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“Wow,” is all I can say. Words fail me.
“Is that everything?” He asks, gesturing toward my suitcases.
“Yes,” I say simply.
“Shall we?” Atticus asks after grabbing the two suitcases from me. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns and begin to lead the way.
My thoughts oscillate between the fear of the unknown and the thrill of a new beginning. I take a deep breath, summoning the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead. The Bronx may be a fading memory, but its lessons remain etched in my determination. As I step onto the gangplank, the future awaits—a blank canvas where I can paint a new version of myself, leaving behind the struggles of my past, and sailing toward the promise of a different life.
The salty breeze kisses my face as I step onto the gleaming deck of the yacht, a floating palace that promises a life of luxury and opulence. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden hue across the azure waters that surround the vessel. My heart races with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I take in the sheer grandeur of the yacht that will be my workplace.
The deck is pristine, and I can’t help but marvel at the polished surfaces and gleaming chrome accents. A crew member in a crisp uniform greets us with a warm smile, extending a hand to help me on board. I feel a surge of gratitude for this gesture, a small reassurance amid my swirling emotions. As I step onto the yacht, I am enveloped in an air of sophistication that permeates every inch of the vessel. The interior reminds me of a world I was once very acquainted with, a realm of lavish furnishings and impeccable design. Rich mahogany, soft leather, and shimmering marble blend seamlessly, creating an atmosphere of elegance. My eyes wander over the plush seating, ornate fixtures, and tasteful artwork that adorn the walls.
A senior stewardess approaches me with a welcoming smile, introducing herself as Eleonor. Atticus informs her of who I am and request that she gets me started with some paperwork and shows me where I will be rooming. Her confidence is infectious, and she exudes a seasoned grace that immediately puts me at ease. After the handoff from Atticus, she guides me through the labyrinth of corridors, each turn revealing a new facet of the yacht’s grandeur. She places a black key card in a slot near the illuminated numbers before pressing the number three to head up to the third floor. It’s the last floor before the one marked TPL. I’m guessing that’s the captain’s quarters or something. Once we reach the third floor, she turns to me to share information about the different floors.
“You’ll be staying on the first floor. Staff stay on either the first or second floor of the forward of the boat. This floor has the meeting room, a lounge, an indoor pool, and the dining area. A few suites are located on this floor, but they are for the senior leadership staff. You’re the only new hire among us, so I’ll go over the layout of the floors, your assignment, area restrictions, and, most importantly—the nondisclosure agreement.”
“Nondisclosure agreement?”
“Yeah. We work with some very wealthy clients and their privacy is of the utmost importance.”
That makes sense. I guess it doesn’t bother me to sign one. I don’t care about any of their personal affairs. I just want to keep my head down and make my money. We continue the tour back down to the main floor and toward the aft of the yacht. As we reach the main salon, my breath catches at the sight of the expansive living area. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the sea, and plush furnishings beckon guests to unwind in unparalleled comfort. Eleonor explains that attention to detail is paramount in the world of yachting, and my role as a stewardess will involve ensuring that every guest experience is flawless.
The galley, a hive of activity, bustles with chefs preparing gourmet meals. The aroma of freshly baked bread and exotic spices fills the air. I watch in awe as the culinary team works with precision, turning out dishes that are works of art in themselves. She assures me that I’ll become familiar with the galley’s operations.
Next, we tour some of the guest suites, each one, no expense spared. Eleonor instructs me on the meticulous cleaning routines and impeccable presentation required to meet the established standards. The bedrooms are resplendent with luxurious linens, and I can’t help but imagine the privileged guests who will revel in the comfort of these wonderful thread counts.
Once we’re back at the forward of the yacht, she introduces me to some of my fellow stewardesses. A couple of them share stories of their experiences, providing invaluable insights into the challenges and joys of working on this yacht. I’m struck by the camaraderie that seems to exist among the crew. I’m told that in the coming days, I will embark on an intensive training program to hone my skills in table setting, wine service, and etiquette. The importance of discretion and professionalism is emphasized, as I’ll be privy to the intimate details of the guests’ lives. The pressure to seamlessly execute tasks becomes apparent, but the thrill of mastering these skills and the anticipation of the adventures that lie ahead outweighs the fear.
“I hope this all hasn’t been too overwhelming,” Eleonor says, stopping in front of a stateroom. She passes me a purple key card. “This is your stateroom. Your luggage should already be inside. I know you’ve had a long day of flying and would probably like to freshen up. Get settled and I’ll be back in an hour to take you to sign all the NDA.”
“I’m not overwhelmed … much,” I laugh. “Thank you for the tour and the warm welcome. I’ll see you again in an hour.”
She smiles and turns on a heel to leave. I enter my stateroom and I must admit, I’m impressed. It’s not the “over-the-top” luxury I saw in the guest suites, but its leaps and bounds above what I’ve grown acquainted to as of late. I eye the huge flat panel TV against the wall and think of all the shows I hope it has. Eleonor will be back in an hour, though, so I need to fresh up before she returns. Life has dealt me a new deck of cards—a better hand than before. I’m ready to take full advantage of this rare opportunity.
CHAPTER THREE
KASSIUS
I swirl my whiskey around in my tumbler as I lean back further in my chair at the head of the table. I struggle to suppress the smirk that forms around the glass. I’ve broken a many of men, but I vow that this shattering will be some of my best work. I can’t wait to revel in the predicament I created for her, knowing full well she has no recourse.
I will humble her.
I will break her.
And lastly, I will destroy her.
I’m a connoisseur of games—the more treacherous the better. My soul is dark, but my games are darker. And tonight … it all begins.
I take a swig of my Macallan No 6 as she enters my boardroom. Color drains from her face as realization dawns upon her and it’s like getting presents on Christmas morning.
“Youuuuuu,” she stutters. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“Is that the best you can come up with?” I ask, incredulously. I take another swig. “That I followed you from New York?”
“What then? Because this sure as fuck is not a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences, broke beauty queen. So why don’t you try again.”
