Chapter 6
Bianca
When I was a little girl, my mother read me stories of pirates and princesses. Pirates were always the villain in every book we read. They pillaged and rummaged, stealing what they wanted. Taking what wasn’t theirs.
The princesses would cry, wishing more than anything to go home to their perfect lives while the pirates held them hostage.
“I can have the chef prepare you something else,” Costi offers.
I adore shrimp scampi, but I don’t want him to assume things haven’t changed. Because they have changed. Every feeling I’ve ever had for the boy that left me ten years ago is now replaced with a ghost of a memory.
A long-lost love.
I mourn the love I once held for Constantine Gold.
In its place is an emptiness. A blackness unable to hold the happiness of love ever again. A deep void of darkness.
Maybe when I return—because mark my words, I will return—I’ll marry Gino and give my father the life he wants for me.
Children.
Happiness.
Away from the likes of a pirate.
A man brings the shrimp scampi to the table, and even though it looks delicious, I turn my nose up at it.
Now, if Costi were the pirate he pretends to be, he’d throw me in the ship’s dungeon and force me to eat soggy bread. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he has the server take the scampi away and asks for a replacement meal.
“There’s not enough time to make lasagna, but we can have a salad. Yes?”
“Yes, a salad is fine.”
My stomach weeps at the loss of the scampi dish, but this is a power play I won’t lose. I need to know how much of the old Costi remains hidden behind the scowling eyes of the man before me.
The waiter brings out a boring plate of salad and I gobble it, hating my situation.
“How have you been?” Costi asks from across the table.
“Do you mean since you took me prisoner? Or how have I been since the day you walked away and never looked back?” I roll a cherry tomato around on my plate, wishing I could bring back the scampi dish. I’d love to sink my teeth into a plump shrimp right now.
“Bianca, why must you fight me at every turn?”
I spear the tomato. “I’m not fighting with you.”
“I know you eat shrimp.”
“I don’t.”
“You had a shrimp hors d’oeuvre at the party.”
I drop my fork. “Fine, yes, I love shrimp scampi. I wish you’d bring back the scampi because it smelled so good, and I’m starving.”
Costi’s eyes glow with amusement. “Bring the scampi back,” he says to the waiter.
Within seconds, the delicious scent of shrimp scampi re-enters the room.
Costi: 1, Bianca: 0.
It upsets me that I've lost this round, but I guess Costi knows a hungry woman will tell the truth about what she wants to eat.
“Tell me about Gino.”
“Not much to tell,” I say as I stab a piece of shrimp with my fork and bring it to my lips.
“Your father trusts him?”
“He does,” I answer as soon as I’m done chewing. This is delicious. I can’t tell him that, though. I take another bite and Costi watches my mouth like a hawk.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my shrimp scampi.”
“Yours? I’m sure you didn’t cook this.”
He swirls a noodle against his spoon. “Ah, but it is my recipe.” He tosses the pasta into his mouth and chews slowly. Once he’s done, his eyes blaze at me. “Tell me why your father trusts him.”
I shrug. “Because he trusts Gino’s dad, I guess. Why?”
Costi watches me eat for a moment before he breaks a fluffy roll in half, using it to sop up a little of the juice on his plate. “Just wondering why you’re still going along with this arranged marriage.”
“What makes you think we don’t love each other and want to marry for that reason alone?”
Constantine sets his fork on his plate, raising a brow. “He’s not your type.”
“How would you know? You don’t even know him. You don’t know me either. Maybe over the years we fell in love.”
“I know he can’t give you what you need.”
“And you think you can?” My chest rises and falls rapidly with each ragged breath.
Costi takes a moment to calm his breathing as well. “I never said I could. In fact, I know I can’t.”
“Well, of course not. Your idea of romance is kidnapping.”
He smiles, and it nearly knocks me off my chair. “Exactly. Now tell me about the business.”
“Why? So you can ruin it?”
