“Put your bags down, and I’ll show you around,” Captain Mark says. He’s holding a clipboard under his arm. We do as he asks and follow him around the yacht. “On this level, you have the living area and formal dining, cinema, and two bathrooms.” Three huge white couches are around an apricot marble coffee table. The floors are all herringbone dark timber with big cream exotic rugs. Stunning art hangs on the walls.
It is beautiful . . . I’ll give it that.
“Wow.” Everyone gushes in awe.
I trail behind while desperately trying to devise an escape plan.
Man overboard is sounding very fucking appealing.
“Upstairs.” He takes the stairs, and we follow him up. “Another large living area, casual dining, and cocktail bar. There are four guest bedrooms on this floor.”
“Oh my god.” Hayden’s eyes are the size of saucers, and she grabs my hand. “Can you believe this place, babe?” she whispers in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Meh . . . I raise my eyebrow as I look around . . . my yacht is better.
“Top floor, master suite.” We walk up another level, which is all bedroom, with 360-degree views. A huge bathroom with a sunken spa bath and walk-in his-and-hers wardrobes.
Now this is nice.
“Through here”—he slides open a hidden door—“is the nursery. Mr. Masters likes his children close.” We peer in to see two cots and two single beds. Toys and books are all displayed. The room is all pastels and decorated prettily.
“Is there a nanny on board when they’re here?” Hayden asks.
“No. They don’t have a nanny; they do all the parenting themselves.”
Hayden smiles over at me and squeezes my hand. “I like them already,” she whispers. “I would never have a nanny.”
I frown. What? No nanny . . . at all . . . like, ever?
When do you get to fuck your wife if you don’t have a nanny? Are you supposed to get sex for five minutes only at night or something? Ugh . . . that won’t be happening in my household.
I’ll have four nannies on rotation.
Actually . . . I smile as I remember something.
Masters’s wife was his nanny. She’s fucking hot too.
I bite my lip to hide my smile. Dirty bastard. Wonder how that went down?
“Let’s go down to belowdecks, where you’ll be staying,” Captain Mark continues. We follow him down three levels. “This is the kitchen.”
He shows us around. “Helga, the cook, will be here this afternoon. You will all rotate being her assistant. She runs a tight ship.” He frowns and pauses as if choosing his words carefully. “She’s an interesting character.”
Great, that’s code for she’s a bitch.
“Here’s the staff living quarters. Three bedrooms. One is for Helga; she rooms alone. A double with two single beds, and the other has four sets of bunk beds.”
“Hayden and I have the double,” I announce before anyone else has the chance to.
“Yeah, yeah,” they all mutter.
“So.” Captain Mark smiles. “That’s our lady. I hope you’ll be very comfortable and happy here. Take the morning to settle in and make yourself at home. This afternoon we’ll do some training, and then our guests will be joining us around six p.m.”
“How long will they be on board for?” I ask.
“Two days.”
“So . . . what happens then?” Basil asks.
“This vessel is chartered whenever Mr. Masters isn’t using it. We pick up another group on Wednesday.”
“Ah, okay,” Basil replies. “We keep working even when the owner isn’t here.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you got a guest list?” I ask. “I’ll look over it and begin to get everything sorted out.”
“Yes, here it is.” He passes over the clipboard. “I’ll see you all in a few hours.” He disappears up the stairs, and everyone begins to walk around and do their thing. I fold back the piece of paper and read the list.
Julian Masters
Spencer Jones
Sebastian Garcia
Fuck.
I put the folder down immediately. No need to read the rest of the guests.
The first three are the biggest pranksters on earth. I will not last one hour with them, let alone forty-eight.
This is a living nightmare.
They’re going to blow my cover and tell Hayden, and fuck it, she doesn’t love me enough yet. She’ll leave me for lying to her.
Who could blame her?
For weeks, I’ve been trying to work out how to tell her who I am, but we’re having so much fun that we haven’t even had the discussion about what’s happening when this is all over. I don’t want her to find out that I’ve been lying to her like this. I need to be the one to tell her.
Fuck.
It’s weird that she hasn’t told me she loved me since that night of our first fight over six weeks ago—although we often say the words I don’t love you, which to me are code for I do . . . but what if to her they’re not?
What if it’s just something she says?
I drag my hand through my hair, sick to my stomach.
