Chapter 2
BEING DRUNK ON A BOAT is fun, until it isn’t.
Then suddenly, the gentle swaying feels a whole lot like you might fall over the edge and drown.
At least, that’s how my night is starting to go.
It started with way too many cocktails, dancing, swimming and more food than I could possibly need.
Now, I’m standing on the upper deck, fingers curled around the railing, trying to get my head to stop spinning.
I focus on the horizon, afraid to look down because I will absolutely vomit.
“If we go down while we’re out here, can you tell everyone I’m six foot three and that I was a hero?”
I jerk, spinning around to see the strange guy who was with the captain yesterday.
Up close, he is even more nerdy than he looked from a distance.
He has thick-framed glasses, sandy blond hair brushed to the side, and light green eyes.
He seems friendly, though, and there is a quirky feel about him that is certainly unique.
“I’ll write that down,” I say, not missing a beat, “and commission a marble statue for the mainland so everyone knows how heroic you were.”
The guy grins, then sticks a hand out toward me. “Adrian Moretti,” he says, “former scholarship kid, current walking cautionary tale, future star of cable news disaster coverage.”
I shake his hand.
His palm is soft, cold, and a little damp.
He holds onto my fingers a touch too long, staring into my face with an intensity that has me feeling slightly uncomfortable.
“You looked like you were planning your own burial at sea,” he says.
“You’re not, right? If you are, can I have your spot in the lifeboat? I bruise like a peach.”
This is so unexpected I half-laugh, half-snort. It’s impossible to dislike someone so upfront about their lack of survival skills.
“I’m Grace. Not six foot three,” I say, “and if I go down, just tell people I was dignified, or at least not screaming. Maybe I rescued a small child, just for good measure.”
Adrian leans in. “I have got you covered. For now, I’m going to check out the electronics on this big boat. Maybe see how the lifeboat situation is. Did you know that whales could eat us if only they were a little more ambitious?”
I stare at him. “I hadn’t thought of that, no.”
He nods. “Something to think about. Goodnight, Grace.”
I laugh. “Bye, Adrian.”
Well, what a damn encounter that was.
I go back to looking over the railing, trying to ignore my stomach turning.
“Never a good idea to drink on a boat,” a voice growls next to me, low enough that I jump.
God, I really am in my own world. I hadn’t even heard Ace approaching, and as my eyes take him in, I notice that he looks a thousand times more dangerous in the moonlight. He stands just a little too close, like he’s making sure I don’t pitch myself into the black water.
I squeeze the rail harder. “So, I’ve figured out I may need to stay out here until sunrise. Or until I die. Whichever comes first.”
He doesn’t smile. Just leans his hip against the glass barrier and studies me, then the water, then me again. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”
My dignity is hanging by a thread, but it’s let him help me back or attempt to crawl, so I don’t fall over the edge, and I’m not crawling. “Promise you’re not going to take advantage of me.”
He stares at me, expression unreadable. Then, “I don’t do drunk women.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking, but he offers his arm anyway. I wrap my fingers around his forearm, trying not to focus on the muscle there. The yacht dips, my knees buckle, and before I can stop myself, my body collides into his. He just catches me, hands at my waist, and guides me upright.
“Oh my god,” I half laugh, half groan. “Could it get any worse?”
His lips twitch. “It could, you haven’t vomited yet. Don’t worry, I got you.”
He walks me down the hallways, catching my every stumble. “You always drink like this?” he asks.
“God, no. I’m barely allowed to eat food that isn’t perfectly prepared for me. I’m a dancer, my body has to be perfect, and so does my health. Alcohol doesn’t factor into that.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
I pause. “You do?”
“I’m a fighter.”
My eyes widen. Well, I knew he was something, but I didn’t pick that. Though it makes sense now. “A fighter?”
“Yeah.”
“Like a real fighter?”
He gives me a look.
“Sorry, I just...you mean like wrestling?”
“No,” he mutters. “I mean like fuckin’ fighting. MMA, mostly.”
“Damn. Are you good?”
“Champion.”
I have so many questions, like why the fuck did my father hire fighters to watch over us?
“Well, as much as I want to ask more questions, I am trying to not complete my shame by vomiting on you.”
He chuckles. “We’ll see.”
We reach my door and I fumble for the handle, managing to get it open only to knock a vase off the cabinet right beside it.
Somehow, Ace catches it with ninja reflexes.
