AT TEN O’CLOCK, the waitstaff clears the table while Amara takes five minutes to thank everyone for coming before getting to the point. With a stack of black envelopes in hand, she tells everyone to divide themselves into pairs.
“Each pair will receive an envelope with the first riddle. I’ve designed the treasure hunt differently for each pair to avoid everyone chasing the same clues. There are four riddles with two tasks along the way. The last riddle leads to the prize.”
There are eight pairs in total. Ben and Amara aren’t participating, neither are the single father and his three kids. Benjamin grabs the envelopes, offering his parents first choice.
By the time it’s Addie’s turn, there are only two envelopes left. She grabs one, ready to tear it open when Amara gives everyone the go-ahead.
“Relax,” I whisper in her ear. “You know this boat inside out; that gives us an edge.”
She nods, dropping down on her ass to quickly lose her cute platform sandals.
“Okay, let the fun begin!” Amara yells into the microphone.
Addie, quick as the lightning that must have struck her hair during the night, tears the envelope open, presenting me a card with the first riddle:
At first, I’m a treat in the sun.
Then, I bring joy and fun.
As the years pass, my worth ascends,
More precious than ever, as time extends.
What am I?
“Vacation?” Addie turns to me, a crease between her dark brows. “No, that doesn’t make sense. It fits, but there’s no vacation room—” She halts, eyes growing wide. “It’s a book!” she whisper-shouts. “To the library!”
“No, it’s—”
“A book!” she mouths, a don’t start with me look crossing her features. “It fits, Colt! At first, it’s a treat in the sun for the kids, then it’s for adults—”
“No, it doesn’t fit. Come on.” I take her hand, but she yanks it away, arms akimbo, cheeks flushed.
“It fits! The older, the wiser!”
Seeing as I’m not winning this argument with words, I hoist her over my shoulder. It’s starting to become a habit, and something I enjoy way too much when her hip juts against my head. She’s light but furious.
“Wait!” She pummels my back with her small fists. “You’re not listening, you daft twit! Where are we going?”
“You’re just making words up as you go, aren’t you? And it’s you who doesn’t listen. It’s not a book.”
“Yes, it is!” she wails. “You’ll make us lose!”
She has more spirit in her little finger than Conor has in his entire fucking body. Ignoring her thrashing, I don’t slow down until we’re in the elevator, riding to the lowest level.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, she charges at me, all beautiful wrath. If only she knew how much I get off on this… my brain short-circuits, showing me enticing images of Addie on her knees, making up for acting out—
“We’ll lose!” she yells, pounding my chest. “You’ll end up paired with my mother, you pig-headed nutter!”
“I love it when you talk dirty, baby, but zip it for one damn second. It’s wine, Addie. At first, when it’s a treat in the sun—”
“It’s a grape!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “Yes! Once it’s turned into wine it’s fun, and more expensive the older it gets. God, you’re brilliant!” She jumps, wrapping her arms around my neck, and kisses my cheeks before quickly hopping off. “To the cellar!”
“What the fuck is a pig-headed nutter anyway?”
“A stubborn, bat-shit crazy jerk.”
“How about twit?”
“An idiot. A fool.”
“You’re so classy,” I say, chuckling quietly.
She’ll be the death of me, I swear. How fucking bizarre is it that I find her extremely hot when she yells at me?
Entering the cellar, we find a table in the middle. No note, just puzzle pieces scattered all over. I get to work, separating the border from everything else.
“This will take a while.”
“What are you doing?” Addie asks, barreling her way to the table. “It’s a wine bottle, can’t you see? We just need to figure out which one.”
I scan the puzzle pieces, a riot of colors all blending together, assaulting my eyes. “How can you tell what it is?”
She points to disjointed writing on the scattered pieces. Partial words—Lefla on one, Cru on another, then ive and ard-Mo. She takes a few moments to locate all the relevant pieces, then proudly claps her hands, aligning them in order.
“Leflaive Bâtard-Montrachet Grand Cru. That was easy!”