I want Hayden in my life. The thought of losing her because of a lie . . . tightens my chest.
I follow her down the stairs with our backpacks and walk into our room. It’s little and doesn’t have a window. We do have privacy, though, which is the main thing.
There’s a wardrobe and a desk in the corner. Hayden begins to unpack her things into the drawers. I sit down on the bed as I watch her.
I have to tell her.
“Beautiful yacht, huh?” I say.
“Incredible.” She folds her shirt. “This is going to be the job of a lifetime.”
My heart is hammering in my chest. “Can you imagine yourself ever owning a yacht like this?”
“Me?” She laughs. “No way.”
“You wouldn’t want to have money?” I ask. “Like this-yacht type of money?”
“God no, I hate rich people.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Do you know any?”
“Not really.” She keeps folding her clothes.
“That’s a tad discriminatory, don’t you think?”
She looks over at me and stops what she’s doing and then comes and sits on my lap. I wrap my arms around her as she kisses my lips softly. “I love the life we have, Christopher.”
I stare up at her, and she brushes the hair back from my face as she looks down at me. “You don’t need to worry that you don’t have money.”
Huh?
“There is so much to love about us.” She kisses the tip of my nose. “I love the fact that you’re my best friend.” She kisses me with a smile. “I love that you give so much to everything you do. I love that you’re kind and loving. I love that you look after me. You’re perfect just as you are.”
My eyes search hers. I’m speechless.
There is not a single word in my head. For all my life I have wanted to hear those words, that someone wanted me for me.
I love this woman.
She smiles softly as she hugs me tight.
“I need to tell you something,” I murmur.
She takes her shirt off over her head. “And . . . I need to show you something.” She stands and unlatches her bra; her full breasts fall free, and unable to stop myself, I reach up and cup one in my hand. Instantly my cock begins to thump. “Go on, baby, you were saying,” she murmurs as she bends and kisses me. My hand slides up her thigh and underneath her panties.
Concentrate.
Hot, soft, wet lips in her panties steal my thoughts. Fuck . . . she feels good.
“You were saying?”
“I’m not a teacher,” I murmur against her lips.
She frowns as she pulls back from me. “What are you?”
My eyes search hers. Yours.
Her face falls. “You lied to me?”
My stomach twists at her disappointed tone. Don’t fuck this up, you idiot.
We have eight more months together before we have to have this conversation.
If I can just get through this weekend and make Masters keep his big fucking mouth shut. I mean, it’s not like I’m pretending to be rich. I’m pretending to be poor. Surely she can’t hate me for an upgrade?
I stare at her as I tuck a piece of her hair. Damn it. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m not ready for the dynamics to change between us.
I need more time.
“Well?” she asks me. “What do you do if you’re not a teacher?”
“I’m a janitor in a school,” I blurt out. “I was embarrassed to tell you.”
Her mouth falls open. “Sweetheart,” she whispers softly, “that hurts my heart.”
Of all the things to say . . . fuck! Why that? Is there a brain in my head at all?
“You’re a cleaner?” she repeats.
“Yes.” I nod, feeling like a lying piece of shit.
“Baby,” she whispers as she pulls me in for a hug, “I don’t care what you do. What matters to me is if you’re a good person. And you’re better than good; you’re the best.”
I wrap her in my arms and hold her tight. I close my eyes as I nestle into her neck.
This woman . . .
This beautiful woman loves me thinking I clean toilets for a living.
I don’t deserve her.
“This isn’t just fooling around for me, Hayden,” I say. “I want a future with you.”
“I want that too.” She smiles. We lie down on the bed and kiss. There is one more question I need an answer to.
“Where do you see yourself living?” I ask. “When this is all over . . .”
“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.”
There it is.
My heart explodes with an unfamiliar feeling: a sense of belonging. This is happening. She will move for me . . . this is real.
She slides down my body and pulls my hardened dick free and takes it in her mouth. I stare down at her as her dark eyes hold mine. She licks up my length and then sucks me hard, and my toes curl. I lean back onto my elbows to enjoy the view.
She flickers her tongue over the tip of my cock, and I inhale sharply as I push the hair back from her forehead.
“You’re mine,” I whisper.
“All yours.” She smiles around me. She licks her lips. “Now . . . fuck my mouth.”