He sets it back without comment. I’m rooted in place, suddenly too aware of him, of his size and the way his eyes don’t miss a thing.
“So, since you’re my security,” I say, my words less clear than I’d like. “Does that mean you have to check under my bed for monsters?”
“Trust me, if there were monsters, you’d hear them screaming. Get some sleep.”
I don’t want to. Not yet.
“What about...” I squint, and can’t remember the question, so I just lean on the door frame and let my head loll. “Do you think I’ll fall asleep and vomit and then die because we’re on a boat and I never drink?”
He gives me a long, slow look, then says, “You want me to sit and watch.”
“That’s creepy.”
Another snort. “Have it your way.”
I dare to take a step further inside, and barely make it to the edge of the bed before the room tilts, and I have to brace myself on a dresser.
“Need some help?” he asks from the doorway.
I shoot him a glare, but the effort makes me giggle. “You offering to undress me and tuck me in?”
His face doesn’t change. “I’ll tuck you in, the rest is your problem.”
“Rude,” I mumble.
Right then, the boat gives a massive, rolling heave and I tip forward, arms windmilling, and Ace has to lunge to steady me. I land against him, face pressed tight to his t-shirt, and holy shit, I inhale the faintest trace of soap, beer and ocean.
“You smell really good,” I say. He doesn’t move, his hands remain gripping my upper arms.
“You’re going to regret all this tomorrow,” he says, voice a little softer this time.
“Story of my life,” I whisper, and finally, with enormous effort, manage to pull free of him and flop face-first onto the bed.
He leaves me there, but before he does, I feel the blanket settle over my shoulders and hear his footsteps fade down the hall. If I could move, I’d chase after him. Instead, I close my eyes, let the world rock and spin, and wonder what exactly I’d set in motion by letting him catch me.
“WHY SHOULD SHE GET the first session just because her daddy paid for this trip?” Rachel snaps, arms folded across her chest as we stand outside the spa room.
The small Thai lady who runs the spa room stares at Rachel, her face laced with confusion. Her eyes dart frantically to mine, no doubt hoping I can get her out of this before it escalates.
“If it matters that much to you, Rachel,” I mutter. “Go first.”
Rachel flicks her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I will.”
“Fantastic,” I say, waving her off with my hand.
She scowls at me, muttering something about being a rich bitch, before disappearing into the room.
I feel sorry for the lady, I truly do. Rachel is the last person I would ever want to massage.
Tatiana, who is standing beside me, leans in and whispers, “You know, we could absolutely throw her overboard. Nobody would ever know.”
I laugh. “Tempting, but no. I am going to the top deck to do some mindless scrolling and sunbake.”
“Is Aggie still up there?” asks, tying her hair into a knot on the top of her head.
I nod. “Yep, that girl lives in the sun.”
“I’ll stay and wait for my massage, I can’t be letting anyone else get in before me.”
I grin. “Don’t let them beat you.”
Tatiana chuckles. “Never.”
I leave her there and make my way to the upper deck to find Aggie, already splayed across a striped lounge with her headphones on.
Her skin is already golden, as if it is effortless for her to not get burned.
I flop onto the chair beside her, and she turns, staring at me as she lifts her sunglasses and stares.
“I thought you were getting a massage?” she asks, removing a single bud.
“Rachel is holding the spa hostage. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to her shit,” I say, squinting at the horizon.
Aggie pulls a bottle of coconut water from her bag and hands it over. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“The only person on this floating palace who could really use a massage is that small, lovely Thai lady.”
Oh, I have no doubt.
I take a sip, swallowing the cold liquid. I’m not the biggest fan of coconut water, but I know how good it is for me so I take one for the team. Aggie frowns at her phone, tapping the screen. “The internet has stopped working.”
I glance at my phone to see mine has dropped out, too. “Maybe we hit a dead zone,” I offer. But it doesn’t sit right—the Virtue is equipped with enough satellite tech to stream porn on Mars.
Aggie frowns. “Didn’t your dad say this thing had, like, military-grade WIFI?”
“Yeah, apparently so. I’ll go see if I can find out what’s going on. Adrian might know, he is a tech guy. Have you met him yet?”
Aggie raises her brows, then nods. “Oh yes. He told me that the sun isn’t dangerous and I can lay out here safely all day, so you heard it here first.”
I laugh. “Gosh, he is odd. I’ll go see what I can find out.”
With a sigh, I push to my feet and head towards the large office on board where the captain spends most of his time.
