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However, I can question myself later because right now, I need to get my head back in the game.
The sexism has come in handy because when Aleksei declared we were going to have a celebration, I was expected to cater for all. Saint, of course, knew this would be the case, and although it pains me to serve these murderous assholes, it has allowed me to set our plan into motion.
Saint stole enough sleeping pills to drug a small nation. He said Zoey wouldn’t notice because, judging from her comatose state as she lays sprawled out on the sofa, it seems Aleksei has already ensured she stays in her own private drugged bubble for the night.
I believe this is punishment for today’s outburst. If he’s doing this to buy his way into my good books, he will be sorely disappointed when I stand back and watch Saint end his miserable life.
I keep my hands steady as I pour drinks for everyone. It seems simple enough, so I can only hope this plan doesn’t backfire. Ensuring I keep the blue cups pumped full of crushed sleeping tablets and other drugs Saint ensured me would knock them out cold from the non-lethal red cups, I pour the top shelf vodka, hoping my nerves don’t betray me.
When I was ordered to go into the kitchen, Saint made some excuse to be in there too. Aleksei was too euphoric over my virginity and his guard was lowered which allowed Saint to slip the drugs into the cups and also the bottle of vodka with the blue label.
I was convinced we’d get caught, but Saint’s sneakiness came in handy, and he laced the cups and vodka before my eyes. The tension was toxic between us, making this plan even harder because it seems we both need to put some space between us.
But we don’t have that luxury because when Saint looks at his watch and meets my eyes, I know it’s time.
The men have been drinking all night, and the stereotype that Russians love vodka seems to be accurate. Some are already a little tipsy, but Saint is clearly not leaving anything to chance as he scoops up the blue cups and bottle, indicating I’m to follow.
Aleksei sits at the table playing cards, and judging by the wad of cash piled high beside him, I dare say he’s whipping everyone’s asses. The thought turns my stomach because this shitstorm all started when I was sold in a game of poker. The thought of ending this bastard’s life is becoming easier and easier to accept.
“???????,” he says when I walk behind Saint, drinks in hand. I still don’t know what that means, but by the way he smiles at me, I dare say it’s his term of endearment for me. “You are a wonderful cook.”
The vast amount of food on board allowed me to whip up quite an assortment of party food. As I prepared the beef sliders, I couldn’t stop thinking of this as the last meal because that’s what it will be for Aleksei if Saint and I are able to pull off our plan.
“Thank you,” I reply, pushing sentiment aside and placing a blue cup in front of him.
Just as I attempt to move, he launches forward and takes a hold of my wrist. I dare not breathe, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Saint watching the exchange closely. “If I didn’t know any better,” he purrs while I brace for him to tell me our jig is up, “I’d say you were trying to take advantage of me by giving me all this alcohol.”
Relief swarms over me, but I try my best to remain unmoved.
“But I know that’s not true because why?” He looks up at me, a shit-eating grin glowing from ear to ear.
Every part of me rebels, primed on telling him to go to hell, but this is what we’re celebrating, after all. All the men look at me with a new hunger reflected in their glassy eyes. I am the guest of honor, or rather, my hymen is.
I’m sickened beyond belief.
With that as my mindset, I ensure to play my part and not rouse suspicion. “Because I am holding on to my virtue.”
Aleksei sighs in victory, finally letting me go. “Yes, you are.”
When one of the men says something in Russian, causing the table to erupt in laughter, Saint turns to glare over his shoulder. Getting off this yacht can’t come soon enough.
Aleksei joins the commotion, which is just fine because when he reaches for his cup, I will have the last laugh. As I attempt to move away, he gestures for me to stay. “I want to make a toast.”
I stand by his side, taking steady breaths so I don’t give away my nerves.
“To you,???????. I know we’re going to be very happy together.” This man is fucking delirious, but when he raises the cup in salute, I know our plan has just begun. “To my little????????????.”
The men follow suit, raising their drinks to salute my virginity, I’m guessing by the clenching of Saint’s jaw.
But they can salute all they want because when they, one by one, gulp down their laced drinks, it’ll be the last thing they do for a while. I’m on eggshells as I wait for Aleksei to take the fatal sip, but he doesn’t.
My heart begins to race.
He brings the cup to his lips but then stops, eyeing the drink closely. Can he see the small white particles? Or does his sense of smell hint that something is off?
Whatever it is, he has to drink it now because as the men top off their cups with the laced vodka, I know they’ll be out for the count before too long.
Aleksei peers over at Saint, who stands rigid, and then at me. He surely suspects something. And when he addresses Saint, I know that I’m right. “Where is your drink, my friend?”
