Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
ALYONA
I find Leo exactly where I left him, basking in the sunlit top deck dining area. He’s on the phone, but when he spots me approaching, his gaze sticks to me like a magnet, lingering on the sway of my hips. Can’t deny that I may be sauntering a little more than usual.
He promptly ends his call as I reach the table. I catch the way his eyes trail down the length of my body and then back up again. The vein in his temple ticks like he’s annoyed. And if that’s the case, then well done, me.
“I see you were able to find something that met with your stamp of approval,” he says, jaw tight.
“Oh, this old thing.” I make a sweeping motion in front of my body. “As you suggested, I made myself at home. I’m curious though,” I say, leaning casually against the deck railing. “Be honest. Who did you steal this yacht from?”
His chuckle is rugged and masculine, evoking a familiar shiver down my spine. His deep voice was always a turn-on. “I didn’t steal it, like I said, it’s a rental. When you’re willing to pay top dollar, people become very accommodating.”
“If you say so,” I say, lips twitching. “But I don’t think the owner will be very happy after he realizes I’ve raided his wife’s—no, make that mistress’s—closet.”
Leo waves a hand in the air like it doesn’t matter. “Wear what you want. I’ll replace it when this is all said and done.”
When this is all said and done. What does that even mean?
I’d like to believe this will all be sorted out quickly so my life can go back to the status quo—back to Paris, back to my job, back to …
well, I suppose that’s it. Most of my friends are work colleagues, if I am going to be honest, and other than making time for a few bad dates, my life is pretty boring, even if I’m in one of the most exciting cities in the world.
Shit. Which reminds me. “My boss! She’s going to lose her mind if I don’t show up at work.”
Leo rises to his full height beside me. It’s rare for me to feel dwarfed, but he manages to make me feel small, petite even.
I used to love that. Now, not so much. He casually checks the time on his watch.
“Already taken care of. You emailed her this morning saying there was a family emergency back in New York and you’re taking a leave of absence.
Pauline was very worried; she sends her regards. Nice lady,” he adds.
I huff out a bitter laugh, unsurprised but still annoyed. “You hacked my email.”
He shrugs, not apologetic at all. “It had to be done. We didn’t need your boss calling the cops when you didn’t show up for work.”
“Hmm, let’s tally up your federal offenses over the last twenty-four hours, shall we? Impersonation, kidnapping, unauthorized email access, grand theft yacht … should I go on?”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, causing his biceps to bulge enticingly. “Actually, I have something to add to your list. We’re going by false identities. Your name is Alison Henderson, and I’m Leonardo Walker. We live in New York. I’m a Wall Street dude.”
I burst into laughter. “Who in the world would believe that you work on Wall Street!?” His beefy build and canvas of tattoos is more rock star than stockbroker, but if he thinks he can sell that cover story, I won’t stop him. “And why are you the only one with the job? What about me?”
His face breaks into a wicked smile. “Good point. Hmm, let’s think about it.” He gestures with his chin at my bikini. “Stripper?”
A small smirk forms on my lips as I rest a hand on my hip. “Why not? There must be a pole somewhere on this floating prison. I’d be happy to put on a show … for anyone that’s not you.”
All humor fades from Leo’s expression. “Not happening. On this boat, you’re mine.
I’m the only one you’ll put on a show for.
So if you want to dance for me, by all means.
There’s nothing I would enjoy more.” My brow creases in irritation.
As if I would dance for him. As if he has any say in what I do with my body.
Just him shutting down that idea makes me want to walk around here in the nude.
“By the way, if we’re supposed to be engaged, where’s my ring?”
“Oh, we’ll get to that soon.” He chucks me under the chin in a gesture that has my teeth on edge and wanders ahead.
As we climb the stairs, I notice he’s changed as well.
No longer in his standard ripped jeans and fitted white shirt, he’s wearing chino shorts and a button-down pale-pink linen shirt.
The ensemble is so not Leo—I’ve definitely never seen him wear anything remotely resembling shorts and definitely not ones that are two sizes too small on him.
Now that I’ve noticed the way the fabric hugs that fine ass of his—well, I can’t un-notice it.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who had to dip into someone else’s wardrobe,” I mutter.
“You checking out my ass, Aly-cat?”
Busted. “I’d rather eat worms,” I say with feigned sweetness as we enter onto the bridge of the yacht. “Just hard not to notice you stuffed into a pair of khakis. I thought you were allergic to preppy styles.”
“Like you, I didn’t exactly come prepared.
” He stares at me intently, his eyes blazing, before he moves closer and murmurs into my ear, “And I thought you were allergic to string bikinis.” The rough pads of his fingers brush against my back, and a warm tingle runs down my spine.
It’s so fast, so light, I’m not even sure it happened.
Before I can spin on him, he breezes past me, his flip-flops—flip-flops!
