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I head back to my area of the ship, into my quarters, and don a white button-down shirt. Dinner with Bianca will be difficult, I’m sure, but I need her to understand she can’t defy me while a prisoner on my ship.
By the time I make it to the dining room, Gordon, the cook, has set the table for two. I sit and wait for Bianca to join me.
When she enters the room, it’s as if someone sucked the air out and I have a hard time catching my breath.
She’s wearing the same red dress from the night I abducted her. The slit up the right side, showcases a killer set of legs. She’s stunning.
“Don’t think just because I’m dressed nice means I’m ready to play nice.”
“You could wear nothing at all and it would look amazing.”
Her eyes challenge me. “I’m sure you’d love that,” she jokes.
“I would love it.” I’ve been imagining her without clothes since she stepped onto this ship, and my crew probably has too. “However, I would never allow it.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, accentuating her bosom. “Oh? Why’s that?”
I rise from my seat, moving across the room to where I’m inches from her. I could kiss her right now if I wanted to. And believe me, I want to. “I’d never let you flaunt yourself around my men. They’d try something and then I’d have to kill ‘em.”
She swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. “Oh. I just wanted to dress up.”
I won’t dare tell her she looks amazing in whatever she wears. I won’t dare say she could wear any article of clothing in the world and make it look perfect. Even a garbage bag. I’m sure I’d still want to rip it off and have my wicked way with her. Not yet anyway.
I try to push those thoughts as far out of my head as possible because I can’t afford to have my way with her. Wicked or any other.
Bishop’s words flood my ears, “Don’t lay a finger on her.”
“I only asked you here to ensure you eat.”
Bianca rolls her eyes, taking a seat as I pull out the chair for her. “And what will we be having today?”
I lean over, behind her chair, whispering against her ear, “Your favorite.”
Her body shivers. “Lasagna?”
Does she really think I don’t remember her always turning her nose up whenever her father’s chef made her lasagna? “No, of course not. Shrimp scampi.”
“I hate scampi.”
“Nonsense. You used to love it.” I chuckle. “I remember you stealing the shrimp from my plate when you thought I wasn’t looking.” I return to my seat.
“Well, I despise shrimp now. Things change, Costi.” She arches a brow at me from over her glass. “You should know that.”
Very well. I guess it’s going to be an even longer trip than expected.
Six
Bianca
* * *
When I was a little girl, my mother read me stories of pirates and princesses. Pirates were always the villain in every book we read. They pillaged and rummaged, stealing what they wanted. Taking what wasn’t theirs.
The princesses would cry, wishing more than anything to go home to their perfect lives while the pirates held them hostage.
“I can have the chef prepare you something else,” Costi offers.
I adore shrimp scampi, but I don’t want him to assume things haven’t changed. Because they have changed. Every feeling I’ve ever had for the boy that left me ten years ago is now replaced with a ghost of a memory.
A long-lost love.
I mourn the love I once held for Constantine Gold.
In its place is an emptiness. A blackness unable to hold the happiness of love ever again. A deep void of darkness.
Maybe when I return—because mark my words, I will return—I’ll marry Gino and give my father the life he wants for me.
Children.
Happiness.
Away from the likes of a pirate.
A man brings the shrimp scampi to the table, and even though it looks delicious, I turn my nose up at it.
Now, if Costi were the pirate he pretends to be, he’d throw me in the ship’s dungeon and force me to eat soggy bread. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he has the server take the scampi away and asks for a replacement meal.
“There’s not enough time to make lasagna, but we can have a salad. Yes?”
“Yes, a salad is fine.”
My stomach weeps at the loss of the scampi dish, but this is a power play I won’t lose. I need to know how much of the old Costi remains hidden behind the scowling eyes of the man before me.
The waiter brings out a boring plate of salad and I gobble it, hating my situation.
“How have you been?” Costi asks from across the table.
“Do you mean since you took me prisoner? Or how have I been since the day you walked away and never looked back?” I roll a cherry tomato around on my plate, wishing I could bring back the scampi dish. I’d love to sink my teeth into a plump shrimp right now.