The sound of Hayden’s gentle breathing lets me know she’s drifted off to sleep.
This matchbox bedroom has the best orgasm voodoo of all time. We just had the best sex of my life.
I quietly throw some clothes on and sneak out of the bedroom. Everything is silent. We went out last night for a supposed quiet drink and ended up getting three hours’ sleep. Everyone is supposed to be unpacking, but my guess is they’re exhausted and catching up on some much-needed sleep before the shitstorm tonight.
And when I say shitstorm, I mean shitstorm.
I sneak up the stairs and out onto the deck. I look around. Where’s Captain Mark?
I walk to the front of the yacht and catch sight of him up in the captain’s chair. I practically run to the back of the yacht, and I scroll through the numbers on my phone.
Masters
I dial his number, and it rings.
“Miles.” He laughs as he answers. “What do you want?” he jokes.
“Listen, I’ve got a situation,” I whisper as my heart beats hard in my chest.
“What? Speak louder. Where are you?” He’s in a bar or something. I can hear people laughing out loud.
“I’m undercover.”
“What?”
“I took a year off, and under an alias I have been backpacking around the world.”
“What?” he explodes before bursting out laughing. “You . . . backpacking?” He laughs out loud again. “That’s fucking hilarious.”
“I’m traveling with a group of people who don’t know who I am, and we got a job on a yacht, and I just found out it’s your fucking yacht,” I blurt out in a rush.
“Bullshit,” he snaps.
“You can’t tell anyone who I am when you get here later.”
He laughs hard. “That is a situation.”
“Stop it,” I whisper angrily.
“Christopher Miles is being an undercover bellboy on my fucking yacht,” he tells someone.
“Get fucked.” I hear someone laugh.
I narrow my eyes. Spencer Jones. I’d know that voice anywhere.
Captain Mark begins to walk down the side of the yacht. He waves happily.
Fuck.
“I’ve got to go,” I stammer. “Not a fucking word. You don’t know me.”
“Wish I didn’t.” He’s laughing, and I hear him telling someone else about me.
I have no choice but to hang up on him.
Fuck.
“Enjoying the view?” Captain Mark smiles.
“Yes.” I fake a smile as I stuff my phone back in my pocket. I’m hot and flustered and damn it . . . stressed the fuck out.
“Did you get unpacked?” he asks.
“Yes, just had to make a quick phone call.”
“We’ll meet on the deck in an hour. I’ll hand out uniforms, and we can start the training.”
“Sounds great.” I fake a smile. Not really . . . sounds like a literal hell.
“See you then.” He walks back up the front of the yacht, and I turn and look out at the marina. I snap a photo and send it to Eddie.
Mykonos.
I wonder how my little buddy from Barcelona is doing. I’ll call him on Wednesday when this shit is all over . . . if I haven’t jumped overboard by then.
I go back down to my room and snuggle up to Hayden’s back as she sleeps.
My mind is in overdrive.
If this doesn’t go to plan . . .
I run through the million scenarios that might happen, how badly this could backfire, and although I know I’m doing the wrong thing, one thing is undeniable.
My life at home is something that only a strong love can withstand.
The people, the places . . . the pressure from the paparazzi.
I need to prepare her better. We need more time.
“These are your uniforms,” Captain Mark says as he hands out zipped-up suit bags. “We ordered the sizes you requested, and if something doesn’t fit, we do have a few extras downstairs in the storeroom.”
Captain Mark begins talking about the yacht and telling us every boring little detail, and I glance over at Basil. He’s unzipped his suit bag and is frowning at something inside. His eyes rise to meet mine.
“What?” I mouth.
He holds up a red glitter bow tie. “What the fuck?” he mouths.
Huh.
As Captain Mark keeps talking, I slowly undo my suit bag. There are three uniforms and then a black pair of suit pants and a red glitter bow tie on a hanger.
“Captain Mark, what is this?” I hold up the bow tie.
He glances over. “That’s your uniform for tonight.”
“My what?”
“Mr. Escott wanted a diverse crew so he could hold themed parties. You each have a party uniform like the one you were wearing in the club he met you at.” He smiles proudly. “He was very impressed with you all.”
I imagine the boys’ faces when they see me in this uniform.
Dear god, no.
This can’t be happening.