She dashes to the white wines on the left, concentrating on the bottles as she scans the shelves. I’m a beat slower to follow, captivated by the way she rises on her toes with a look of genuine joy on her face, and how fucking gorgeous she is when she smiles.
“Aha!” She plucks a bottle from the rack, turning it every which way, looking for something.
“At the bottom,” I point out, snatching the small envelope glued there. Inside, there’s a piece of paper folded three times.
I spin above, yet I’m not the breeze,
I move around or in the air I freeze,
Not a bird, yet I fly,
What am I, up in the sky?
“To the helipad,” I say, pulling Addie back into the elevator.
“Right! A helicopter. You’re quick with those.”
“They’re not that hard. Besides, we know it can only refer to places on the yacht. Makes it easier.”
“Tell that to them,” she whispers as we emerge on the main deck, where there are three pairs stuck deciphering their first riddles. “We only started fifteen minutes ago.”
“You sound like you want to give them a fighting chance.”
“I would if the stakes weren’t so high.”
There’s another table in the middle of the helipad. A wooden box with a number lock sits in the center, a black envelope taped to the lid, and inside, another riddle.
While I tackle that, Addie brushes her fingers over the island engraved on the box.
“I think it’s Cococay,” she says, her eyebrows bunching as she examines the lock.
I hold no weight, yet I can tell,
Where in the world you dwell.
I’m just two lines crossing paths,
I’m not math, but I’m all about maths.
What am I, that can’t be seen,
But tells you where you’ve been?
“How many digits?” I ask, whipping my phone out. “Ten?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
I hand her the riddle, opening Maps on my phone, and search for Cococay.
“Is it…” Addie pauses, her usual confidence replaced by a flicker of doubt as she adorably worries her bottom lip. “Is the answer coordinates?”
“It is. Now we need to find the specific location on the box.”
Addie studies the lines, finding a small X on the coastline. “X marks the spot. I think that’s where the marina is.”
Going off that, I locate the spot, dictating the numbers.
“…nine three seven,” I finish.
With the last digit dialed in, the lock clicks and the lid springs open. Another black envelope hides inside, but Addie stops me before I take it.
“I think this is it,” she says, slightly disappointed. “Amara said four riddles and two tasks, didn’t she?”
“Really? Half an hour?”
“Looks like we make a great team.” She hands the envelope over. “You’re better at riddles than I am.”
I’m filled with stories, but I don’t speak,
A place for the curious and those who seek.
Not a treasure chest, but in me, you’ll find,
Countless gems for your mind.
What am I?
“You’ll know this one,” I say, handing her the card.
Addie smiles, and this time, she’s the one leading. We go down two flights of stairs and open the tall, wooden library door to reveal the grand prize. A huge bouquet of pink flowers sits in a large vase, a glass trophy glimmering beside it.
“Looks like you’re mine for the next task.” Addie beams, hugging the flowers to her chest.
And fuck… not dipping my head to taste that smile is almost physically painful.
It takes two hours before all the pairs come back from the treasure hunt. Henry and Victoria came in third, and if that wasn’t enough to fuck up her mood, learning we won did the trick.
Save for her occasional glaring and snarky tone, the rest of the day passes without drama. We spend most of our time roaming the yacht, indulging in gourmet food, and lounging by the pool once the sun’s not so scorching.
My brothers check in on me in the late afternoon, their bets firmly in place, same stakes as usual: a hundred bucks.
Theo’s the most optimistic, wagering that Addie and I will turn the fake into real by the end of the trip. The rest play the game more conservatively. Shawn, basing his decision on Addie’s background check and her family’s fortune, has decided we won’t even make it to the end and I’ll fly home early.
That got me curious.
In a solitary moment, while Addie’s getting ready for the romantic date we’ve won, I google her father and almost fall off the damn chair when his net worth pops up on the screen.
Thirty-five billion dollars.
Flicking through a few articles about Henry Weston, I find a mention of Grant Whitaker. His net worth? Three billion.
No wonder Addie’s mother hates me… compared to the son-in-law she wants, I’m a tiny fish among whales.
