Chapter 19
Lucy
“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it! We could have walked right past each other in Paris, then!”
One of the brunettes on this boat leans forward, laughing and setting her hand on my arm, and I find myself giggling along with her, though what I want to say is, not likely.
Because while she and her friends were probably flouncing around, doing luxury shopping and eating at little corner cafés, Frankie and I were scrounging for money, finding back doors into museums, and sleeping fitfully on hard, stacked hostel bunks.
“It’s such a small world,” I say, instead of the truth. Maybe Nico’s right—maybe I’m decent at this.
The truth is that I don’t have anything in common with the women around me, but thanks to Nico taking me to that salon, I look like I do.
And I look like I belong here, sitting on this plush leather couch, my legs crossed—thank God I shaved this morning—the red bottom of my new shoes bouncing.
Behind us, the waves lap gently, and above us, a heat lamp keeps the air warm, despite the fact that it’s almost November now and the sun has slipped down under the line of the horizon. Every day, I’m introduced to another way rich people don’t live in the same universe as me.
“Is that where you and Nico met?” Angel, the mark, as Nico described her—making me feel more like I’m in a spy movie than just eating shrimp while my boss schmoozes a few feet away from me—asks, her gaze sweeping over me appraisingly.
I take inspiration from Cole’s earlier story about Dane joining the yachting club in college.
“Actually, my Daddy has been on me to learn more about yachting—it’s a family thing, you know—so I looked for a coach.
Nico was so nice to help me with it, and, well—all that time on the boat was too romantic not to feel something. ”
Daddy might have been laying it on a little thick, but none of them blink an eye at it, so I carry on as smoothly as I can. After, I take a quick sip of champagne—maybe I’m getting a little too into character.
“And your dad is okay with it?” another woman asks, her eyes darting over to the man she must be with.
They’re all young, around my age, give or take a few years, and the men are all hovering around Nico’s age, too. I wonder if any of these women are facing the wrath of their parents for being with an older man, or if it’s an accepted fact of life around here.
“Oh, yeah,” I lie, my stomach turning at what the truth would actually be. If my dad knew where I was right now, even if he knew that it was all just pretend, he would not like the idea of me on Nico’s arm tonight. “They’re good friends, and he trusts Nico.”
“That’s so surprising to me,” Angel sends an appraising glance in Nico’s direction. “I mean, he has a bit of a reputation…”
I blink before realizing maybe this was meant to be a jab.
To imply that Nico isn’t faithful or is such a womanizer that he couldn’t be in a relationship.
Strangely, I want to defend him, to say that of course he’s capable of being loyal—look at how long he’s been doing business with Cole and Dane.
Their friendship is stronger than most marriages.
Instead, I focus on the point. The reason we’re here.
Laughing a little, I give them all a pointed look, “I mean… I don’t mind. I get to benefit from all that experience, after all…”
Saying it makes something tighten between my legs, my heart beating a little harder. Like I might actually get to touch Nico later on tonight.
Absolutely not happening, even as Julian’s voice rings in the back of my mind, urging me to get a taste while I can. Complete the sampling flight, and everything else he said about the men during brunch.
“Oh, really?” Angel asks, raising an eyebrow and glancing back at the men, who are laughing, their whiskey glasses held loosely in their hands.
From here, even I can see that Nico is at the helm of the conversation, the brightest star in the sky. I can’t stop my gaze from lingering on him, watching the way he tells a story, waving his hand, before thrusting that hand into his glorious hair.
Then his attention darts to me, and he winks so quickly I could almost convince myself I imagined it. It’s ridiculously suave, even though it should be cringy.
“God, girl, get a room,” the brunette next to me laughs, and I flush, doing my best to act naturally, like Nico is actually my boyfriend, and not my boss.
“I mean… why do you think they got into making Ember’s products?” I return to the conversation confidently, thinking Dane would be proud of me for avoiding the word toy. Shrugging, I say, “Nico definitely cares about a woman’s pleasure.”
Angel crosses her arms and raises a brow, “I think they started Ember to make money. I’d much rather back something women-owned, you know? I just don’t see how men can really know anything about it.”
“I get that.” I do my best to say it like it doesn’t matter to me. “But, you know Cole Davenport, right?”
They all react appropriately to his name, and I take a moment to marvel at myself, dropping genius billionaire’s names like we’re the best of friends.
The kiss with Cole just two nights ago flashes through my mind, and I do my best to push it out. If I think about that right now, I’m going to lose it and ruin this whole thing. And, I’m finding it’s actually fun to slip into this role for a little while.
To play pretend as someone I’m not, just like I did on the stage with Dane, in Amsterdam.
“I mean, I know of him,” the brunette laughs, glancing at the group. “Isn’t he, like, a recluse?”
I let out a laugh that I hope sounds sophisticated and take a sip of my champagne. “Oh, maybe for some people. But I’ve seen the way his brain works—it’s amazing. You know, Ember products use nano-bots he invented himself? And right now, he’s working tirelessly on—well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you—”
“Tell us,” Angel urges, leaning forward, laughing a little. “We can keep a secret.”
“Okay, but you have to promise me you’ll keep it a secret.” I don’t know if I should be sharing this or not, but it’s too late now. “It’s a way to make the product self-cleaning. I don’t know about you, but I hate UTIs, and I’d really like to never get one again.”
“Oh my god,” the brunette sighs, jiggling her leg, “every summer I swear to god—if I even think about swimming.”
Angel hums, “So, they do like, market research?”
“Oh, it’s way more than that.” This time, I’m not sharing what Cole has told me, but just my research on the company practices in general.
