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“Oh dear,” I mutter.
“Oh dear indeed, Pen.” Matt glances behind me, curiosity warming them. “Can we go inside? Your lips are turning blue.”
I know he cares more about getting anMTV Cribs-style tour than my health, but I lead him through the yacht regardless. His slew ofholy shit’s andfucking hell’s echo off the mahogany walls, and by the time we enter the lounge, he’s buzzing with excitement.
“Imagine being so rich you live on a yacht,” he exclaims, yanking off his beanie and flopping down on a sofa. “Do you know how much it costs to run a boat this size?”
“No. Do you?”
He looks at me seriously. “A fuck-ton of cash.”
Smiling, I flick on the barista machine behind the bar. “You’re just a walking, talking calculator, aren’t you Matty? Coffee?”
“On Raphael Visconti’s yacht? Obviously.”
I make us both flat whites and join him on the sofa. He eyes me over the steam rising from his cup. “Come on, then. What’s the deal?”
I hitch a shoulder.To hell if I know.“I think…well, I don’t know. I think we’re fucking.”
I use present, not past tense, because the suitcase sitting in the corner of the room suggests I’m going to be hanging around for a little while.
Matt blinks. “You’re fucking Raphael Visconti.”
“Can you stop saying his full name like that? Sounds like you want to fuck him too.”
He ignores me. “You’re fucking Raphael Visconti on his mega yacht.”
“Are you telling me or asking me?”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “I’m reiterating the fact in the hope you’ll stop looking like you’re about to cry and realize how lucky you are.” He shakes his head, a bitter edge to his expression. “Bet his dick ishuge.”
Lucky.My necklace grows denser. I don’t feel lucky. Raphael’s hot body flushed against mine only raised more questions than answers, and now there’s a constant stream of unease running through my veins.
My fingers curl around my coffee cup so tightly it scalds my skin. I have the sudden urge to grip Matt by the collar of his puffer jacket and beg him to help me.
Instead, I claw together some decorum and glare at the space above his head. “I don’t know what this is,” I mutter.
“You’re friends with benefits.”
“We’renotfriends.”
“Enemies with benefits, then. Jeez, Pen. Have you never had a fuck buddy before?”
My gaze slides down to his shit-eating smirk. Something about my expression wipes it right off.
He nods. Sets down his coffee cup and switches into teacher-mode “All right, I’ve got you. Believe it or not, I’ve had a few fuck buddies in my time, and here are the top three things you need to know.” He pops out a finger. “First of all, you’ve gotta be sure about what you want. Do you want to stay on this mega yacht and fuck the billionaire Raphael Visconti, yes or no?”
I don’t bother telling him his question is skewed for a biased answer. Instead, I glance at the blinking camera above the bar and nod tightly.
He grins. “Yeah, no shit. Okay, then second of all, you need to make sure you both understand it’s not serious.”
“What do you mean?”
“For about a year, I was sleeping with this girl three times a week. Then one night, I realized her toothbrush was in my bathroom—andnother spare.” He stares at me pointedly and rolls his eyes when he’s met with my blank expression. “Turns out I was her boyfriend and I didn’t even know it. My point is,communicate.You’ve got to be clear with your intentions from the beginning.” He smirks. “Give him your bitter monologue about love being a trap—he’ll get the hint pretty quickly.”
My laugh comes out easy. Suddenly, I realize the unease in my system doesn’t feel as venomous as it did before. “And the third?”
The grin melts from his face. He leans over and grips my arm. “The third, is to always remember that being friends with benefits can’t last forever. I’m sure the same is true for enemies with benefits, too. Don’t stay too long, all right?”
