I pick up a tray of appetizers in the kitchen, fancy-looking sushi. “Take those around and then come back,” Helga, the cook, says.
“Okay.” I walk up the stairs, and Kimberly is coming down. “Bloody hell, they’re already tipsy,” she says.
“It’s going to be a long night.” I get to the lower level and decide to go up to the dance floor first.
Men are standing around and chatting. A few are dancing with the four girls.
Basil’s working behind the bar. His eyes are planted firmly on the scantily dressed women as he watches them dance. I hold my tray out to a guest. “Can I tempt you to eat something, sir?”
“Thank you.” They all begin to take the sushi, and the tray empties in no time at all. I go back down to the lower deck and make my way to the kitchen.
“They loved it,” I tell Helga. “It was a hit.”
“Good news.” She smiles as she pushes another tray over. I go back upstairs and head out onto the deck. There are three men sitting at the bar talking to Christopher and Kimberly.
Gorgeous men.
A little older, maybe mid- to late thirties . . . next-level hot.
My eyes linger on them as I do the rounds. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but whatever it is must be hilarious. They haven’t stopped laughing.
Kimberly leaves them and weaves through the crowd over to me. “Who are those men at the bar?” I ask.
She looks over. “I just met them. The one in the middle is Mr. Masters. He owns this yacht. He must be fucking loaded,” she whispers.
“And the other two?”
“The blond one is Spencer Jones.” Her eyes linger on him. “Fucking gorgeous. Have you seen his smile?”
“I have.”
“The other one is a politician, apparently.”
“Oh.” I widen my eyes. “Jeez.”
They laugh out loud again.
“Christo must have told them he’s dating one of us.”
“Why do you say that?”
“They just asked me which one of us is his girlfriend because they want to meet her.”
“Oh.” I screw up my face. “Great.” I plaster on my fake smile and head on out to the deck.
“Come over here.” Masters holds his arm out for me as he waves me over.
I walk over and awkwardly hold my tray out with a smile. “Sushi, gentlemen?”
“Put that down and talk to us,” the man with the black hair says as he pulls up a stool beside him.
“Hayden is very busy,” Christopher replies. “Get back to work, Hayden.”
What?
“No, no, no. Never too busy for us,” Spencer replies as he taps the chair. “Sit down.”
“Hello.” I smile.
“Julian Masters.” He holds his hand out to shake mine. “How do you do?”
“Hello. I’m Hayden.”
“Hayden who?” He raises an eyebrow in question.
“Funeral Home,” Christopher cuts in before I can answer.
Huh? My eyes flick to Christopher in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“That’s the cocktail I’m making.” He fakes a smile. “To the funeral home we go.”
They roar with laughter.
“I’m Spencer.” The blond man smiles as he holds out his hand. “You can call me Spence.”
Christopher shakes his cocktail shaker hard and at lightning speed above his shoulder as he glares at Spencer.
I frown over at him. He’s acting very weird tonight.
“I’m Sebastian Garcia,” the dark-haired man purrs in a deep, sexy voice. He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it.
A tea towel flicks at high speed past my face and whips Mr. Garcia in the face. “Damn flies,” Christopher snaps.
Huh?
“There are no flies at night,” I say.
“Sand flies.”
The men laugh out loud again, so hard that they can hardly stay seated on their stools.
What the hell is so funny?
Christopher fills the three cocktail glasses in front of him. “Here you go. Three trips to the funeral home.”
Masters picks his up and takes a sip. “That’ll do it.” He winces.
Spencer takes a sip and scrunches his face up. “Fuck, that’s bad.”
“Are you having fun?” I ask them.
“Sure am,” Sebastian replies. “There’s only one thing that will make this night better.”
“What’s that?” I smile.
“A foot massage from Mr. Christo here.”
What?
Christopher glares at him.
Mr. Masters tips his head back and laughs hard. Spencer nearly slides off the chair in hysterics.
Okay, I’m lost . . . they must be on something.
High as a kite.
Nothing being said here is even remotely funny. I raise my eyebrows in disgust. “I’ll leave you to it.” I walk off and begin to offer the tray of sushi around again.
“Can I offer you some sushi, sir?” I ask.
“Sure.” The man smiles. I glance over to see Sebastian sitting down on a deck chair. He’s kicking his shoes off.
What the hell?
Christopher isn’t really going to massage his feet, is he?
My god, rich people are the worst.
Christopher kneels in front of him and picks up one of his feet.
“This is the best night of my fucking life.” Mr. Masters smiles. He holds the phone up as if filming it.
I keep offering the platter, and I glance over to see Christopher twisting Sebastian’s big toe so hard that he nearly breaks it off.
“Ahh,” he cries.
What the hell is he doing?
Christopher twists it again, the whole foot this time, as if he is trying to dislocate it or something.
“Ahh,” Sebastian screams.
The two other men are hysterical. Tears are running down their faces.
I march over. “Christopher. Can I speak to you for a moment, please?”
