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“Steak,” I mouthed silently to her when she looked to me for help, and she pointed to the red with a sheepish grin.
“Is this what I think it is?” she asked me as he poured our wine for us.
“Jill, we’ve been too touch-and-go the past week,” I said, leaning forward and admiring the reflected candlelight in her eyes. “This week is going to be about showing you what things are like in my life. Everything I can do. And I don’t just mean what I showed you in the bedroom earlier,” I said once the waiter had walked off, my voice low and husky. Her face burned a shade of red that complemented the blue of her dress lovingly.
“So, let me guess, you have a gourmet sushi chef on retainer?” she asked jokingly.
“He’s on vacation with his family in Tokyo,” I said, taking pleasure in watching her eyes widen. “This week’s chef is Australian, and I don’t think he’ll disappoint. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
She shook her head.
“Good. I was hoping to start off the week with a little color. We have stuffed mushrooms to start with,” I demonstrated, and with perfect timing, our server returned with two plates of steaming, perfectly cooked mushrooms absolutely bursting with a creamy stuffing and smelling rich and earthy. “And after that, full-blood Wagyu tenderloin. And of course, some dessert cheese and wine afterward.”
“How would madam like her steak cooked?” the server asked kindly.
“Medium-rare,” Jill said dumbly up at him, still in shock about everything.
“Oh thank God, I was worried you might be a well-done kind of woman,” I said. “I find it true that once you’ve gotten a taste of blood,” I warned, holding her gaze meaningfully. “You keep coming back for more.”
She squirmed in her seat and took a drink of wine rather quickly, and I grinned. Sometimes, Jillian gave me the impression she was somewhere between guest and hostage on this ship, and if I were a gambling man, I’d suspect that some part of her enjoyed that. Of course she was neither. She was always free to leave. Always. But I knew deep in my gut it would never come to that.
Dinner was exquisite. We made small-talk about the details of the yacht over the appetizer before the cuts of steak arrived. I’d never seen a woman tear into a steak like that before. I wondered if she’d ever had Wagyu beef before, because she devoured it as if she’d been starving.
Being able to give her that luxury made me feel proud in a way I rarely felt when entertaining guests.
By the time we finished the dessert cheese and wine, conversation had turned to where exactly I was taking us over the next few days. But we were on our third glass of wine, and I was starting to feel restless in my seat.
“I mean, I’ve never honestly looked at yacht destinations, really” she was saying, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
“Always too busy running things behind the scenes to enjoy it a little yourself, I’d imagine,” I assumed with a smile. “Come, an empty dining table is no place to really enjoy a yacht. You can bring your glass,” I added as we started to stand up. Jillian swayed a little, but I took her arm in mine again to guide her.
I led her upstairs to a spacious lounge that included an even more panoramic view of the waters ahead of us with less of the deck in the way. Where the dining room’s theme was black and white, this lounge’s was a dark, seductive red and dark wood, with long couches circling a large coffee table in the center, a hot tub
in the corner, and a bar near the front. It was all unattended, of course. I wanted the lounge to ourselves.
“There are no set destinations on my yachts,” I said, leading her to the windows and peering out into the illuminated seas. “I have a rough plan, but I was hoping to get your input on the details.”
“My input?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not sure what I could do, but…”
I smiled at her and walked over to the coffee table’s large, glass surface reached under it to press a button. The screen under the glass table lit up, and it displayed a map of the Caribbean before our eyes, a dull glow in the dim room, and a little red blip showed where we were located.
“Yes, I have a map inside a luxury coffee table like some kind of Bond villain.”
I chuckled at her expression, and I beckoned her over with a finger. She strode over to the thing and peered over it, setting her wine glass on the arm of one of the chairs.
I set my own glass down, moved behind her, and slipped my arms around her hips. She turned her head to look back at me for a moment, but she didn’t resist.
“I see how you carry yourself around the ship,” I whispered into her ear, and I felt her whole body shiver. I squeezed her closer. “You’ve grown into a woman who knows what she wants. You act like you’re not comfortable with the serving staff around, but you’re a natural, Jill. This suits you.”
“This?” she whispered back.
“Being a part of this world,” I stated, running a hand down the length of her arm to her fingertips, clasping her hand gently. “You’re such a hard worker that you don’t know how to enjoy the benefits. Let’s start slowly.”
I guided her hand over to the red blip on the screen. “That’s us,” I said. Then guided her to the cluster of islands just off the coast of Florida. “To be back in seven days, all this is open to you,” I said, tracing my finger around a radius of islands. “We’re headed for the Bahamas generally, but what looks good?”
She stared at the map for a few moments, and she wasn’t as overwhelmed by choices as I was expecting. In fact, she put a finger to her lips, peering at the map with genuine interest. “I hear the Berry Islands are nice,” she said thoughtfully. “Where are they?”
I smiled and guided her finger over to the little chain of islands, putting her finger on them. As I did, I pushed her forward a little more, my hot breath on her neck.
