“Nice outfit,” I say, gesturing to his all-black everything. “You guys the on-board entertainment? Should we expect a strip show?”
He smirks. His teeth are perfect, which isn’t what I expected. “Entertainment’s not my thing. I keep people from making bad decisions. Mostly, a bunch of ballet dancers.”
I glance at his hands, and see old yellowing bruises on his knuckles. Up close, his face has some faded silver scars that tell me he has been in a few fights.
“Well, lucky for you, we’re not too much trouble. Though, a strip show would be nice. I’m Grace, by the way.”
“I know who you are,” he murmurs. “I’m Ace.”
I laugh. “Ace and Grace. Hilarious.”
His mouth twitches.
Aggie appears at the landing above us, her face erupting into the world's biggest smile. “Grace! They left chocolate on every pillow! And there’s a spa, and a movie theatre, and a fucking juice bar with six kinds of fresh-squeezed...” She trails off when she sees Ace, and her whole face rearranges itself into a mask of sudden, intense interest. “Oh, hello there...I didn’t know we got men, too.”
His eyes scan over her. “Security.”
“I’ve already asked about the strip show, he said no,” I say, walking towards her.
Aggie raises her brows and looks at me, and then her eyes widen as she looks past me. I glance around, and sure enough, there’s two more of them—the first one, taller than Ace but less solid, has dirty blond hair, gorgeous brown eyes and skin that looks like a bronze god. He is spectacular.
The man beside him is darker, scarier, and looks more like he could murder someone just for enjoyment. His hair, dark and long, shaved on the sides, makes him look like a Viking. Especially considering he has it pulled back. His eyes, a deep brown, almost black, make him even more terrifying. He is more muscular than the other two men, and he absolutely looks like he could crush me with one hand.
Rachel and Iris have appeared at the bottom of the staircase, heads bent together, eyes cutting sideways toward the three men. Iris has her hand over her mouth. Rachel keeps glancingback, the way you do when you’re trying to look like you’re not looking.
My father doesn’t do anything without a reason. He certainly doesn’t send men with scarred knuckles and neck tattoos and eyes that track every exit just to make sure a group of ballet dancers don’t get too drunk and fall overboard.
Why do I feel like I’m missing something?
A crew member appears with a tray of champagne flutes, the perfect cue for me to leave and find a room, before I overthink this situation any further. I take two—one for myself, one for Tati—then head up the stairs, Ace’s gaze burning into my back the whole way.
For the next half hour, I wander the upper decks, exploring. I find myself a beautiful room with an ocean view and a spa bath, and throw my stuff down. Aggie catches up with me on the sun deck, arms loaded with towels. “Dude, those men are fucking fine. Do you think they’re, like, mafia or something?”
I laugh. “No, but they’re definitely something.”
“Well, I’m not complaining. I’m a single girl and we’re here on a yacht with these gorgeous men for a week. I’m taking my chances at getting into at least one of their pants.”
I snort, but grin. “You’re an animal.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
I keep the grin.
We find and settle into deck chairs, sun warming our legs. The morning dissolves into laughter, and the distant hum of engines as Virtue pulls away from the dock, the city shrinking in the haze.
For one perfect hour, I believe it might actually be a vacation.
