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Gemma danced in a frilly floral summer dress with skimpy straps and hennastained feet in her sandals, which clicked on the floor as she moved about in time to the music blaring from the sound system. One of her hands held Gaspar’s. Her dance partner. The smile on her face told Jason she was happy in her world of spinning, hip-jiggling salsa.
Jason’s right fist closed tight while his other hand held his laptop case. The relief at being back on the yacht along with the excitement at seeing his wife was overshadowed by the sight, not only of her dancing with another man, but the presence of an audience watching the gyrating wriggle of her bottom and shoulders. His plan to sweep her into his arms was crushed, and he started to back away from the salon’s vista. As he moved, Maria caught his eyes. She stared at him for a few seconds before tugging on Enrique’s arm.
Arriving in his office, he unzipped his laptop case and began the process of reconnecting his computer to the yacht’s communication system. By now, he knew Gemma would have been told of his return, and he expected the crew would rapidly disperse to their tasks. What had he anticipated upon his return? A dutiful wife sitting alone reading in an armchair or relaxing on a sun bed enjoying the evening’s lingering warmth, taking in the ambience of Malta’s air. Possibly, she might have sought out the company of McKenzie or Lubinsky, dined with them in the appropriate setting, not nibble her way through platters of food. His disappointment at her behaviour was extreme, feeding his disciplinarian personality and all of his controlling traits.
***
Enrique switched off the music in the salon. Gemma froze, mid-twirl, feet poised. She and everyone else looked towards him, his finger still touching the power switch. Maria gave Gemma a nod and pointed to the upper deck. In an instant, she forgot the crew and ran up the stairs to the owner’s deck. She found Jason upright behind his desk, looking at his monitor screen, tapping at the odd key with a stabbing finger.
“You’re back!” She couldn’t contain her sheer joy. She practically collided with his desk and held her arms out wide in anticipation of an embrace.
“So it would seem,” he said coolly.
“You’re not pleased to see me?” Gemma lowered her arms to her sides and took a step away from his desk.
“I thought I would be, until I saw you in the salon.” He sneered. “Dancing.”
“I can explain—”
“I’m sure you can,” he interrupted, pushing his chair back and reaching for the pen. “But not in here. In the stateroom, and in a suitable pose.”
She couldn’t believe he wasn’t delighted to be in her company. Her passions had reignited the moment she had received the message about his return. He should be touching her. She backed out of the door, aghast. He hadn’t even looked up at her. Made eye contact.
Sitting on the bed, she fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress. Of all the activities he had to see upon his return, it was her dancing—his adversary and the one pastime of hers he suffered her to do. To add to his ire, she had been in the company of several men and, though Maria had been present, it would be of no consequence to Jason.
Now, she had to face one of his tormenting inquisitions where he would dissect her behaviour, her misdemeanours and failings. She would be disciplined for breaking his rule that she must not flirt with men. Whatever explanation she would give would be insufficient, as he would have set his mind to return her to complete submission, whether with sex or with some form of corporal punishment. She feared both would be on his agenda, in a combination that would tax her abilities.
She felt strangely resigned to her fate. She didn’t deserve his anger as she had done nothing wrong. However, his undivided attention would be guaranteed, and she would submit to attempt to rectify his negative feelings towards her. Pushing away her own anger, she acknowledged her pathetic, needy wretchedness would allow her to be. A rogue tear fell down her cheek. His return had become a nightmarish anti-climax, all her plans to welcome him scuppered.
***
“Señora?”
Maria crept quietly into the room. Señor Lucas remained ensconced in his office. He had summoned her to prepare her mistress. Over the intercom, his tone came across as ominous and severe. She had time, she thought, to speak to the señora.
“Maria. He has seen me dancing with another man. I must answer to him for my behaviour.” She sniffed. “Can you help me with this dress zipper?”
“No, señora. I will not let you be treated this way!”
“What did you say?” Gemma turned to see her face.
Maria’s lips set firm. She believed the señora acquiesced to her master too easily and quickly, and initiating a session in the heat of high emotions was plainly wrong. The wife had been devoted to her absent husband. Perhaps Señor Lucas had come back from the stresses of work thinking of other voyages on his yacht, with other submissives. Those girls had been extremely biddable and compliant to anything he chose to do to them. She remembered those cruises vividly. However, this woman wasn’t only his submissive, but also his legal wife, with rights and status. A status Enrique had never given her.
“You are his wife, señora. Whatever else you are to him, you have a right to be treated with respect and not accused of infid
elities. You told me this morning how hard you found his absence, missing him and keeping him in your thoughts. You succeeded, and he accuses you of not being a good wife. Don’t let him, señora. I beg you.”
Gemma sighed, still unsuccessfully fiddling with her zipper. “It isn’t that easy.”
“Señora. Has he really been told the truth? What evidence does he have to make him think you have been unfaithful? The man is hasty, perhaps. Don’t let him find you here. Make him come to you as an equal. He loves you. Remind him of that.”
She picked up a small notepad off the chest of drawers and handed it to Gemma, along with a pencil. “You know what to write. Then go, up above. Away from him. Wait.”
***
Entering the stateroom, Jason saw no sign of Gemma. Checking the bathrooms, he failed to find her. He saw the piece of paper on his pillow, resting in the indentation left by her sleeping head.
RED