For the next few minutes, we eat in silence, and the sound is deafening. Each scrape of the silverware against the plates is ten times louder when there’s no noise to lessen it.
It’s hard to breathe with Costi staring at me like a lion preying on a lamb. I set my fork down, but he shakes his head, obviously wanting me to eat more.
“When are you giving me over to Bishop?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Whenever I’m ready.”
I roll my eyes. Whatever that means. I’m over his silly answers. “You should just throw me overboard now because that’s obviously what Bishop has planned for me.”
Costi laughs, only there’s no humor there. “He doesn’t plan to kill any of you ladies.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No, he plans to sell all four of you to the highest bidder.”
Dinner ended in a rush. As soon as Costi told me what Bishop had planned for the other three daughters and myself, I excused myself from the table and came back to my cabin. I’ve been here for hours, wanting nothing more than to toss myself into the ocean so I don’t have to live a life of being enslaved to a madman who buys women for his own amusement.
I hear footsteps in the corridor and I sit up on the bed, drying my eyes as best I can with the edge of the blanket. I won’t let him see me cry.
I remember the first time Costi saw me cry. I was about eight years old, and my mother had died. I was full of little girl worries about who would take care of me. Who would bandage my wounds and read me books and get rid of the scary beasts in the closet? Who would hug me and love me as only she could? Costi took me to our special spot on the beach and held me as I cried.
He didn’t care that my tears soaked straight through his t-shirt. Most boys would probably try to get a girl to stop crying on their shoulder. Most boys would rather play football in the yard than deal with a sobbing, frightened kid.
But not Costi. Nope. He stroked my back and whispered everything would be ok.
He held me. He tried to cheer me up when he felt I needed it. He let me cry when I needed that. And he let me throw and smash things when he felt I needed that.
I never hid my feelings from him, because he never made me feel I should. But now, here on his ship, I won’t let him know my true feelings.
The door opens and Costi steps inside. “My apologies if I made you uncomfortable at dinner.”
I rise, marching over to where he stands in the center of the room, and slam a fist to his chest. “Will you stop with all the formalities? This isn’t you.”
He steps back, staring at the spot I just hit him. “Excuse me.”
“I know you, Costi. My apologies ,” I mock him.
“Tonight, you’ll be sleeping in my bed with me. Get your things.”
“What?” I whisper.
But he’s already gone, and I can only stare at the slammed door.
Once the shock wears off, I gather a few things I’ll need and change out of my gown and into a t-shirt and sweats.
Sleep with him? Why now?
I’ve been on this boat for days and have always slept in this room. It must be another power move, and it’s one I don’t want to lose.
I leave my cabin and make my way to Costi’s quarters. To annoy him, I knock extra hard on his door. And I keep knocking until I’m banging.
“Yoo-hoo,” I call out. “Anybody home?”
He’s shirtless when he opens the door. I have a hard time focusing on anything else but the dips and grooves of the muscles before me.
Am I drooling?
I step back, trying to gain my bearings as the boat rocks slightly.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside with a smirk on his face.
His skin is golden from the sun and his body looks like he spends hours in a gym. However, I know better. Each muscle is from commanding this ship. He’s probably never even stepped foot inside a gym.
It makes him much more appealing.
I can’t stop staring as Costi moves throughout the room, turning to put his rippling back muscles on display for me.
It’s inviting, and I wonder how on earth I’ll manage sleeping in the same bed with him.
“Why do I have to sleep here?” I ask.
“A few of my men are questionable. It’s best if you’re close to me, so I can keep my eye on you.”
At the mention of his men, I shiver. Does he think they might touch me, or worse, have their way with me?
I move closer to the king-sized bed with blue and gold sheets. “And I can trust you?” I’m not sure why I asked. There was a time in my life when Costi was the only person I trusted more than myself.