Hayden unzips her bag and pulls out a tiny French maid uniform, complete with suspender belts. “I’m not wearing this,” she says adamantly.
“But . . .”
“I wore that outfit when I was in a private club where people had sex on stage. Nobody was even looking at me, and I blended in. Wearing that here in this environment is just damn sleazy. I’m not a stripper for rich men to ogle.”
“I agree,” Kimberly says.
“Same,” Bernadette chimes in.
Captain Mark frowns as he looks between them. “Fine, the girls can wear something else. But the uniform sticks with the men. The theme for tonight is cabaret. You girls will have to come up with something in that theme. I want over-the-top fun. There are costumes and decorations in the storeroom belowdecks.”
He looks at me. “Mr. Escott said you dance, Christo. Do you have your music with you?”
“I don’t fucking dance,” I scoff, horrified.
Hayden gets the giggles.
“This isn’t funny,” I spit.
“He sent me a video of you dancing while you make cocktails.”
“That was goofing off, not professional fucking dance routines.”
“Just do that, then.” He glances at his watch. “We have a DJ boarding in half an hour.”
“A DJ?” Basil frowns. “How many people are coming?”
“Around thirty, but most of them aren’t staying on the yacht. We will drop them back at the mainland once the party has finished.”
“What time will that be?” I ask.
“Whenever they want.”
We all exchange glances. Great. We will be up all night with these fuckers.
“Helga and Agnes will be here soon.”
“Agnes?” Hayden asks. “What does she do?”
“We haven’t had her on board before, but she’s an MC, and with so many on board tonight, we thought we could use a master of ceremonies who will run the timetable for tonight.”
“Timetable?” I frown. That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?
I glance over at the boys, and they shrug.
“Fucking hell,” Basil mouths.
Captain Mark takes off in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s continue the training.”
“You look great.” Hayden smiles up at me as she straightens my bow tie.
I’m wearing black pants and a red glitter bow tie and am shirtless.
This is the bottom of the fucking barrel. I already know that I will never live this down.
“Everybody on deck,” a voice calls over the speaker system. The woman’s voice is husky and deep, with a Nordic accent.
“Who’s that?” I frown.
“Must be Agnes.” Hayden smiles as she kisses me quickly. “Do I look okay?”
I step back. “Twirl.”
She twirls, and I smile at her getup. She and the girls are wearing fruit suits.
She has green stockings on and a big puffy red strawberry dress and a headband that has strawberry leaves coming out of it. Big red love hearts are drawn on her cheeks.
“Cutest strawberry I ever saw.” I bump her with my hips. “May have to eat you later.” I bump her with my hips again. “Make some strawberry jam.”
She giggles and holds up her phone. “Selfie.”
I stand behind her and put my face to hers, and we smile up at the camera. “This is so fun.” She laughs.
“It totally is.”
Is it really, though? Because I’m not feeling it.
She does a little dance on the spot, and I smile. Her excitement is contagious.
“Hurry up,” the voice demands through the speaker.
Hayden widens her eyes with a giggle.
I frown. “Calm down, Agnes.”
We open our bedroom door and hear the others all arguing in their cramped quarters. “I just don’t see why I couldn’t be the orange,” Bernadette whines.
“Because I look better in orange,” Kimberly snaps.
“You look good in everything,” Bernadette fires back. “I don’t want to be the grape. I hate grapes.” She fiddles with her headband. “This thing is fucking itchy.”
“I like grapes,” Basil says as he combs his hair in the mirror. “I like oranges too. Why isn’t it a bachelorette party tonight? I’m horny as…” he fiddles with his hair some more. “Wish we got a job on one of those Studs Afloat boats where the waiters fuck all the girls . . . now that would be a good job.”
“Where is she?” Bodie snaps as he holds his phone to his ear. “She’s not answering my fucking calls. This is the tenth time I’ve called today.”
“She’s met someone else, and you’re being creepy,” Kimberly replies casually as she pushes Basil out of the way of the mirror. Bodie met a girl on shore last night. He’s obsessed.
“Hurry up,” the voice nearly yells through the speaker.
I smile down at my hot little strawberry and take my phone out and snap a photo. She pretends to blow me a kiss, and unable to help it, I take her into my arms and kiss her.
“Ugh, don’t you two ever get sick of each other?” Kimberly rolls her eyes.