“Sure.” He stands. “I’ll just make you more comfortable, sir,” he tells him. He pulls the lever on the chair and tips it backward with force. Sebastian goes flying onto the floor.
I grab Christopher’s arm and drag him around the corner. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper angrily. “You’re going to get us all fired.”
“I don’t care.”
“There are five others who do.”
“Man overboard,” we hear Captain Mark call over the speaker. “All hands on deck.”
Bodie comes running up the side of the yacht with a ring and throws it into the sea.
A naked man jumps into the water to the cheers of his friends.
Why the hell would anyone have a bachelor party on a yacht? This is just ridiculous and completely out of control.
“We’ve got a problem,” Kimberly snaps from behind us.
“What now?” I whisper.
“Basil has gone missing.”
“What?” I frown.
“I can’t find Basil. He’s supposed to be on the bar upstairs, and he’s not there.”
“Well, where is he?” Christopher asks.
“I don’t know,” she stammers. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Did he fall overboard?” I gasp in horror.
“Who fucking knows. This is a disaster.” She storms off through the people.
Christopher and I walk out onto the deck to watch the dramatics as the two men are pulled from the sea. Their friends are all hanging over the rail and calling out and heckling them.
“Umm . . . I found Basil,” Christopher says.
“Where?”
He points up. I look up the three levels to the master suite to see a woman with two hands on the glass being fucked from behind . . . by Basil.
“What the hell?”
“Attaboy.” Christopher laughs. “Go guard the stairs.”
“I am not guarding the fucking stairs while Basil fucks a stripper.”
“Do you want me to?” He raises his eyebrow playfully.
“No,” I snap. “I’ll go. Stop breaking people’s toes.”
1:00 a.m.
We wave as the men amble up the boardwalk back at the dock. They ended up all leaving in search of a club. They’re singing arm in arm and making a hell of a racket as they disappear into the darkness.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Hayden,” Mr. Masters says.
“Likewise.” I smile.
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe we’ll meet again one day.”
“You never know.” I smile.
I will never see this man again in my life.
Christopher shakes his hand and says something under his breath, and they chuckle.
I don’t know what it is with these two. They seem to have a lot of private jokes for having just met.
He steps onto the dock and follows the others up the boardwalk.
Thank god. I don’t know how much more I could take.
We all fall to sit down, utterly exhausted. “Fucking hell, that was hectic,” Bodie sighs.
“Best night of my life,” Basil says.
“She loved it, Baz.” Christopher slaps him on the back.
Basil smiles proudly, clearly feeling ten feet tall.
We sit in silence for a while, too tired to even speak. “Will you look at this place?”
We look around at the trashed luxury yacht.
“That was a raging success.” Captain Mark smiles as he comes down the stairs. “Well done, guys.” He claps his hands as if he has all the energy in the world. “A quick cleanup, and we can all retire to bed.” He disappears up the stairs in the best mood ever.
Christopher’s shoulders slump. He looks like he just ran a marathon or something. “Thank fucking god that’s over,” he mutters under his breath.
There will be nothing quick about this cleanup. It’s a disaster.
June
Croatia
The sound of the ocean gently laps on the sand as Christopher and I walk hand in hand through the edge of the water. It’s midnight, and while the others are all still at the club partying, we’ve come for a walk to be alone.
It’s happening a lot lately: preferring to stay in or go out to dinner than to party with everyone else.
We’ve been in Croatia for a week now, and I cannot believe just how beautiful this big wide world of ours is.
“Do you know what tomorrow is?” Christopher asks me.
“Wednesday?”
He takes me into his arms. “Tomorrow we’ve been together for three months.”
My eyes widen. “It’s our anniversary?”
“Monthaversary . . .” He shrugs. “Is that a thing?”
I smile up at my beautiful man. “It is now.”
“The happiest three months of my life, Grumps.” His lips take mine, and as the moonlight bounces off the water, I know I’m in heaven.
“Mine too.”
His eyes search mine. “I love you.”
My heart stops.
“I’ve wanted so badly to hear those three words from you,” I whisper.
He smiles softly as he takes my face in his hands. It means so much more to me that he’s waited to say those words, because I know he truly means them.
“I love you too.” We kiss, and it’s soft and tender, filled with so much love.
My crazy party boy has manned up and tamed down. Faced his demons and won.
For me.
“I can’t imagine a life without you in it,” he murmurs against my lips.
“You’ll never have to.”
We kiss in the moonlight . . . and on the perfect night, two become one.
He loves me.
September
Copenhagen, Denmark
Who knew that this place existed?
The scenery, the nightlife, the sexy man in front of me.
The dance floor is crowded with bodies writhing to the techno beat. It’s 4:00 a.m., and with Christopher’s large hands on my hip bones, he grinds up behind me as he dances. His erection is hot and hard against my back, and his lips drop to my ear.
“I need you,” he whispers darkly as he bites my ear.
We keep dirty dancing, oblivious to the people around us. Our friends are in the club, but as usual, we’re in our own little world.
Where the rules are, there are no rules. We love sweet, and we fuck hard.