“First, Cole spent almost a year just learning more about pleasure. He worked with the top experts on everything. Now, they pay like a thousand women to collect their biophysical data when developing products. All that goes into it. And, I mean, you know he has a medical doctorate, right?”
Angel blinks, “I didn’t know that. He’s a doctor?”
“Not practicing,” I admit, “not anymore, so he doesn’t have a license, but he went to medical school.
So he already knew about anatomy and stuff before.
Then they spend all this money and time researching pleasure in women—I mean, not to be rude, but Cole probably knows more than we all do, combined. ”
“God,” one of the girls breathes, “I’d kill to be in a room alone with him.”
A ripple of desire moves through me at the sound of that, too. I was alone in a room with him, and I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Now I’m bragging about his expertise to these women, and the latent desire in the back of my mind is just going to get worse.
And if Dane finds out about that kiss? About the weird crush I have on Cole—and, if I’m honest with myself, Nico, too—then what? Will I be the reason they break apart?
That thought makes me sick, and once more, I have to shove it away to focus on the “mission” at hand.
“Right—and, I mean, in a way, that’s what the product offers.” I laugh it off, leaning back, letting out a breath. “Not that it matters to me, if you try them. But I am saying that they’re pretty amazing…”
They all laugh, agreeing they’ll have to try them out, too.
I don’t even recognize myself right now, and I don’t think Mary or anyone back home would either. Sitting here, talking about sex—and alluding to using the toys myself—so easily. It’s bizarre, but I’m having fun.
It’s not like I’d want to stay in these pearls forever, but for right now? It’s a good time.
Maybe this is what Nico likes about all this. Getting to play pretend as an adult, leading people in a certain direction, and watching with satisfaction as they plod along, thinking they got there all on their own.
The conversation moves away from Ember and onto the girls’ upcoming trip to Cabo, but I have the deep, simmering feeling that I’ve completed my assignment.
“Lucy, Lucy, Lu-cy!” Nico sings, walking toward me with his arms out the moment we’re alone on the main deck. I glance around nervously, wondering when security will come and tell us to leave.
The last of the others just left, including Angel and her husband, and I kept waiting for Nico to tell me it’s time to go too, but he disappeared for a while. So I stood here and waited, looking out over the inky black water, feeling weirdly at peace.
It’s not like I’ve ever really been a boat girl. As a kid, we would sometimes take trips to the lake, but after one of my cousins got covered in leeches, we never went back.
And I’ve obviously never had the opportunity to go yachting off Manhattan.
Though I’m not sure the little jaunt we did counts as yachting, and it certainly doesn’t count now that we’re bobbing gently at the dock.
“Wha—” I start, but Nico is picking me up and spinning me around, the water turning to a blur in my peripheral, and I can’t stop myself from letting out laughter along with a squeal of protest. “Nico!”
“You brilliant woman,” he says, setting me back on my feet.
I waver slightly, but his arms are still on my waist, keeping me steady as the boat rocks.
I won’t lie—I’ve felt the tiniest bit of sea sickness since we came aboard, and I don’t understand how Nico moves around like the constant motion is nothing at all.
His words register, and I blink, “Angel liked what I said?”
“Liked what you said?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up, “She basically told stinky old Edward that if he doesn’t invest, she’ll leave him. He’s going all in on the next round of product.”
“That’s great!” I say, though I’m surprised at how happy Nico is about this. It’s not like he’s a new entrepreneur and this was his only shot at funding. Ember could get anyone, I’m sure. I bet the three executives could fund everything themselves, if they chose to.
But I think back to the feeling of Angel coming around, my words influencing her. It’s the thrill of the win, not the money, that has this grin lighting up his face.
“Come on,” Nico says, taking his hands off me and gesturing for me to follow him. “Let me pour us a drink to celebrate.”
When I hesitate, he pauses, glancing back at me expectantly. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”
“No, I—” I pause, clear my throat, and glance around for the security guard I saw earlier. Now, I spot him down on the dock, standing at the loading platform. “Aren’t they expecting us to leave, too?”
Nico raises an eyebrow, “Who’s they?”
“Whoever…” I trail off from saying whoever owns this rig at the look on Nico’s face, and that’s when I realize that I’ve been on his boat this entire day.
A laugh bubbles out of me, and I step forward, following him. We wind along the side of the boat, the water sloshing to our right. “Why didn’t you tell me? And why did we get here so much later than everyone, if you were the host?”
Nico flashes me a winning grin as he turns and pushes open a different door, gesturing for me to come inside. “Here’s a lesson for you, darling—always be fashionably late. I’ve got people to set up the party for me.”
Those people, the ones serving the shrimp and drinks, are gone now. I can’t be certain, but it feels like Nico and I are the only two people on the entire boat.
We walk down into what appears to be the living quarters. I gasp and jump back when I realize part of the floor isn’t the same solid, polished wood—it’s glass.
“Don’t worry,” Nico says, walking confidently out onto it. It’s too dark for me to see anything in the water, but the thought of something swimming under us sends a shiver up my back. “It’s military-grade.”
I raise an eyebrow at that but follow him into a little living room. He moves to a cart in the corner, letting out a noise of surprise.
“Shit,” he laughs, running his hand through his hair. “They must have forgotten to stock the liquor back here.” As he talks, he strides back over the glass floor, toward the door we came in. “No worries. I saw a bottle of champagne upstairs.”
But when he turns the handle on the door, it doesn’t budge.
I stand, stock still in my designer dress and pearls, watching as he frowns, tries the handle again, and lifts his shiny gold watch to a pad on the door.
It beeps, the light flashing green, but when Nico pulls on the door once more, nothing happens.
He tries it again, and again, but it stays stubbornly shut.
For the third time, I’m stuck and alone with one of my three bosses.