Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
It was business as usual the next day. The skeleton crew had returned from their Christmas break. The lines were cast off, and Russian Thunder, bustling with activity, set sail. Encouraged by fair weather and a following wind, they headed for Isla Celeste.
Amber was dressed immaculately in her uniform, ready to start her official duties for the day with her hair neatly tied back.
There was plenty for her to do, but that didn’t stop her thinking and grieving for Alexei.
People probably thought he was the last person on earth to feel sorry for, but she did feel sorry for him because he refused to change.
He shunned all affection, she mused as she set out his coffee tray. And who was she to come on board Alexei’s yacht and try to make him fit the mold she thought he should fit?
She hadn’t slept last night after throwing him out of her cabin.
She hadn’t wasted her time either. She’d propped Mr. Mouse up next to her laptop and had written her first article, which she’d delivered to Hard News this morning before starting work.
Part One told the exciting tale of life on board a billionaire’s yacht.
It was the sort of thing that fascinated her.
She’d write the next installment when they reached Isla Celeste and she was introduced to the other part of Alexei’s life: his life in polo.
Whatever she wrote, she would never betray his trust. He’d confided in her, and she valued that.
She would perpetuate the myth of a mystery man who had sprung full-formed from the wild steppes of Russia.
Any more detail and she might inadvertently put him in danger.
Anything more and her heart would be in even more danger than it was already, she thought as she lifted his tray of coffee to take it to him.
He was on the phone when Amber arrived on deck. He’d been lounging at the dining table, making a call too important to break off and look at her when she arrived. He pointed to where he wanted her to put the tray. He sensed Amber’s silent rage as he cut the call and finally looked at her. “Amber…”
“Yes, sir?”
“I missed you last night.”
“Would you like me to pour the coffee, sir?”
“No,” he snapped, irritated by her manner. “I would like you to look at me when I speak to you.”
“Is that an order, sir?”
“Stop this. I don’t know what happened last night, but I do know you’re overreacting again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Amber—”
“My apologies, sir, but I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.”
He swore viciously in Russian. “You’re about as apologetic as a—”
“As a mouse, sir?”
Her tone had changed from studiously polite to seriously scathing. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing, sir. Can I get you anything else?”
“I’d like Amber back, please.”
She finally snapped. “Then don’t shout in my face, don’t order me about, and don’t point when you want something done.
For once, try to treat me like a human being with feelings rather than a cold stone god like you.
Whether I’m crew or just your latest fuck buddy, I refuse to be subjected to any more of your—”
“You refuse?” he cut in mildly.
“Don’t start that. I’m not afraid of you, Alexei Riga,” she assured him, balling her hands into fists.
“I should hope not,” he agreed.
They stared at each other unblinking for a moment. He longed to laugh, to smile, to draw Amber into his arms, and to hell with keeping her at arm’s length for her own good. “Would you like to know who was on the phone?”
She shook her head and tightened her lips. “I can’t see that it’s any of my business.”
“May I suggest you make it your business? Celina… Do you remember her?”
“Of course I remember her,” Amber exclaimed, her face lighting up like the Fourth of July. “I can’t believe you were talking to Celina. How is she?”
“All the women are being well cared for. I told her to let them know they could expect Christmas gifts from you.”
“But how will I get gifts to them now?” She frowned. “It’s too late for Christmas.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he was happy to tell her.
“Some Russians observe two Christmases. The first on December the twenty-fifth, and the second on January seventh, so there’s plenty of time for your gifts to reach them—and you can leave the delivery to my people.
They’ll get the gifts,” he reassured her. “All you have to do is choose them.”
“I overreacted,” she admitted, frowning heavily. “I attacked you without listening.”
“Equally, I could have covered the mouthpiece and told you who I was talking to.” He shrugged and slanted a smile. “Truce?” he suggested. Amber was still punishing her lip. He stood and smoothed it with his fingertip. “Don’t frown. You’ve got Isla Celeste to look forward to.”