“Nope,” I reply. I kiss Hayden again. “How could anybody ever get sick of this strawberry?”
A voice sounds. “What are you doing? We are running late, people.” We turn to see a very angry short woman barreling down the hall. She has two braids in her hair that are pinned across her head. “Upstairs. Right now,” she demands.
“Sorry.” Hayden winces as she scurries up the stairs, and we all rush after her. We get to the main living area and look around at our handiwork. There are balloons and streamers everywhere. Very cabaret, if I do say so myself.
“Line up,” Agnes demands.
We all frown at each other. What?
“Line up,” she repeats. “Tell me who you are.”
We all introduce ourselves as we stand in a line, and she walks along. She looks us up and down. “Now . . . I run a tight ship,” she says, serious. “You will be professional at all times and”—she holds her fingers up to air quote—“on tonight.”
“On?” I frown.
“Performing.” She smiles calmly. “I want cabaret. I want over the top. This has to be the most fun time that these guests have ever had in their life.”
I stare at her as she walks up and down the line. Calm the fuck down.
“I am on trial here tonight, and I want this job . . . so please don’t mess it up for me.”
“Yes, Agnes,” we all reply.
She goes behind us and rifles through a box. “Come here, Christo,” she tells me.
Huh?
I step forward, and she sprays a can of something all over my bare torso. “What is this?”
“Body glitter.”
What?
I look down at myself. She’s sprayed me with oil and gold glitter.
No . . .
Hayden sees my face and gets the giggles. She drops her head as she tries to hide from Agnes.
“Step forward,” Agnes tells Bodie and Basil. They do as they’re told and are covered in gold glitter oil as well.
Basil’s eyes meet mine, and I wince. What the ever-loving fuck is going on here?
“Now, I’m going downstairs to check on the menu. The guests will be here in ten minutes. Remember, their wish is your command.”
She disappears downstairs, and we all stare at each other. “Are you all feeling on?” Kimberly asks.
“Just get through tonight. She’s gone tomorrow,” Hayden whispers.
Ugh, not in the mood for this shit.
The DJ starts the music on the balcony above us. It’s loud dance music, and disco lights begin to flash. I walk to the bar and duck down behind it. I take a swig of tequila out of the bottle.
I text Masters, just to be sure.
Don’t fuck this up.
YOU DON’T KNOW ME.
Ten minutes later
We all line up at the entry onto the yacht to greet our guests. I see the large group walking down the boardwalk. I glance down at myself: black pants, red bow tie, and gold glitter oil over my body.
Kill me now.
I can hear Masters’s deep voice as he gets closer, and I clench my jaw. This is humiliating. There are about twenty men and a few women . . .
Women? I thought this was a bachelor party. They must be strippers.
They walk across the bridge, and Masters, Jones, and Garcia all stop on the spot as they see me. Wide eyed, they burst out laughing.
Fuck my life.
They begin to circle me as Garcia lets out a low whistle. “We have a situation.” Masters smiles darkly. He reaches up and tweaks my nipple. “I like these.”
I clench my jaw as Hayden’s eyes widen.
Garcia walks behind me and slaps my ass. “Aren’t you just a fucking delight?” They keep walking around me like I’m a hunted animal.
“My very own play toy.” Spencer smiles darkly.
My friends’ horrified eyes are wide as they watch.
“Welcome aboard, sir.” I nod.
They throw their heads back and laugh out loud.
This is un-fucking-believable.
“Welcome aboard, gentlemen. May I introduce your crew for the night?” Agnes smiles. “We’re here to give you the best night of your life.”
“Mission accomplished.” Masters’s mischievous eyes hold mine. “It already is.”
The other men all come on board and begin to dance through the yacht. They are already well and truly intoxicated. Loud and laughing.
Everyone takes off to their working positions for the night.
I go behind the bar; the three boys come and sit in front of me. “What will it be?” I ask dryly as I wipe the bar.
“Mimosas.”
I pour a shot of tequila.
I look left, and I look right. I drink it down and lean in real close. “Listen here . . . if you fuck this up for me, I’m going to kill you with a smile on my face,” I whisper.
They laugh like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever seen . . . it probably is.
“You’d do all this for a girl?” Masters smirks.
“She’s not a girl,” I spit. “She’s the girl.”