He slides his hand up my leg and between my legs on the crowded dance floor and slips his fingers in, and I smile against his neck.
He’s so naughty.
He feels how wet I am and inhales sharply and grabs my hand and drags me through the club.
Next thing I know I’m up against a wall in a service hallway with my legs around his waist, and he’s pulling my panties to the side as he slides in deep.
We stare at each other. The feeling of his thick cock deep inside me makes me moan, and he bites my bottom lip and fucks deep, hard, and fast.
Right here in the club without a care in the world.
He owns me.
November
Historic town of Gamla Stan, Sweden
Snowflakes fall on the cobblestone streets, and the colorful buildings blend into the night. This place is straight out of a fairy tale.
The room is cozy and warm, and I lie in bed and doze. I’m under the weather and not feeling the best.
I hear the key in the door, and Christopher appears with a shopping bag. “Hi, babe.”
“Hi.” I smile up at him.
“Got the supplies. Paracetamol.” He unpacks the grocery bag. “Strawberries.” He holds them up. “Tampax.” He holds up the box. “And chocolate?” He holds up a huge block of my favorite chocolate. He digs through the shopping bag and pulls out a small bar of chocolate. “This one’s for me . . . because we both know you’re not sharing yours.”
“You know it.” I smile.
He fusses about and showers and then comes and climbs into bed behind me. He puts his big warm hand tenderly over my sore stomach and kisses my temple. “You okay, baby?” he whispers.
“I am now that you’re home.”
He looks after me so well. Treats my body as if it’s his body too.
In a way, it is. It’s something we share.
My protector, my lover, and my very best friend.
“Sleep now, angel. I’m here.”
December
Thailand
We sit around the outdoor table under the trees on the water’s edge.
The view over the beach is picture perfect.
It’s Christmas Day, and to splurge we rented a house in Ko Samui for two weeks.
The boys are cooking on the outdoor grill, and we’re all wearing our colorful hats from our Christmas cracker bonbons.
These are the best five people I could ever have hoped to have met.
The best of friends, we’ve been through so much together as we’ve traveled the world.
Christopher pops a cork on a bottle of champagne and fills all our glasses and then holds his glass in the air. “A toast.”
We all smile and hold our glasses up as we wait for his wise words.
“May all our Christmases be as happy as this one.” He lifts his glass up higher. “To happiness.”
His eyes find mine across the table, and they twinkle with a certain something. I feel it to my toes.
“To happiness.”
We all sip our champagne, and our faces screw up as we wince in silence.
“What is this? Tastes like fucking shit,” Christopher cries in disgust. “I paid twenty-two dollars for this fucking horse piss.”
Everyone bursts out laughing as they choke on what is possibly the worst champagne in the world.
“To dying in Thailand from poison,” Basil says as he holds his glass up for another toast.
We all laugh hysterically as we toast again. “To poison.”
March
Germany
We stand on the curb outside the hostel. The bus is coming to collect the others for the airport.
Our trip of a lifetime is over.
It’s time to go home.
Christopher and I are flying out of a different airport. Our cab is coming in half an hour to collect us.
We are going to see his parents, then mine, and then we are going to visit Elliot in London . . . and then I guess we will see where we end up.
Christopher’s been quiet all week, and I know it’s because our trip is over.
He’s dreading going back to cleaning.
But I know it will be okay. Maybe he can do a course or go back to school or something. I don’t want him to do a job that he’s ashamed of. It hurts my heart.
I stand back and watch Christopher hug everyone goodbye. We’re all in tears.
Because no matter how much we say we’re going to keep in touch, we won’t.
We live in completely different parts of the world, and soon these people will be nothing more than memories. They’ll be nothing more than people in photos, ones I went on a trip with once.
Their car is waiting.
It’s my turn to hug everyone, and with tears running down my face, I say my goodbyes.
Christopher helps load their bags into the bus, and they sadly climb on.
I can hardly see the bus as it drives away.
The end of an era.
Christopher puts his arm around me as we watch it disappear into the distance.
“That’s it,” he says softly.
I nod.
“The trip’s over.”
“Yep.” I nod as I wipe my eyes. “Time to go back to reality.”
He rolls his lips. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“You want to stay longer?” I smile hopefully.
“I wish we could.”
I smile sadly. If only.
His eyes search mine. “Hayden . . . I’m not who you think I am.”
I frown.
“I’m not a cleaner.”
“What do you mean?”
He grabs my two hands and leads me over to a bench seat and sits me down. “Sweetheart.” His voice is soft, cajoling, as if delivering a fatal blow. “Have you ever heard of Miles Media?”
“No.”
“It’s a media company in New York.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I’m Christopher Miles.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Babe.” He widens his eyes, hoping I will get a clue. “As in Miles Media Miles.”
“I don’t understand.” I frown.
A black limousine pulls up, and the driver in full uniform gets out and pops the trunk.
“Our car is here.”
I look to the fancy car, horrified . . . that’s our car?
What the fuck?
