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Great. Now what?
The silence swells against the walls of the study, dulled only by the footsteps of the ghost crew going about their duties. It’s growing darker now, and the only light from outside is the occasional sweep from Rafe’s men’s torches as they patrol the decks.
The worst part about this seclusion is that I’m stuck with it all night. There’s no way I’ll sleep before the sun comes up.
I manage to kill another ten minutes rifling through Rafe’s perfectly organized drawers and glaring at the photo frames lining his shelves. One of him passing someone an oversized check catches my eye, and I pick it up to study it.
His signature silhouette seeps out from behind the glass. Sharp suit, megawatt smile. Black, gold, green, all the colors so polished, sorefined,that no other word comes to mind. Perfect.
I knew the moment I met him he was the perfect liar.
A heady thought charges my nerves. Now that I’ve seen what’s underneath the gentlemanly exterior—felt it inside me; heard it in my ear—I’m hot with knowing I’ve had a glimpse of something no one else has.
Now, he’s the perfect liar, to everyone except me.
A slow-moving hum tears me away from his magnetic stare. Frowning, I glance over my shoulder toward the French doors, squinting when I notice a hazy light cutting through the rain.
He’s back already?
A Pavlovian response flickers in my clit, and I take the steps down to the lounge two at a time. Realizing I look like a puppy bounding around with excitement at his master returning home, I perch on the edge of the sofa with my back to the doors and turn on the television, staring at a basketball game with plastic interest.
My indifference lasts about ninety seconds before the French doors burst open and an icy chill brings in a bundle of chaotic energy with a familiar female voice at the heart of it.
“The party has arrived!” A blur of blond hair and bags rounds the sofa. My gaze slides up pajama-clad legs and lands on Rory’s bright grin. “I brought candy and card games, Tayce has pizza and wine, and Wren brought a movie.”
“Not justanymovie—Mamma Mia!, the extended karaoke version.” Wren appears and thrusts a well-worn DVD under my nose. I look up at her in surprise. She’s a whirlwind of pink, from the glittery scrunchie in her hair to the wellington boots her pajamas are tucked in to.
As Tayce flops down on the sofa and flashes me a sly grin, Rory’s attention flicks toward the door, then back to me. “Andyou,” she whispers, “will bring thegossip.”
“I—”
Rory cuts me off with a flap of her hand. “Not right now, though. My husband is on the warpath.”
As if the wordhusbandsummoned a demon, a dark presence heats the nape of my neck.
“Penelope Price.”
I swallow, tracking the black shadow as it shifts over the cream carpet. Shiny shoes come into view, and with a braced spine, I force myself to look up at their owner.
“Where’s my brother?”
“Which one?”
Angelo’s jaw ticks, and he rakes a look of displeasure over my wrist. “The one that likes to play games.” He takes a step forward, making my heart jolt. “Unlike me.”
I stare at him. The expression on his face is one from my memories. He glared at my father the same way all those years ago, when we gatecrashed his parents’ funeral. Now that I’m the subject of it, I’m not going to squeal like my drunken father did. Besides, I have this weird feeling of loyalty in my chest—I wouldn’t tell Angelo where his brother had gone, even if I knew.
“Rafe? Beats me.”
His eyes thin. “Then what are you doing here?”
My mind scatters in four directions for an answer. “Yacht sitting,” I announce.
Tayce snorts beside me, hiding her smirk in the collar of her leather jacket when Angelo cuts her a menacing look. The heat of it makes my resolve splinter, and I find myself muttering, “Sorry, I know as much as you.”
“And all Iknow is that Rafe called my wife and invited her to an impromptu sleepover in the middle of the fucking Pacific on a Monday night.”
“And you’re ruining the vibe, babe,” Rory groans, sliding in between me and her ever-advancing husband. She mutters sweet words while she plays with his shirt buttons, but I can’t hear them over the blood pounding in my ears.
