Chapter 40
MELODY
Iwoke to sunlight warm on my face and the gentle sound of water. For a moment, I was disoriented. I wasn’t in my bed and definitely wasn’t in my room. My mind was spinning with confusion for a few terrifying seconds.
And then I felt Austin beside me.
My panic immediately resolved. I was fine. The yacht. We were on a yacht in Tahiti. Well, we had been in Tahiti, but now we were sailing in the open water.
I opened my eyes to find him already awake, lying on his back with his hands clasped behind his head, looking completely at ease. When he noticed I was awake, he turned his head and smirked at me.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.
“Good morning.” I pushed myself up on my elbows, trying to get my bearings. “Did we sleep up here all night?”
“You fell asleep under the stars. I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” His smirk softened into something gentler. “You looked peaceful. I thought you might want to give your soul all the help it could get.”
I laughed. “My soul feels pretty damn good.”
I looked around, taking in our surroundings in the daylight. We were still on the top deck on the cushions that were miraculously comfortable.
“We’re not moving,” I said.
“No. We’re anchored now.”
I sat up and looked around. We were in the most beautiful cove I had ever seen.
The water was impossibly clear, shifting from pale turquoise near the shore to deep sapphire further out. A pristine beach curved in a crescent shape, palm trees swaying in the morning breeze. Behind the beach, dense tropical foliage created a wall of green that looked almost primordial.
“Wow. Seriously, wow. This is the kind of thing that’s good for the soul.”
“Beautiful, right? We anchored here around three in the morning. Thought you’d like to wake up to this view.”
“It’s incredible.” But even as I said it, my attention shifted back to him. Shirtless, sun-bronzed, looking like every beach fantasy I ever had. “Although the view right here isn’t bad either.”
He laughed. “Smooth.”
“I try.” I stretched, working out the kinks from sleeping without a pillow. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to.”
“You were tired. All that travel catches up with you.”
I smiled and then it slipped off my face. “Oh shit.”
“What?” Austin asked with confusion.
“What time is it?” I asked, suddenly panicked.
“About eight. Why?”
“Cleo. I never texted Cleo.” I looked around frantically for my phone. “She’s going to think I’m dead. Or kidnapped. Or—where’s my phone?”
“You told her you were going to be in Tahiti,” he said.
“Yes, but she wanted me to let her know you didn’t kill me.”
His brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
I waved my hand. “I have to text her. She probably already called the Coast Guard or the FBI. Scotland Yard. Whoever the authority is out here.”
“Why in the hell would she call the FBI?”
“Because she was worried you might be a serial killer.”
He blinked, then frowned. “Are you drunk?”
“No. It’s Cleo. You don’t know her.”
“Clearly.”
“I have to call her. Where did I leave my phone?”
“Probably in our stateroom with the rest of your stuff.”
“I need to—” I started to get up, but Austin caught my hand.
“Relax. I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe a little worried, but fine.”
“You don’t know Cleo. If she couldn’t get some kind of agency to come after us, she would hire mercenary pirates to track us down in international waters.”
Austin’s expression suggested he wasn’t entirely sure I was joking. “Mercenary pirates?”
“She’s very thorough when it comes to my safety.” I stood, wrapping the blanket around myself. “I need to call her. Now. Before she does something dramatic.”
“Want me to walk you down?”
“I’ve got it. You stay here and enjoy the sun. Be shirtless. Do your thing.”
He grinned. “My thing?”
“You know what I mean. Sit here and look all hot and sexy.”
I hurried down to the stateroom, the yacht swaying gently beneath my feet. I’d been worried about seasickness before we left, but the motion was actually soothing. Almost romantic, the way the boat rocked like a gentle cradle.
I was pretty sure that’s why I slept so well. That and being in his arms with the fresh air surrounding us.
Our stateroom looked even more luxurious in the morning light streaming through the windows. My suitcase was in the corner where I had left it, and my phone was on the nightstand, exactly where I’d plugged it in to charge.
Twenty-three notifications. Oh no.
I grabbed the phone and connected to the yacht’s Wi-Fi, immediately calling Cleo.
She answered on the first ring. “ARE YOU ALIVE?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Yes, I’m alive. I’m sorry, I meant to text but as soon as we landed we went straight for the yacht.”
“Thirty-four hours, Melody! You’ve been gone for thirty-four hours with no contact.
Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?
Do you have any concept of the scenarios I’ve imagined?
I was so close to coming for you.” I could practically hear her pinching her fingers together. “I almost called the FBI.”
“I know, I’m sorry, I just got caught up.”
“No. No ‘just.’ There is no ‘just’ that excuses this. What if something had happened to you? What if Austin turned out to be a secret serial killer? What if the yacht sank? What if pirates boarded and kidnapped you? They would love to get their hands on a Bancroft.”
“Funny you should mention pirates—”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t make jokes right now. I’m too angry for jokes.”
But I could hear the relief in her voice underneath the anger. I couldn’t help grinning as I wandered around the stateroom, phone pressed to my ear.
“I really am sorry, Cleo. I fell asleep under the stars last night and I just—I forgot about everything else.”
There was a pause. Then, in a slightly less furious tone: “Under the stars?”
“Yeah. On the top deck. It was beautiful.”
“Hmm.” Another pause. “And Austin?”
