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‘Well?’ His eyes probe mine.
‘Delicious. Savoury and sweet at the same time.’
He nods his approval. ‘They are my favourite.’
He replaces the tray on the kitchen bench then nods to the deck. ‘Shall we?’
I blink. ‘Shall we what?’ My temperature is already sky-high.
His smile shows he understands the direction of my thoughts. ‘Sunbathe, of course.’ His wink is that of the bad boy I know him to be, and yet I fall into step behind him. When he gestures to a row of four sunbeds lined up at the front of the yacht, I take a middle one, relaxing as the sun wraps me in warmth.
‘I don’t remember the last time I did this. If ever.’
‘Holidayed?’
I nod. ‘Most of my trips are official, and there’s barely a free moment to relax. I don’t mind—if I’m going to be away from home, I’d rather use the time productively. But I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to simply...exist.’
He reaches out and laces our fingers together. ‘You’re working now too. Sort of.’
‘But let’s not, today.’ I decide on the spur of the moment, looking at him directly. ‘Let’s not talk about the casino or the land. I know we have to, at some point, but it will just ruin things to do so now.’
His eyes narrow and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to argue but then he shrugs indolently. ‘Very well, querida. If you wish.’
The sun lances across him, a golden blade that invites my fingers to reach out and touch. Instead, I simply stare, my eyes drinking in the sight of him.
‘You must travel often for work?’ he prompts, either unaware of my shameless lusting or choosing not to acknowledge it.
I swallow past a constricted throat. ‘Not that often, actually.’ My eyes flick to his. ‘Mainly in neighbouring Scandinavian countries, occasionally further afield. I went to Australia two years ago.’
‘Did you like it?’
I nod. ‘Oh, very much. I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a country with such dramatic differences. One day I was in the tropics and the next in wineries shrouded in mist. There’s snow and deserts, beaches filled with white sand and turquoise water—they put me in mind of the Mediterranean. And the people are so friendly.’
‘Was it a work trip?’
‘Of course.’ I nod. ‘And it was quick. I saw a lot, but my schedule was crammed full, so most of the “seeing” was done through the windows of my limousine.’
His lips twist for a moment, and again I have a sense that there’s something he’s not saying, but the look is gone again almost immediately.
‘What work were you doing?’
‘Studying their tourism industry. Marlsdoven is very small but very beautiful. We want more people to come and see it for themselves. Sadly, we’re overshadowed by our more well-known neighbours.’
He nods thoughtfully, his eyes sparking with mine for a moment.
I sigh, his point, though not spoken, well taken. ‘I suppose you think your casino will attract tourists.’
‘Undoubtedly, but we aren’t talking about that today.’
I turn my attention to the view, the beautiful glistening sea beyond the yacht, the warmth of the sun, the drama of the city in the distance. The famous spires of the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s vision, reach towards the sky surrounded by a glow of terracotta, all golden and red. The contrast with the aqua colour of the ocean is almost too beautiful to bear.
‘My government is focussing on transport infrastructure,’ I say after a moment. ‘We want to make it easy and cheap to come to Marlsdoven. A high-speed rail line is being designed at the moment, with the hope of bringing visitors directly from Amsterdam.’
He doesn’t reply, and silence clouds around us, but it’s a content silence, the gentle lapping of waves against the boat lulling me until my breathing slows and my eyes feel heavy.
‘Why did you buy into casinos?’
The question is slumberous, and I don’t look at him.
