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“I’m glad you agree it’s time to eat,” Alexei told her as he held her chair. “It’s important for you to keep your strength up.”
The look in his eyes was wicked, and she had to rejig her thoughts quickly when the waiter asked if she would like a glass of water as well as champagne.
“Are you comfortable on board?” Alexei asked, confining his questions to the mundane while there was crew about, she thought.
“My cabin’s got everything I need,” she confirmed. “It’s very comfortable, thank you.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, but you won’t be needing it for the rest of the trip.”
A sliver of ice coursed through her. It was time to forget romance and remember she was seated at a table with a ruthless man.
Seeing the alarm in her eyes, Alexei laughed and settled back in his chair. “You mustn’t believe everything you read about me.”
“I’ve seen you in action, remember?”
“You won’t be needing your cabin,” Alexei explained, “because this is now your suite. I hope you like it. This entire deck is your private preserve.”
“My…? That’s quite an upgrade from stewardess and occasional chef,” Amber observed, frowning.
Alexei shrugged. “Just accept that you passed the audition.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Ignoring her outrage, he continued smoothly, “The swimming pool over there is yours, and all the staterooms on this part of the deck are yours too. You might want to go and rifle through your dressing room to find something suitable to wear to eat for lunch with a billionaire.”
“A chastity belt?” Amber suggested acidly.
“I’d only have to waste time unlocking it. And whatever you choose to wear, put on a bikini underneath. I’ve ordered the captain to heave to after lunch so we can go swimming offshore.”
“In the sea?”
“Unless you’ve perfected a way of swimming on land I don’t know about.”
She glanced at the crystal pool.
“So boring, don’t you think?” Alexei murmured.
~o0o~
Lunch was delicious, and later in her dressing room Amber found a few choice items of clothing, which she rifled through like a fashionista at a sample sale. Then it occurred to her that some previous girlfriend might have left them behind, and she drew her hands back quickly. A note she’d missed explained everything. Alexei had bought them for her.
Dressed in a daring bikini, she plunged into the sea with delight. The swim was so refreshing and so much fun, and Alexei was the best companion ever—
And she had to stop right there, Amber told herself firmly. This was not the start of a romance with a man who made her heart sing. This was a steamy affair with no rules, unless she made them. However she felt about Alexei, as far as Alexei was concerned, she was just another notch on his exquisitely fashioned headboard.
She was glad she’d thought like that when they got back to the boat and they parted to go to their own quarters, because half an hour later she heard Alexei’s helicopter take off, and he hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye. He hadn’t said anything at all.
And why would he?
~o0o~
Russian Thunder was due to dock in the Canary Islands, where it was summer all year round. Amber enjoyed what was loosely called “access all areas” on the vessel, but in actual terms, this referred to the public areas of the ship and her own quarters. A detailed map had been provided to her, along with a provisioning budget equal to the annual GDP of a small country. She would be responsible for ensuring that Alexei’s superyacht was always billionaire-ready, even in his absence, and who knew how long that would be? She had kept herself busy while he’d been away, checking inventory in each of the twelve lavish staterooms, making sure they were superyacht clean and fully stocked with every possible amenity for any guests Alexei might choose to invite on board…
Female guests?
And if he did invite a woman on board, what business was it of hers? Realistically, she was a stewardess, stand-in chef, and lay-down, as and when required, fuck buddy. There was no point in pretending that he had any serious intentions toward her, and no guarantees when it came to making her part of his team.
They moored offshore when they reached the largest of the Canary Islands, and the crew was taken off the ship in rubber ribs with high-powered engines. The head chef was one of the last to leave. “You should take a swim,” he advised as he prepared to disembark. “It’s quite safe here—in every respect,” he added significantly, reminding her of the dangers she’d faced in Monte Carlo. “The waters are safe and clean and quite warm. Make the most of the time to yourself while you can,” he suggested.