— tapping lightly against the polished teak floor.
I slide my sunglasses up to my forehead, taking in my surroundings. The bridge, the yacht’s command center, is spacious and modern, with huge windows offering a panoramic view of sun and sea.
As we enter, a line of poised crew members stands at the ready.
A silver-haired man steps forward first, introducing himself with a Scandinavian lilt.
“Ms. Henderson, I’m Captain Karl Hansen.
Pleasure to meet you.” He offers his calloused hand, all seriousness and authority. “My crew and I are at your service.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And please call me Alison.” The name sounds odd from my lips, but I get why we need to keep our identities under wraps.
“Of course. First, let me introduce our chief steward.”
A lively woman that looks to be in her mid-thirties steps forward to shake our hands.
She has warm brown skin and a friendly smile.
“Bonjour, I’m Genevieve,” she says, her voice tinged with a French accent.
“I’m in charge of making sure the food and service meet your expectations.
Any culinary or other preferences, please let me know. ”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we won’t need anything special because we’re not staying long, but Leo intervenes, throwing a casual arm around me.
“We should probably mention that Alison here loves a green smoothie in the morning. Spinach, wheatgrass, broccoli—whatever you got, throw it in. Oh, and a raw egg, too.” His eyes sparkle. “For protein.”
My smile is brittle. I despise smoothies, they’re like drinking baby food, and Leo knows how I feel.
He’s also touching me, something I strictly warned him against. Well, two can play that game.
I straighten, subtly shaking his arm from my shoulder.
“And we should probably tell Genevieve about your … little problem?”
Leo eyes me with interest. “And what would that be, honey?”
“Oh, you know. Your issue …” I wink at him.
“Down there.” He tugs at his collar, lips pressing together in a thin line.
I’m starting to enjoy this. I let Leo sweat it out for a few more moments, then add, “I meant his heart. Leonardo has high blood pressure. So no salt in his food. Nothing. No cream, no butter, nothing fried of course. Actually, best to serve him a vegan diet.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Leo says, jaw clenched.
He lives for steak and fries. I’m not even sure he knows the true meaning of vegan. “But, honey-bunny, I’m worried about you.”
To her credit, Genevieve doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Whatever you need, my team is here to make it happen.”
“That’s so kind of you.” I’m about to ask if there are any little blue pills on board because my fiancé forgot his at home, but the moment my lips part, Leo seizes the back of my neck and crashes his mouth onto mine.
My pulse falters. His kiss is not sweet or gentle; it’s deep and unrelenting—possessive. The world around us blurs into insignificance and my knees weaken. I raise my hands to his chest intending to push him away, but when his tongue brushes mine, my mind becomes too addled to do much of anything.
With a final nip to my lower lip, he is the one to break the contact first, his gaze gleaming with victory.
Fuck me. And I fell it for it, hook, line, and sinker.
I rear back, ready to give him hell, but his eyes flash in warning. We’re still surrounded by the crew, still expected to act the role of a head-over-heels couple. So I do what I have to do. I grit my teeth and smile at the next person who steps forward, still feeling unsteady.
The man in front of me is tall and fit with sandy-blond hair that’s artfully tousled and bright-blue eyes that glitter as they roll lazily over my body.
I don’t know what to make of his appreciative stare—and right in front of my pretend fiancé no less.
But the feel of Leo bristling beside me has me smiling and holding out my hand.
“I’m Jack, the first officer,” he says, a broad smile spreading across his handsome face. Damn. He’s more GQ model than weathered sailor. “I assist Captain Hansen and manage the deck crew. I’m sure you’ll see a lot of me this trip.”
Picking up on the distinctive inflection in his speech, I ask, “Is that an Australian accent I detect?”
“Guilty as charged. Born and raised in Brisbane, though I’ve spent the last few years overseas, working on yachts like this one. It mellowed the accent a bit.”
“My family were huge fans of the Crocodile Dundee films,” I confess. “I know it’s so cringey, but it gave me the travel bug.” I huff out a laugh. “Made me want to visit Australia.”
“You definitely should. I’d be more than happy to help you plan an itinerary, even show you the sights—”
“Perhaps on our next adventure, love,” Leo interjects.
I shoot him a what the hell? look, but he avoids my eye.
A few other crew members step forward, but I don’t pay too close attention, mostly because I’m fascinated at the way Leo is glaring at Jack.
Is he just playing the part of a jealous boyfriend, or does he still feel some claim over me?
That kiss sure seemed like he did, even if it was just to shut me up.
The realization brings a satisfied smile to my lips.
It seems I’ve found a way to get under Leo’s skin—some harmless flirting with Jack. I’m not interested, and I’d never go out of my way to make a real boyfriend jealous, that’s not my style, but Leo isn’t a real boyfriend.
Not anymore.
He’s just some guy who broke my heart.