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And trust me, I tried to find as much time as I could to just make it me and Nick. It helped that I had been sleeping over in his penthouse suite every night, where we’d stay up for way too long, either playing with each other or just talking, naked, lying on top of the covers and eating room service brought up by a butler.
I was excited about today’s excursion, especially since it was another day of just Nick and me. It was Christmas Eve, and the cheer of the season practically sparkled in the air. We walked into the market together. It was a perfectly romantic setup and one I wanted to stroll through hand in hand with Nick.
Not that we were even anything official, where I could expect hand-holding status. And yet all I wanted to do was reach out and grab him by the hand as we walked past the arch of lights marking the entrance to the market, two Christmas palm trees bordering either side of it.
I couldn’t, though. I had to keep acting as if we were simply friends, hanging out on a cruise together.
You know, just two cruising bros, cruising the seas together, broing it out.
Two bros, jerking each other off and licking the come off each other’s abs.
Just bro stuff.
It didn’t help that I still hadn’t made much progress on who the stowaway paparazzo was. I found it interesting that none of the photos of me covered in cake and Nick helping me had made it to the tabloids. It made me think that maybe the man, who I seemed to have scared away, just wasn’t around to take the photos. I hadn’t seen him anywhere since the incident at the ugly-sweater party. I had made sure to keep an eagle eye out for him everywhere we went but didn’t spot him anywhere. I even did a couple of laps around the entire ship, which took me hours, with the sole purpose of finding him, but he had somehow remained out of sight. When we stopped at Grand Cayman for two days, I wondered if maybe he had gotten off, decided to just fly home from the island. Maybe he felt like his gig was up and he’d rather spend his holidays with family instead of stalking the prince. It was a long shot and one I highly doubted, but until I spotted him again, I had to think of possible alternatives.
There was also the chance that this man had nothing to do with the leaked photos. Maybe I needed to be looking closer. At someone who had full access to Nick, and worked as a shadow alongside him.
Luna. I felt like Nick genuinely trusted her, but that didn’t mean she was off my list. As a detective, I had to follow my own instincts, not anyone else’s. I learned that very quickly after my first few cases at Stonewall. It’s why I had spent about half an hour asking her questions out on the deck, and she had answered all of them just fine.
“And you’re sure no one followed you from the palace?” I remembered asking her, noticing that her eyes barely ever left Nick, who had sat by the bar and was chatting with Ace and Rex.
“There’s always a small possibility, but, honestly, I don’t think any paparazzo is that determined or skilled.”
“Have you noticed anyone on the ship who might have recognized Nick?”
She thought on that one. “No, Nick’s surprisingly been able to keep a low profile. Even with his infatuation with you.”
“Infatu… me… you think, I mean, you’ve noticed?”
“It’s my job to notice every little thing that goes on around Nick.” She had given me a playful wink. “It’ll be my secret of course.”
The talk soon got derailed. After meeting her, I came away understanding why Nick trusted her.
The paparazzo’s identity remained a mystery.
For now, though, it was just me and Nick (and Luna somewhere off in the distance), currently walking through the bright and festive outdoor market on St. John’s Island, celebrating with a Christmas festival that took over the entire island. The crowd wasn’t very dense, so I could easily tell that no one was paying any extra attention to us. It was the evening, so the sun was midway down the horizon, the sky painted in bold purples and warm pinks. There were Christmas lights strung up everywhere you looked, wrapping up the lengths of the palm trees, hanging off the market stalls and creating a blast of holiday light everywhere you looked.
“Check this out,” Nick said, motioning over to a large stall selling an assortment of necklaces, all different colors and styles laid out on open shelves, on top of red pillows. “I think one of these would look good on you.” He picked up a beaded necklace made from black-and-white beads, glittering like little gemstones. He held against my neck. The merchant smiled and agreed with Nick, saying it would look great with a matching pair.
