Chapter 8 #2
"It'll do," he replies, but there's a softness to his expression that tells me he's pleased by my reaction. He hands me a glass, our fingers brushing in the exchange. "To the project," he says, raising his glass slightly.
I tilt my head. "Is that really what we're toasting?"
His eyes darken slightly, but his lips curve into that almost-smile. "To unexpected pleasures then."
We clink glasses and sip. The champagne is crisp and perfect, tiny bubbles dancing on my tongue. We sit side by side on the cushioned netting, our bodies swaying with the gentle motion of the boat. Not quite touching, but close enough that the slightest shift would bring us together.
"Have you traveled much?" Alexander asks, selecting a slice of mango from the platter.
"Not like this," I admit. "I've been to Europe a few times for design inspiration. Paris, Milan, Barcelona. But always working, and always on a budget."
He nods, considering this. "Travel changes when it's not constrained by money."
"Is that your polite way of saying everything's better when you're rich?" I ask with a small laugh.
A genuine smile breaks through his usual reserve. "Something like that."
As we eat, he tells me about places he's been—a private island in the Maldives where the water is so clear you can see straight to the bottom even at twenty feet deep.
A hidden ryokan in the Japanese mountains where the hot spring baths overlook ancient forests.
A coastal villa in Greece where he watched dolphins play at sunrise.
"Last year I chartered a yacht through the Greek islands," he says, refilling our glasses. "Two weeks exploring places you can only reach by water. Tiny villages where the fishermen still use methods passed down for generations. Beaches with sand so fine it feels like powder beneath your feet."
I close my eyes briefly, trying to imagine it.
Not just the places, but being there with him.
Waking up in some luxurious cabin, stepping out onto a private deck to find Alexander waiting with coffee, his hair tousled from sleep.
Swimming in crystal waters, his strong arms pulling me against him as waves lap around us.
Exploring ancient ruins hand in hand, returning to shared quarters at the end of the day.
These fantasies are dangerous, I know. This thing between us has parameters—unspoken but clear. It began in Antigua and will likely end here too. Yet I can't stop my mind from wandering into impossible futures.
"Perhaps you'll see it someday," he says, misreading my silence for simple wistfulness about travel.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with that intensity that makes my breath catch. "Perhaps," I echo, not trusting myself to say more.
The sun begins its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in different shades of gold. Roger adjusts our course, positioning the catamaran perfectly to capture the spectacle. The water transforms into a mirror of fire, reflecting the changing sky.
"What did you think?" Alexander asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
"Incredible," I answer, looking not at the sunset but at him—at the way the light softens his features, turning his usual sharpness into something almost tender.
His hand finds mine, hidden from Roger's view by our bodies and the champagne bucket. His thumb moves along my palm, sending ripples of sensation up my arm.
When Roger moves to the far side of the boat to adjust something, Alexander leans in and kisses me—a soft, lingering press of lips that feels different from our previous kisses. Less urgent, less about possession and more about... connection.
"Research going well, sir?" Roger calls out as he returns, and Alexander pulls away with a reluctance I can feel.
"Exceeding expectations," Alexander replies smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine.
As the sun sinks lower, casting long shadows across the deck, Alexander's hand finds my knee beneath the small table. His touch is light but deliberate, and makes it difficult to focus on Roger's stories about island legends and local customs.
When Roger turns to point out a passing sailboat, Alexander steals another kiss—this one deeper, his hand sliding higher on my thigh, stopping just short of impropriety. I suppress a small gasp against his lips.
"Later," he promises, his voice rough with desire.
The sunset reaches its climax, the sun a molten gold orb melting into the sea. The sky blazes in impossible hues—coral and crimson and violet streaking across clouds that seem painted for our private viewing.
As the sun sets fully, I glance at Alexander and notice the way his guard has lowered just enough to reveal glimpses of a man who experiences beauty, who appreciates more than balance sheets and bottom lines.
A man who might, despite his warnings about his nature, be capable of feeling something beyond physical desire.
As darkness falls and Roger switches on the boat's subtle lighting, Alexander leans close to my ear. "Come to my suite ASAP."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes."
And in that simple word, I acknowledge that whatever line I thought I was maintaining—whatever protection I thought I had against falling for this man—has already been crossed.