“The island,” she murmured. Her face was transfixed as she stared across the sea.
“How does it make you feel?” he asked with interest. He could remember his own first sight of Isla Celeste and the excitement that had lit inside him at the thought of what he might find there.
Apart from the fact that she was hopelessly in love with a man who refused to accept that he was capable of giving and receiving love, she felt optimistic. “It would take about a year to tell you how I feel,” she said truthfully.
“Better make a start,” Alexei suggested dryly.
“I remember a film about a fictional island and a woman singing a siren song to lure people there—don’t worry, I won’t start singing.
I wouldn’t want to be locked up.” But she did feel the same tug and a thrill of anticipation as she stared at the now clearly defined volcanic crags and peaks rearing up out of the sea.
The island had a lush green heart, and she could see the glint of water running through it.
Circled by ivory sand and topped by fluffy white clouds, Isla Celeste looked magical.
“Gorgeous,” she murmured. “I can’t wait for us to dock so I can explore.
But for now, it’s back to the galley,” she said, remembering the rest of her duties.
“Sir?” Alexei reminded her in a low, amused tone. “Or have I been demoted?”
“You probably should be,” she agreed. “But…is there anything else I can get you?” She asked this pleasantly.
She was done with fantasies, done with getting prickly too.
She had no right to judge Alexei. He was right in saying she was crew.
That was why she’d been brought on board in the first place. “Anything?” she pressed.
He hesitated a moment, and then said, “No, thank you. If you want to get back, there’s nothing stopping you.”
Not even you, she thought.
The welcoming committee on the quayside was enough to distract anyone from the scenic panorama, let alone any excitement on board Russian Thunder.
There was enough drama on shore to please the sternest critic.
Three incredible-looking men were waiting for Alexei in various poses of loose-limbed relaxation.
They were instantly recognizable from Blood and Thunder posters.
They were all top-flight athletes, and all possessed the same interesting combination of grace and brute strength as Alexei.
According to what Amber had read, they’d all had a tough upbringing and had achieved similar levels of success to Alexei.
Dante, the Argentinian, was leaning back against a wall, dark glasses propped on top of his head to keep his thick, inky-black Romani locks away from his proud, hard face.
He sprang into action the instant Alexei tossed the first mooring line to shore.
Diego, the Spaniard, caught the second line.
The man standing in the shadows must be Cesar, Amber reasoned.
He was always pictured in silhouette, or half-hidden by the rest of the team, so she’d never had clear sight of him, and she couldn’t see him clearly now.
A lot of backslapping and intricate handshakes were exchanged as the four team members were reunited. Watching them, she felt totally excluded, which she was. Alexei hadn’t called her to join them. There was no reason why he would.
Going belowdecks, she picked up the things she’d need on shore, and then followed the rest of the crew off the superyacht and onto the crew bus.
Alexei and his friends had roared off in a brand-new, top-of-the-range SUV convertible.
So much for her ability to melt ice, Amber reflected dryly as she settled onto the rigid metal seat at the front of the bus.
She got the impression that the upcoming Russian Christmas Alexei had mentioned would be a lot less exciting than the first.
He was going to keep his distance from Amber.
Let her get her story, and then let her go home where she was safe.
Her lodgings at Cesar’s in the bunkhouse gave him the separation he needed.
Seeing her every day had wrought havoc with his good intentions.
He would return to Russian Thunder each night to sleep alone.
He should have remembered her love of horses.
She was in the stable block when he arrived to check his ponies.
“Alexei.” Her voice was measured as she turned to face him. She was as calm and quiet as anyone who loved being around animals tended to be. “I’m off-duty. I hope you don’t mind my coming here.”
“Not at all.”
She was stroking his favorite mare, a notoriously difficult animal that never let anyone close to her but him. “I didn’t expect to find you here,” he admitted, leaning over the stall door.