Chapter 18 #2
But in the end, it didn’t matter. No one could save me from the choice I’d made. Not even Easton.
The next morning, I had barely settled into my room when a knock shattered the silence.
Colson didn’t wait for an invitation; he simply stepped inside, exuding the casual authority that defined him.
He was dressed in pressed shorts and a polo shirt, his muscular legs drawing my gaze despite everything.
They were a weakness of mine, a reminder of how easily he could command my attention—even when I wished he wouldn't.
“We’re taking my yacht out. Get dressed and don’t wear those terry shorts I hate.
A dress would be better,” he ordered, closing the door behind him.
He remained there, watching me, clearly expecting me to change in front of him.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen my naked body before, but it still felt invasive.
My skin prickled as I considered how close he was to catching the lingering scent of Easton’s cologne on me.
I walked to the closet, my mind racing as I selected a sleeveless dress with a subtle floral pattern.
It was pretty, understated, the kind of thing Colson would approve of.
I stripped off the dress shirt I’d slept in—his shirt—and hung it on the island before slipping into the dress.
The fabric was cool against my skin, but I could still feel Colson’s eyes on me, every nerve on edge.
Suddenly, he was behind me, his hands cupping my breasts, his body pressing against mine. The dress bunched up as he ground against me, his breath hot against my ear. “I liked what you did last night,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.
What was I supposed to say to that? I was trapped, and we both knew it. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible.
He responded by tweaking my nipples between his fingers, sending a shiver down my spine. “I can’t wait to make you my wife. Now, get dressed,” he said, punctuating his command with a gentle slap on my ass.
I exhaled a shaky breath as he stepped away, but when I emerged from the closet, he was still there, sitting on the corner of my bed, watching me. His eyes were unreadable, but I knew better than to underestimate him.
“I thought your yacht was in Nice,” I said, trying to divert the tension.
A smirk tugged at his lips. “It is. But I’m a wealthy man, Josephine. I have more than one yacht. This one isn’t as big, but it’s just as grand.”
“I have no doubt,” I murmured, brushing my hair with deliberate care, every movement an effort to maintain control.
He approached me then, closing the distance between us in a few strides, and sealed his mouth over mine.
The kiss was full of passion, but I couldn’t relax.
I would be trapped on the water with him, isolated, with no way to escape.
It surprised me that after what happened yesterday and the tension with the caterer, he was willing to let it go—at least for now.
After I finished dressing, Colson took my hand, guiding me out of the room as if last night’s tension had dissolved into thin air.
His grip was firm yet strangely gentle, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that his sudden shift in attitude was just another facet of his personality.
He was keeping me close, almost possessively so, as if I might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight.
As we descended the grand staircase, he didn’t let go of my hand, his thumb tracing absent patterns on my skin.
It was a disconcerting contrast to the coldness I’d felt from him just hours ago, and it kept me on edge.
His unpredictable nature made me wary; every kindness felt like it could be a prelude to something more sinister.
In the limo, Colson slid in beside me, still holding my hand.
His proximity was suffocating, and I could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my dress.
He didn’t say much during the ride, only offering a few comments about the weather and the beauty of the day, but his tone was light, almost casual.
It was as if the conversation at dinner hadn’t happened, as if he hadn’t demanded something so deeply personal from me.
But I wasn’t fooled. I knew better than to believe this was anything more than a temporary reprieve. Once we were on the water, away from prying eyes and ears, I feared he would show his true colors again.
When we arrived at the marina, I was struck by the sheer size of the vessel waiting for us.
It wasn’t just any boat; it was a floating palace.
The yacht gleamed under the morning sun, its sleek, pristine hull reflecting the light in a way that made it look almost otherworldly.
It was vast, with multiple decks that seemed to stretch on forever, each one promising luxury beyond imagination.
As we approached, the captain and several crew members stood at attention on the dock, their white uniforms crisp and immaculate.
Colson acknowledged them with a nod, still keeping me close, his hand never leaving mine.
They greeted us with respectful smiles, but I noticed how their eyes flicked to Colson with a mix of reverence and wariness. They knew who they were dealing with.
The yacht itself was a masterpiece of opulence. The exterior was sleek and modern, all smooth lines and polished surfaces, with expansive windows that hinted at the luxury within. As we stepped aboard, I was immediately struck by the elegance of the interior.
The deck was laid with teak wood, warm and inviting, and the outdoor lounge area was furnished with plush, cream-colored seating that looked almost too perfect to touch.
The cushions were accented with navy and gold, the colors of royalty, and the tables were adorned with fresh flowers that filled the air with a subtle, intoxicating fragrance.
Inside, the main salon was nothing short of breathtaking.
The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the marina, and the space was filled with light that danced off the marble floors and crystal chandeliers.
Every detail screamed wealth—silk drapes, hand-carved woodwork, and art that I was certain cost more than I could ever dream of.
There was a grand piano in one corner, its polished black surface gleaming, and a bar stocked with an array of the finest spirits.
Colson guided me through the space, his hand on the small of my back, as if showing off a prized possession. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Yes,” I replied, barely able to find my voice. “It’s…incredible.”
He smiled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “This is where we’ll spend the day. Just the two of us.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine. Alone with him, in the middle of the ocean, with no one to intervene if things took a darker turn. I forced myself to breathe, to remain calm. I had to keep my wits about me, to stay one step ahead of whatever game he was playing.
As we reached the upper deck, the crew began their preparations to cast off.
The yacht’s engines hummed to life, a low, powerful sound that vibrated through the entire vessel.
Colson led me to a set of lounge chairs at the bow, where we could watch the marina fade into the distance as we set out to sea.
He sat beside me, still holding my hand, and for a moment, it almost felt peaceful. But I knew better. This was just the calm before the storm, and I had to be ready for whatever came next.