnt orange two-piece, with an athletic-like halter top and high-waisted bottoms that covered my hips and butt completely. The last time I’d worn it was when I’d been in the hot tub with Theo.

One look at it and I knew Ivy and Celeste were not impressed.

“Okay, no. You can’t take all this,” Ivy said, gesturing to my face. “And pair it with that .”

“Not to worry,” Celeste added with a wave of her finger, and she was already dashing out the door. “I have a few extras!”

She was gone before I could protest, and then for the first time, I was alone with Ivy.

She smiled, shaking her head as she touched up something above my left eyebrow. “You’re stunning. Joel is going to lose his shit when he sees you.”

I flushed. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course. This is what girlfriends do. And we’re friends, right?”

She smiled, and I think I managed one in return, though something rolled in my stomach like the feeling you get before driving in a thunderstorm.

“So, do you love being on the boat with Joel?” she asked, casually walking into the bathroom to check her appearance. She primped and puckered while I took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Yes, but I’ll admit, this isn’t really my scene.”

She arched a brow. “The long days of work?”

“More like the long nights of partying.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding like she understood. “Yeah, it definitely takes a certain kind of person to be a Yachty. You’ve got to be tough, resilient, hardworking. You know?” She shrugged, wiping at the corner of her mouth where some lipstick had smeared. “It’s not for the weak.”

Celeste bounded back in before I could reply that my preference to spend quality time with my boyfriend rather than party every night had nothing to do with me being weak , but we shared a look — one that I hoped told her I saw right through the passive-aggressive comment.

I couldn’t figure Ivy out. One minute I felt like we were friends, the next, I was sure she’d shove me overboard if she thought no one was looking.

“Okay, I have others, but I saw this one and just knew it was the perfect fit,” Celeste said, shoving something black and strappy into my hands. “Go put it on and then we should go. Everyone else is already up there partying, and as much as I love to be fashionably late, I don’t want to miss out on the free booze.” She lowered her voice as if anyone else was around. “I heard Theo is serving us tonight.”

My eyes widened when I held up the swimsuit she’d brought. “Um…”

“Just put it on,” she said, shoving me toward the bathroom. “Trust me.”

And for some ungodly reason, I did.