“Is perfect. The yacht is perfect. Tahiti is perfect, what little I saw of it. Everything is amazing.” I caught sight of myself in the mirror, my hair a mess, my dress wrinkled, but smiling like an idiot. “Everything is really, really good.”
“Good enough to make me worry I would have to identify your body?”
“I’m sorry. Really. I should have texted.”
“Yes, you should have.” But her tone had softened. “But I’m glad you’re happy. Even if you are being irresponsible and making terrible life choices.”
“Terrible but amazing life choices.”
“Still terrible. But I’ll allow it.” I heard rustling on her end. “Now tell me everything. Is the yacht huge? Is the crew hot? Have you been in the ocean yet? Have you and Austin christened the yacht?”
“Cleo!”
“What? I’m living vicariously through you. The least you can do is give me details after giving me a near panic attack.”
I launched into a description of the yacht, the crew, the incredible cove we’d woken up in. Cleo asked a million questions, and I answered them all while exploring the stateroom more thoroughly.
The bathroom had a cabinet full of expensive skincare products, the kind I usually only used when I got PR packages. I started opening bottles, examining labels, already planning which ones to use.
“Hold on,” Cleo said. “Someone’s calling me.”
“Who?”
“Your mom.”
“Ha ha.”
“No, I’m serious,” Cleo said.
“Why would she be calling you?”
“Because you haven’t texted her in thirty-four hours either, genius. She probably thinks you’re dead too.”
“Oh god.”
“Yeah. I’m going to tell her you’re alive and let you deal with explaining why you ghosted everyone who cares about you.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. You were too busy being swept off your feet by a billionaire on a yacht in Tahiti. Which, honestly? Valid reason. But still. Text your mother.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And me. Every day. Multiple times a day.”
“Multiple times?”
“Melody.”
“Okay! Okay. Multiple times. I promise.”
“Good. Now I have to go call your mother back before she has me trace your location.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember to be more aware.”
“Good. Love you. Don’t die.”
“Love you too. And I’ll try my best not to die.”
She hung up, and I immediately texted my mother, then pulled up Instagram to post a quick story—just the view from our stateroom window, the ocean stretching to the horizon. Captioned it with a couple emojis. I didn’t need words.
I was in the middle of applying some of the expensive facial serum when Austin appeared in the doorway.
“There you are. I was coming to rescue you but got caught up talking to Jean-Pierre.”
“Jean-Pierre?”
“The chef. He’s planning something elaborate for dinner tonight and wanted my input.” He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with amusement. “You okay? Cleo didn’t have a complete meltdown?”
“Oh, she had a complete meltdown. But she’s okay now. Mostly.” I capped the serum and turned to face him.
He laughed, pushing off the doorframe to come closer. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you forgot about your phone last night. Means you were too present with me to think about anything else.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re a good distraction?”
“The best distraction.” He pulled me close, and I went willingly. “Now come on. Breakfast is ready, and then we’re going to the beach.”
“The beach? Really?”
“Really. Unless you’d rather stay on the yacht?”
“No! Beach. Definitely beach.” I looked down at myself. “But I should probably change first.”
“Probably. Although I’d be fine with you wearing that dress all day.”
“It’s wrinkled and I slept in it.”
“Still looks good on you.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it.”
I did. God help me, I really did.
We made our way up to the main deck, where breakfast was laid out on the outdoor dining table. The crew had set everything up beautifully—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs and coffee that smelled like heaven.
A woman in a crisp white polo approached with a smile. “Good morning, Ms. Stephens. I’m Claire, your chief steward. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Juice?”
“Coffee would be amazing. Thank you.”
“Of course. And just so you know, if you need anything at all during your stay—anything—just ask. We’re here to make your vacation perfect.”
Over breakfast, we met more of the crew. The boatswain, Marco, stopped by to explain the water activities available. The first mate checked in about our plans for the day. Everyone was friendly, professional, clearly passionate about making our experience memorable.
I knew it was probably normal for Austin. He was raised with staff in the house. I, however, was not. I didn’t know how to deal with people waiting on me hand and foot. It made me feel very self-conscious.
“This is nuts,” I said to Austin between bites of the flakiest croissant I’d ever tasted. “All these people, just taking care of us.”
“That’s what they’re here for.”
“I know, but I’m not used to it.”
“You’ll get used to it.” He squeezed my hand. “This week, you’re going to be pampered and spoiled and treated like royalty. And you’re going to enjoy every second.”
“Is that an order?”
“Consider it a strong suggestion.”
After breakfast, we went back to the stateroom to change into swimwear. I put on my favorite one-piece. It was a vibrant blue that I’d spent way too long picking out. I added a gauzy cover-up and a sunhat as well.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Austin was already in his swim trunks, and I had to take a moment to appreciate the view. All those muscles. That tan. Damn. He was the definition of eye candy.
“Ready?” he asked.
And willing. “Yep.”
We headed to the swim platform where the tender boat was waiting. Marco helped us aboard, and then we were skimming across the crystal-clear water toward the beach.
The sun was warm on my skin. The wind whipped my hair. Austin’s hand was firm on my thigh. This was what happiness felt like. Not the yacht or the luxury or the exotic location.
Just this. Being with someone who chose me. A man that made me feel like the most important person in his world.
The tender boat pulled up to the beach, and Austin jumped out first, then helped me down onto the sand.
And we were in paradise.