49. Luna

"That's gross."

Kory gagged and backed away from the kitchen until he trod on my foot. I yelped and shoved him, but my bigger concern was the smell.

"Shit, sorry," he said.

"What happened?"

Kory was twenty-six, the same age as me, but when he crinkled his nose like that, he looked twelve.

"Jacques decided to sample the local cuisine yesterday. Some kind of fish soup. And I guess it was bad because he just puked all over the stove."

Kory was absolutely right—that was gross. "So we're not getting lunch?"

"We'll have to go out."

"I can't go out—Knox is busy, plus he has crutches. Is Jacques okay?"

"Malinda's going to take Jacques to the doctor, and the rest of the staff are going to deep clean the kitchen." Kory paused. Grimaced. "Maybe I'll call Dad, see if we can get the whole lot ripped out. How long does it take to fit a new one?"

"How should I know? Don't you think replacing the whole kitchen would be kinda wasteful?"

A month ago, I'd probably have been on board with the plan, but now…now I'd seen the kitchen at the sanctuary, which had to be fifty years old, and not only was it still going strong, but I hadn't gotten food poisoning from it either.

"Do you want to eat vomit?"

"They said they'd clean it, dumbass."

My stomach grumbled, and I knew I should have ignored it, but I'd grown used to eating proper meals. Tres bocados instead of black coffee for breakfast, stew and flatbread instead of a salad and ice water for lunch, grilled fish and a baked sweet potato or rice for dinner instead of tofu and steamed vegetables. Mom was going to yell at me because I'd put on weight, but I also felt stronger. Both mentally and physically. Deep down, I'd always been scared of change, scared that even though I hated my life, the alternatives would be worse, but now I realised that change might not be the monster I'd always feared. A lot had happened in the past month, bad stuff like nearly being kidnapped, but there had been good moments too. And I was still alive, still breathing, looking at life through fresh eyes.

"How long do bacteria take to die?" Kory asked.

"That wasn't a question that came up at pageants."

"I'll google it. What do you want for lunch? There's a weird burrito place along the promenade. Not real burritos—they put French fries in them—but the guy who runs the place is hot."

"Do you ever not think with your dick?"

"Just because you're a eunuch doesn't mean everyone else has to be."

"I'm, like, eighty percent sure that women can't be eunuchs."

"Nah, someone wrote a book about it. The Female Eunuch. Go put on sunglasses and a hat or whatever."

"I already told you, I can't go out. Not without Knox."

"Why? We're barely leaving the boat, and I thought your stalker was just Cordelia being a bitch?"

Kory did have a point. The only reason Mom had hired bodyguards was because I'd received threats, but those had all been down to my horrible half-sister. I'd sent Cordelia an email telling her precisely what I thought of her, but she hadn't bothered to reply. Not that I was expecting her to. She'd have her butler craft a suitably snotty response on personalised stationery and mail it sometime next month. Although now that I'd seen the messages she'd crafted on behalf of my stalker, I realised that she wasn't quite the prude I'd always assumed. She was just a sick witch who liked to pretend she was better than everyone else.

"Okay, fine. As long as we go straight to the burrito place and nowhere else."

"The place next door does the best strawberry daiquiris."

"Do they do takeout?"

"You're so boring these days."

Once, I'd have taken offence at that and come up with some outrageous stunt just to prove him wrong. But today, I simply nodded.

"I learned a bunch of stuff in the past three weeks. Not only about turtles, but about myself."

Maybe I should write Judge Morgan a thank-you note?

Kory just rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a freaky rehab program."

"Don't mention freaky rehab. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime."

I considered telling Knox where I was going, but he had enough on his plate. The look in his eyes earlier, it had been…haunted. I wished there was something I could do, some comfort I could offer, but he didn't want me around. That much was clear. Emmy said I was the client, but…but I also wanted to be a friend. Ryder, Knox, even Caro, they were the first people to look beyond my money and my stupid reputation and treat me like a regular human being. Okay, so Caro hadn't exactly been nice, but she'd been honest. And I valued honesty above everything.

San Gallicano was hardly South Beach, but there were enough people around that I dug out a floppy hat and oversized sunglasses and pulled on a loose cover-up over my pink bikini. Kory had taken a few photos of me earlier to use for my socials, but my heart wasn't in it. Now that I'd had a taste of privacy, I was reluctant to let it go.

He was waiting for me on the swim platform, and we hurried across the gangway, keeping our heads down, Kory because he wanted to believe people might recognise him, and me because people would recognise me. It felt like a lifetime since I'd last walked along the promenade. The place was busier this time around—more boats, more tourists, more locals hawking beaded necklaces and sunglasses and bags of dubious spices. Kory would be devastated that the Cleopatra was only the third-biggest yacht in the harbour.

The biggest was named Kraken, and as we walked past it, a man dressed in white linen pants and a pale blue polo shirt crossed the gangway and clipped me with his elbow. I was about to demand an apology when I realised two things. One, I was supposed to be staying incognito. And two, he looked familiar.

It took me a moment to place him.

And then I remembered. My stomach, it was like a lake and someone had just tossed a boulder into the middle. Ripples of nausea spread out to the edges.

"That's him!" I grabbed Kory's arm and whispered frantically. "That's the guy!"

"What guy?" Of course he turned to look. "His ass isn't bad."

"The guy Knox and everyone else is looking for," I hissed. "Aiden the sleaze."

"You think?"

"I'm seventy percent sure."

I'd only gotten a quick glimpse, but as he breezed past, I'd caught a whiff of his cologne. Something spicy and overpowering. The same scent I'd gagged on five years ago when he hit on me on his stupid boat.

"So go tell Knox."

I took a step toward the Cleopatra, but what would Knox do? He couldn't go after Aiden himself, not with his injured leg, and everyone else was on Malavilla. On Malavilla looking for Aiden and Caro. But Aiden was here. What if Caro was here too? Aiden was gone right now, but he'd probably be back by the time anyone made it over from Malavilla, and then searching for her would be a heck of a lot harder. The yacht looked quiet. If Aiden was up to something sketchy, like kidnapping his ex-girlfriend, for example, surely he wouldn't have a dozen staff around to witness the crime?

"Wait here," I told Kory.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to check if Caro's on that boat."

Now Kory grabbed my arm. "Have you lost your mind?"

"If Aiden comes back, distract him."

"What if someone sees you?"

"I'll just act dumb and say I'm looking for a friend. Call Knox, okay? Tell him where I am."

The "looking for a friend" story wouldn't be that farfetched, would it? People already saw me as a dumb blonde, so they'd totally believe I was on the wrong boat. I ran onto the Kraken before Kory could stop me and headed into the main cabin. The stairs would probably be in the middle, and the sleeping deck would be the best place to keep a prisoner. My pulse raced as I paused beside a polished wood bar, listening for signs of anyone else on board, and I realised I was actually freaking terrified. Was it possible to break a rib from the inside? My heart was pounding so hard that I was about to find out.

Above the soft classical music that played in the background, a thunk sounded from someplace deep in the boat, and I almost ran right back to Kory. But I'd come this far. I grabbed a bottle of champagne—not a regular bottle, but a magnum of Dom Pérignon—and hefted it in my hands. Then I tiptoed forward.