“Hi.” He smiles. “Welcome.” He turns and walks down the dock, and we all follow. “You come with a very high recommendation,” he continues.
We all exchange glances. Nobody except me has even been on a yacht before.
Not that I can even admit to it.
“We’re very excited.” Hayden smiles as she tries to be friendly.
“Thank you so much for stepping up and helping. My entire crew has fallen ill and can’t work for another two weeks. We had charters booked all week, so you’ve saved the day.”
We all exchange looks again, and Hayden rolls her lips to hide her smile. This could be a real fucking disaster.
“There she is.” Captain Mark smiles. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
We all look up and stop still as the blood drains from our faces.
“Yes.” Everyone fakes a smile.
Oh no.
This isn’t a yacht; it’s a superyacht. Four stories high and at least 160 feet long. It’s black and sleek and . . . fuck.
How in the hell are we supposed to man this vessel? We have no fucking idea what we’re doing.
Oh . . . shit. I feel myself get hot under the collar.
OBSIDIAN.
That name . . . I frown. It’s familiar.
Obsidian . . . how do I know this yacht? I troll my mind for a memory of some sort.
“Is it always moored here?” I ask as I act casual.
“No, it’s usually in Monte Carlo.”
“Right.” I watch the Grand Prix from our yacht in Monte Carlo every year. Let’s hope it’s just from there.
Hayden’s scared eyes flick over to meet mine. “What the hell?” she whispers.
“It’s fine,” I mouth.
This is anything but fine. This is a living nightmare.
We walk across the bridge and onto the yacht, and over-the-top luxury hits us in the face.
A huge deck with a spa and plunge pool, an outdoor lounge area, bar—everything is the most beautiful wood and finished to perfection. I look around. Hmm . . . not bad.
We glance through the double doors into the inside. A huge luxurious living area with plush furnishings. An elevator and stairs going up and down are to the right, as well as a large corridor.
“Wow,” everyone whispers in awe as they look around.
“Come, and I’ll show you to the servants’ quarters belowdecks. We need to get ready. The owner is boarding tonight with a group of his friends.”
“Who owns this vessel?” I ask.
“Julian Masters,” he replies.
Fuck.
“Where’s he from?” I ask as I act dumb.
“The United Kingdom. Loaded, as you can tell. Old family money . . . but he’s a judge. He has his extended family from Australia over here for a bachelor party.”
The blood drains from my face. I know them. I know them all.
Julian Masters is one of my brother Jameson’s best friends. They went to boarding school together.
I’m totally fucked.
Chapter 19
“Put your bags down, and I’ll show you around,” Captain Mark says. He’s holding a clipboard under his arm. We do as he asks and follow him around the yacht. “On this level, you have the living area and formal dining, cinema, and two bathrooms.” Three huge white couches are around an apricot marble coffee table. The floors are all herringbone dark timber with big cream exotic rugs. Stunning art hangs on the walls.