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Captain is sitting in his chair, barking orders to the others. When he sees me, he wets his lips and I notice his eyes flicker a disapproving gaze to my midriff. Though he says nothing. I told him off when he brought it up the first time and he hasn’t said much about it since.
He finally speaks as I near him, “The ship needs supplies, fuel, food… clothing.”
I nod and slide onto his lap when he offers it to me. “And me?”
“I want you to sail with me to the island.”
I blink with shock because that was the very last thing I was expecting. In fact, it hadn’t even entered my mind. Still, I test his meaning. “You’re leaving me there?”
“No,” he assures me, gripping my hips. “I’m allowing you a break from the ship.”
My smile begins to grow until he adds, “There will of course, be rules. No speaking to anybody who isn’t the crew. In fact, don’t even go within a hundred yards of anybody if you’re not with me.”
And just like that, my freedom is gone. In a few short sentences he reminds me that he’s the captor and I’m the captive and my happiness this past week comes crashing down.
I bite back my anger and keep my face stoic as I test him further. “Where are we?”
He doesn’t reply, confirming the fact he doesn’t trust me or see me as anything more than his prisoner. Why does that disappoint me so much?
“What island is this?” I demand, standing from his lap. “What sea is this?”
“Rain,” he tries. “I thought you’d be happy.”
What am I doing? I’m ruining my one chance at getting my life back.
I turn back to him, my look not one of lust or tenderness. “I’m just really overwhelmed… with everything.”
He nods but doesn’t look appeased. “I understand.” Then as I’m walking away he asks, “You understand why I can’t tell you these details?”
I dip my head once, look him straight in the eyes and reply darkly, “Because I’m your prisoner.” Then I run, straight back to the hull, where I let tears of confusion streak down my cheeks as I stare at the island that stretches for miles.
Freedom is just a day away. I need to stop lying to myself about everything else.
For the first time since we started having sex, I pretend to sleep. Captain sighs, pulls away the blanket gently, rests his head on my middle and holds me like he usually does.
It doesn’t soothe me, if anything it makes me feel worse knowing I’ve fallen for his lies like an absolute idiot.
Well, not anymore.
Two can play at that game.
The crew bustle with excitement as the chosen few climb into the waiting rowboats and the crew that are being left behind lower them to the ocean, yelling their requests as people in the boats write their lists.
I’m escorted to the very back of the ship and down deep, to the level just above the surface of the water.
I squeal when a mechanical flap lowers with a loud hum and the room lights up, revealing a pristine white sailboat, big enough for two. It reminds me of the movie Moana except it’s likely made from metal and rubber, not wood.
“Shall we?” Captain asks, grinning and clipping the life jacket to my chest.
He kisses me when it is firmly on, taps my nose with his and helps me onto the rickety boat as the dropped level in which it rests hums to life and starts pushing it towards the ocean like a giant conveyer belt.
“Are there sharks?” I ask softly when he climbs on after me and stands at the sail.
“Probably.” He grins, shrugging. “But don’t worry, the only thing eating you tonight is me.”
With a handsome wink he jumps a little to get the boat that extra couple of inches to the water and as soon as we hit it I scream happily and grip the rope handles to stop myself from tipping out.
He yanks on the sail flap and tightens it. The wind catches it immediately and sends us to the right until he fixes it.
“Lean when I do, okay?” he shouts over the roar of the wind.
I watch him slide around the pole, pulling the sail the other way and I laugh as we tilt over the sparkling, clear blue ocean, heading towards the rowboats that are moving at a sluggish pace in comparison to the speed we are going.
After a little while I get the hang of leaning after nearly rolling in a few times much to his delight. But then we make it to the small docks and manoeuvre our way into a spot just big enough for our boat to squeeze.
A man with skin like cinnamon, hair as black as coal and eyes like roasted almonds greets us, helping to tie up the boat to stop it from floating away.
