The sound of Hayden’s gentle breathing lets me know she’s drifted off to sleep.
This matchbox bedroom has the best orgasm voodoo of all time. We just had the best sex of my life.
I quietly throw some clothes on and sneak out of the bedroom. Everything is silent. We went out last night for a supposed quiet drink and ended up getting three hours’ sleep. Everyone is supposed to be unpacking, but my guess is they’re exhausted and catching up on some much-needed sleep before the shitstorm tonight.
And when I say shitstorm, I mean shitstorm.
I sneak up the stairs and out onto the deck. I look around. Where’s Captain Mark?
I walk to the front of the yacht and catch sight of him up in the captain’s chair. I practically run to the back of the yacht, and I scroll through the numbers on my phone.
Masters
I dial his number, and it rings.
“Miles.” He laughs as he answers. “What do you want?” he jokes.
“Listen, I’ve got a situation,” I whisper as my heart beats hard in my chest.
“What? Speak louder. Where are you?” He’s in a bar or something. I can hear people laughing out loud.
“I’m undercover.”
“What?”
“I took a year off, and under an alias I have been backpacking around the world.”
“What?” he explodes before bursting out laughing. “You . . . backpacking?” He laughs out loud again. “That’s fucking hilarious.”
“I’m traveling with a group of people who don’t know who I am, and we got a job on a yacht, and I just found out it’s your fucking yacht,” I blurt out in a rush.
“Bullshit,” he snaps.
“You can’t tell anyone who I am when you get here later.”
He laughs hard. “That is a situation.”
“Stop it,” I whisper angrily.
“Christopher Miles is being an undercover bellboy on my fucking yacht,” he tells someone.
“Get fucked.” I hear someone laugh.
I narrow my eyes. Spencer Jones. I’d know that voice anywhere.
Captain Mark begins to walk down the side of the yacht. He waves happily.
Fuck.
“I’ve got to go,” I stammer. “Not a fucking word. You don’t know me.”
“Wish I didn’t.” He’s laughing, and I hear him telling someone else about me.
I have no choice but to hang up on him.
Fuck.
“Enjoying the view?” Captain Mark smiles.
“Yes.” I fake a smile as I stuff my phone back in my pocket. I’m hot and flustered and damn it . . . stressed the fuck out.
“Did you get unpacked?” he asks.
“Yes, just had to make a quick phone call.”
“We’ll meet on the deck in an hour. I’ll hand out uniforms, and we can start the training.”
“Sounds great.” I fake a smile. Not really . . . sounds like a literal hell.
“See you then.” He walks back up the front of the yacht, and I turn and look out at the marina. I snap a photo and send it to Eddie.
Mykonos.
I wonder how my little buddy from Barcelona is doing. I’ll call him on Wednesday when this shit is all over . . . if I haven’t jumped overboard by then.