I slide under the golden comforter, even though I’m not tired at all. I think just knowing Costi will be in the same bed as me has my nerve endings on high alert. I can barely breathe as he lies down next to me.
“Do you remember the time we slept under the stars when we were twelve?”
As if I could forget. Late one night, Esmerelda went to check on her son and discovered he was missing. In a panic, she called Dad’s guards to search the grounds of her house. They found us sleeping beneath the stars, sharing a sleeping bag.
“Yes. I thought your mother was going to kill us when she found us in the middle of the night.”
Costi chuckles, turning his body to face me.
We lie, not touching, but our faces perfectly close to one another.
“I think the only reason I didn’t get into too much trouble was because you were there with me,” Costi says.
“You call getting grounded for a month not much trouble?”
He shifts his body an inch closer. “I thought for sure my mother would beat my ass.”
“I thought she was going to beat mine too.”
“I’d never let her touch you,” he breathes out.
“But you’ll kidnap me?”
Costi flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, things change.” He moves and turns off the light, leaving me in darkness.
With a tug, I shift to my side, taking the blanket with me as payback for my kidnapping. The soft comforter is not near enough compensation, so I huff and haul the sheet over too. Then, I stretch out, giving him an inch of space, because hello, kidnapped over here.
My display of childishness comes to an abrupt halt when he says in a husky voice, “Do you need help falling asleep? Because there are things I could do to relax you. Things you’d love so much, you’d beg me to do them every night.”
A fantasy of him sliding on top of me, naked and hard, immediately plays in my mind. If things were different, I’d watch it until the credits roll, but I hit the off button and ignore the ache in my core, because that’s exactly the reaction he expected, I’m sure. It’s all a game to him. But… I bet he doesn’t expect me to play the game back.
“Like what?” I coo. “Tea? Massage? I love massages.”
The second the last word comes out of my mouth, Costi springs into action, flipping me over. Goosebumps flare across my skin as he crawls over top of me, hovering over the small of my back while I lie on my stomach, pretending to be unaffected.
I’m not.
His warm hands are all over me, massaging my back and shoulders, melting my bones. A moan slips out when he dips lower, caressing my butt, creating a firestorm in my body.
I can’t think right now to tell him to stop. Even if I could, I want him to keep going.
As if Costi knows I’m struggling to maintain myself, he taunts, “Do you know how easy it would be for me to slide my thick cock into you right now? I know you want it. I know you’re fantasizing about it.”
I don’t move, feeling his hardness pressing into my ass. I’m just trying to breathe correctly.
“Do you like when my hands go here?” He rubs his hands over my shoulders and I let out another soft moan. “Or here?” His hands are magic, casting a spell over me, moving down to my thighs, squeezing and kneading them. He leans over, his mouth so close to my ear. “Don’t ever think I wouldn’t give you anything you could ever want.”
I swallow, turning over and gaining my composure as I stare into the wild eyes of Constantine. “Well, then, let me go.”
He slides off of me and smashes his hand into his pillow as he lies back down, getting comfortable. “Anything but that.”
My mouth is parched—a complete contrast to the wetness between my legs—as I close my eyes, trying to figure out if I made the wrong move by not letting Costi finish. By not letting that massage turn into so much more. Because I could have easily let him go all night. I’m sure I would have begged him not to stop too.
But I can’t think that way.
I let out a deep breath and toss my pillow under my head. “Fine. No tip for you then.”
I try to even out my breathing as I listen to Costi’s deep breaths.
Is he sleeping?
In our youth, Costi was always a deep sleeper, so I wait a few more minutes until I’m sure he’s asleep and slide the covers off my body.
I move as slow as molasses as I swing my feet to the ground and try not to make a sound as I stand from the bed.
It’s imperative I get a feel for this ship and see how many men are onboard. The thought of Costi’s men wanting to have their way with me worries me, but I need to plan an escape. Like a ninja, I tiptoe to the door and slip through it, leaving Costi sound asleep in the bed.