I reach the large wooden door and am about to knock when I hear my father’s assistant, Joel, on speaker.
I would recognize that voice anywhere. It’s nasal, smug, and always a little too loud.
He has this weird high-pitched squeak that I swear I hear in my nightmares.
I pause, not sure why, just curiosity, I guess.
“...scheduled port still confirmed?” Joel’s voice crackles.
The captain’s voice, lower and unhurried, answers, “We’re on time. No deviations yet. Everything is going as planned. We have just dropped the internet out to ensure no contact is made outside.”
I freeze.
What the fuck is he talking about?
“Good. The girls are going to have a problem with the internet, how do you plan on handling that?”
“I’ll tell them there has been a technical error, and we will fix it when we dock.”
“Very good,” Joel murmurs. “We can’t risk this going wrong. Bentley has invested basically everything into ensuring those girls arrive where we need them, they are worth more than you are, so don’t make any mistakes.”
“I hear you, loud and clear. I will let you know if we run into any troubles, but so far, they have no idea we’re not going where we promised.”
My skin prickles, like an uncomfortable bug crawling over my flesh.
I feel like I can’t breathe, hell, maybe I’m not.
“Are you confident in the security detail? We don’t need to run into any problems. I would have screened them better, but Bentley was adamant we were out of time.”
“No issues. They are doing their job.”
Joel makes a pleased sound. “And you’re certain the girls don’t suspect anything?”
The captain grunts. “They still think this is some little luxury reward vacation that Bentley provided for all their hard work. They have no idea they are going to be sold to a bunch of creepy, perverted fucks for a fuck load of money.”
“Can you believe that man is actually sellin’ his own fucking kid. That is something.”
I might vomit.
“Yeah, he’s a cold motherfucker. But you can tell him everything is on track.”
Joel grunts, again, sounding pleased. “Good, keep it that way. If chaos unleashes, this whole plan will be ruined. Those girls are worth a fortune and if anything goes wrong, you’re going to suffer for it.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll check in again later tonight. No more calls until then.”
The line clicks off. I feel nausea climb my throat, not from seasickness or alcohol this time.
What the fuck is happening?
What does he mean we’re worth a fortune and we are being sold for money?
Where the fuck are they taking us? Is this some sort of brand deal?
Are they selling us to some kind of dancing institution?
I don’t understand. Surely it doesn’t mean what it sounds like.
My heart is slamming against my ribcage, but I know I need to move.
If the captain opens the door right now, he will see me, and I will have no excuse for being here.
I backpedal, soft as I can, until I’m around the corner, my breath coming short and sharp.
Bile burns my throat. I want to run to my room, lock the door, but instead I hurry up to the deck, praying Aggie’s still there, because I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do now.
If they’re going to sell us, that can only mean one thing, right?
Trafficking. Why would my father sell his only daughter, though?
Maybe I got it wrong, either way I need to talk to the girls about it.
Aggie’s on her phone, muttering curses at the dead connection. When she sees my face, she sits up straight. “What happened? You look like you saw a ghost.”
I drop into the chair beside her and try to keep my voice steady. “I just heard the captain talking to Joel.”
“Joel?” Aggie repeats. “As in that sniffling little rat of an assistant your father hired?”
I nod.
“Aggie, they’re not taking us wherever we were supposed to go. They said something about a transfer and selling us. About us being worth a fortune. About security making sure we stay put.”
Aggie blinks in confusion. “What? You’re not making any sense.”
I take a shaky breath, pressing my hands together in my lap and tell her everything I just heard. Her face twists, and I wonder if that fear is the same one that is washed over my own features.
“I...I don’t really understand. They’re selling us? Are you sure that’s what you heard? Maybe they have done some sort of deal for us and our dancing?”
I stare at her, not wanting to believe that is even possible, and yet, deep down, I know it is. Girls get kidnapped and trafficked all the time. But by my own father? He is a horrible, cold man but would he truly sell me just like that?
It doesn’t make sense.
“I honestly don’t know, all I know is that I heard what I heard. They said they couldn’t believe my own father was selling me. What else could that mean?”
Aggie’s eyes grow a little sad. “I’m scared.”
I nod, taking a shaky breath. “I know, me too. But we have to do something because whatever is waiting for us at the other end, is really bad.”
Aggie pushes to her feet. “Let’s find Tati, we need to get the fuck off this yacht.”
She’s not wrong.
The only problem is, how?