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And now he could put the business with the painting behind him. He was surprised to find a sense of relief. Perhaps that was what had been missing when he’d toasted Aliah in Victoriana. The line in the sand. Everyone now had their due and their own piece of revenge.
Not everyone, his inner voice chided.
Sia might not have a job or a career to return to when their time together concluded. Not that she should return to a company as rotten as Bonnaire’s, but still.
‘Fancy taking her for a spin?’ he asked Sia, while wondering if perhaps there was something he could do about that.
‘Really?’
‘Sure. It’s not as if there’s a lot of traffic out here for you to hit,’ he said, gesturing to the acres of crystal-blue sea around them. She practically jumped off the seat in her eagerness and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. When he’d returned to find her at breakfast, for a moment he’d wondered... There had been a look in her eyes, but it had disappeared since then.
Shutting that thought down, he brought her in between his body and the wheel, encasing her within his arms, and smiled when she looked up at him.
‘What do I do?’
‘Aim for that small island over there,’ he said, placing her
hands on the wheel. ‘Have a bit of a go—gently,’ he said as she squeaked and the boat veered off to the left. He guided the wheel back on course. ‘You got it?’ She nodded, her expression fierce with concentration, allowing him to stand back a little and enjoy.
It’s just for now, he told himself. Just for the next two weeks. Because after that, whether she returned to Bonnaire’s or not, whether she miraculously found either the proof or the painting, she’d be gone from his life. And he was happy with that, he told himself fiercely. He was good at indulging momentary pleasures and that was what Sia was. An incredible, impressive woman but she was only in his life for the next eleven days. He’d done serious, he’d buckled down when he’d needed to, he’d played the parent, even. And no matter what kind of promise he saw in Sia’s eyes, he would not willingly return to that.
The wind whipped at the white linen top Sia wore over her orange bikini. He couldn’t help but smile. That morning, when he’d presented her with it, rather than questioning it or hesitating, she ran her eyes over it in wonder, the smile pulling at her lips one of excited expectation. A look he wanted to see much more of from her.
‘Sebastian?’ Sia called over the roaring wind, pulling him from his thoughts.
They were approaching the island and he took the wheel, keeping her encircled in his arms. ‘Perfect. Thank you, Chief Mate,’ he said.
‘If you expect me to say aye-aye, or call you Captain then—’
Sia broke off at the sudden, shocking heat in Sebastian’s gaze that threatened to consume them both in its ferocity even as he powered down the boat.
‘Really?’ she teased. ‘You want me to—’
And then all she could do was scream as he scooped her up in his arms and jumped them both overboard, the warm water soothing on wind and sun-kissed skin, his arms around her as he trod water to keep them above the surface.
‘You look like a mermaid,’ he said as she pushed the wet ropes of her hair back from her face, before putting her arms around his neck, leaning in and pressing her lips against his, the warm salty water making her bold. He held her against him, allowing her to explore him, her fingers travelling around his strong neck and shoulders, her legs around his waist, his thighs supporting her. She wanted nothing more, to think of nothing more, no doubts, no needs, just want. Just him.
He carried her all the way to the shore, where they had a picnic on the beach of cold potted shrimp with mango salad, bacon-wrapped crab bites, salmon rillettes, smoky seared octopus, fresh green lemony salad and beautiful breads with butter and a bottle of chilled white wine. They snorkelled, swam, laughed and kissed and not once did Sia think of Sebastian’s morning boat trip, the lost painting or her job.
Because this loose and easy way of living... She was beginning to really fall for it.
INTERVIEWER ONE: So let me get this right. You went to the Caribbean, where you attended a VIP party with no VIPs, went snorkelling, swimming and had a picnic? Did you even look for the painting? I mean, separate rooms at least would have allowed you some time alone—did you not investigate at all?
MS KEATING: I no longer believed that he had the painting with him in the Caribbean.
INTERVIEWER TWO: But did you ask him?
MS KEATING: If he had the painting?
INTERVIEWER TWO: No, about his mother.
Sia followed Sebastian back to the cabin, her fingers tangled with his, her body happily exhausted from swimming and snorkelling and her heart satiated with happiness. She caught sight of a barbecue set up on the decking.
‘I hope you don’t mind. The restaurant is now closed so that they can prepare for opening next week. You’re going to have to put up with my cooking.’
‘You cook?’ she asked, genuinely surprised.
‘Not at all,’ he said without shame, ‘but putting a piece of meat on a grill and presenting dishes that other people have prepared is hardly cooking.’
