He looks at me then, and for once, I can’t read his eyes. They’re colder than usual.
“You’re being very ungrateful, Grace. Most girls your age would kill for an opportunity like this. A week of luxury, a world-class team, and not a care in the world.”
“Most girls my age are out there living their lives and partying,” I mutter.
He leans forward, lacing his hands. “Yes, they are, and they do not have a career or opportunities like you. You should be more grateful.”
I’m not going to bother answering him.
I simply nod and turn, leaving his office.
I run up the stairs two at a time, then slam my backpack on the bed. I stare out the window, at the pool lights shining on a blue nothing, at the tennis courts, the guesthouse, the hedge maze, all the pointless things that fill my family’s little world. I pack my bag, but I can’t shake the feeling that I am missing something, and everything is about to change.
Forever.
SQUINTING MY EYES,I stare at the massive yacht in front of me. It looks like a floating mansion. A monstrous white-on-white palace rising above the marina, dwarfing the lesser yachts with unapologetic wealth. The glass railings glisten in the early sun, and the upper decks stack upward until they reach a pool deck. Even from the dock, I can see the gold script on the stern, “Virtue.” I snort.
Aggie whistles beside me, mouthing “what the fuck” at the sheer size of it. Tati, in her silk slip and mirrored sunglasses, gives the vessel a slow, full-body scan. The captain stands at the base of the stairs leading up to the entrance, a horrifically fake smile on his face, and beside him, three staff members offer the same, I would rather be anywhere else, expressions. Well, all except one, who kind of looks like he has never seen a boat of any kind before. He is looking around in awe, big glasses perched on his nose. Then, he proceeds to yabber to the captain, to the point he is forced to turn away.
“Oh, this should be interesting,” I mumble.
I wonder how much my father paid them for this.
Rachel and Iris are already waiting to go on, both in matching linen pants and white bikini tops, arms folded in unison. They glare at us as we approach, like it isn’t my father's money paying for this entire trip. Rachel, who is utterly stunning, if it wasn’t for her personality, has her long black hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head. Her light green eyes are striking with her white bikini top. She is taller than the rest of us, and leaner, but she can dance, no doubt about it.
Iris is the quieter of the two, and has this soft mousy brown hair that goes all the way down her back, and hazel eyes. Shehas freckles on her nose, and is the shortest out of all of us, but she makes it work. Even when they told her she wasn’t tall enough, wasn’t lean enough, she made it work. She is a good dancer. Sure, she might never be in the lead, but she has gotten somewhere and that’s something to be proud of.
“Oh, good,” says Rachel, her lips barely moving, “you made it.”
I smile with as much poison as I can manage. “Well, considering my dad paid for your trip, I should think you’d be more grateful to be here.”
Yuck, I just sounded like him.
Rachel loses her smile, and Iris snorts. “Of course you’re going to remind us your daddy paid for this trip. We’re part of the team, too, or did you forget?”
“Trust me,” I mumble. “That is impossible to forget.”
Aggie leans in, whispering, “I hope they clear us to throw trash overboard, because those two are already polluting the atmosphere.”
I laugh and Tatiana continues glaring at the two of them.
We hustle forward, getting onto the yacht like a pack of wild animals. There is too much chattering and giggling, and I am still far too suspicious about this trip and why the hell my father decided it was essential right in this very moment of time. I try to shake it off, though, because I know it is important that I relax and enjoy it. Hell, it might be the only vacation I actually get anytime soon.
Inside, it’s even more surreal. Marble floors, a single curved staircase, fancy lights and polished timber walls. Everything smells faintly of lemon and bleach. Aggie takes off at a sprint up the staircase, calling dibs on whatever room she can find before the others. Tati follows her with a screech, and I can’t help but laugh. I could follow them, but I don’t actually care where I sleep. I am too fascinated by how utterly beautiful this boat is.
I’m no more than ten steps in when I spot the first man.
Considering I wasn’t expecting anyone but the crew, I am shocked, especially because this man isn’t the kind I ever would have thought I would see on a yacht. I pause, tipping my head to the side as my eyes scan over him. This man, he doesn’t belong here. He isn’t rich, or fancy, and he certainly isn’t a crew member.
So, who the hell is he?
He’s leaning against the wall next to the elevator, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes lowered as he scans the room. His jaw is sharp, stubble so consistent it feels deliberate, and when he shifts, I notice the telltale ink snaking up the side of his neck and disappearing beneath his collar. He clocks me looking and tips his chin, the smallest possible acknowledgment.
I have to remind myself to breathe, because he has the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen on a man. Laced with golden specks, they feel as though they penetrate right through me. He is, without a doubt, the most breathtaking and terrifying man I have ever seen.
Nobody mentioned security on this trip. At least, not this kind. My father’s protection always wore blazers and earpieces, eyes on the exits, never on me. This guy’s different. He’s maybe ten years older than me but carries himself like he could kill time—and probably me—just by thinking about it.
I step toward him before I know why. Maybe it’s pure curiosity.
