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“I think I saw you with it last night, right? Up here on the afterdeck?” Bogdan asks. “Let me see if Karol has seen it.” He skips off down the steps.
I wander around, looking, hoping maybe it slid under something, but find nothing. And he returns a minute later, his hands empty.
Shit.
“Bogdan, when are we going back to shore?” I ask, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.
He just smiles at me, and that delicious feeling between my legs from the night before comes flooding back.
Damn him.
“Abby, you are on vacation. Now why don’t you take this lovely swimsuit Ilya brought you and try it on? I’m dying for a swim.”
I’m running out of patience. Quickly. “Bogdan,whenare we going back?”
He places a hand on my arm. “The captain has other plans, Abby. I suggest you relax. Enjoy the beautiful day.”
I clench my fists, hoping no one notices. It won’t do to lose my shit. At least not yet.
“What other plans? What do you mean?”
This is what happens when you take a risk. Shit blows up right in your face. I never should have gotten on this damn boat. I never should have come to Ibiza. And I never should have spent five minutes of my time with those silly girls.
I should have continued to enjoy my own company in Madrid, wandering around, seeing the sites, and eating good tapas.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Dad will be sick with worry, and when I do get back in touch with him—if my goddamn phone ever resurfaces. He’ll be beyond furious. He’ll demand that I come home, which he can do since he funds the debit card I’ve been using, and he won’t let me out of his sight again until it’s time to return to school.
I’m fucked. So royally fucked.
I snatch the swimsuit out of Ilya’s hands and slam it down on the table that Karol just cleared and is now setting cocktails on.
“Enough with the swimsuit. I don’t want to swim,” I say firmly. “I don’t want a cocktail. I want to go back to shore.”
Bogdan presses his lips together and rubs his forehead, glancing sideways at the other guys.
What the fuck, dude?
I push past him, shoulder chucking him as hard as I can. “I’m going to find the girls. They cannot be sleeping still.”
This is crazy and I don’t like it one bit. If I want to be ferried back to the island, I expect them to honor my request. I have my dad to answer to. I didn’t sign up to hang out on a freaking yacht all day.
And that night club where this shit all started. Yuck. I didn’t even have a chance to tell the girls that when I went to the ladies’ room, every other stall was full of people having sex. I can understand getting some vacation dick. But I never expected it to be so goddamn in my face.
I look out over the water to Ibiza. Definitely too far to swim. Fuck.
“I wouldn’t bother if I were you,” Bogdan says in a quiet voice. “Looking for the sisters.”
“What? Why?” I snap.
Fedor rounds the table and puts a firm hand on my shoulder, pushing me back into my seat. “You won’t find them, Abby.”
My heart pounds and tears flick my eyes. But I don’t want to cry in front of these guys. I misheard them, right? I am overreacting. Nothing to worry about.
Right.
“What do you mean I won’t find them?” I finally ask.
