The finality of his words guts me. There is a physical ache in my chest. Bile bubbles up, threatening to make me vomit. This hurts too badly, and I’m paralyzed to this spot. Somehow, I know I will never be the same again. I anticipated that things would eventually run its course, but not like this.
“Goodbye, Brennan. I wish you well.” He turns to leave the way he came, and as soon as the door closes, I throw the only thing in my reach. My phone. My last connection to him. It shatters against my cabin door in splintering pieces. He can just deduct it from my check.
I don’t know how long I lie on the floor before there is another knock on my door. All concept of time escapes me. Just like the last time, I don’t answer. The sun is no longer filtering through the curtains I left open. That’s my only hint that it’s now nighttime. The sound of a key card being entered beeps again, and I intentionally peek up, incorrectly assuming it’s Silas. Wrong. It’s the other Lair—the cousin.
“Brennan?” Kassius whispers into the dark. Maybe if I don’t answer, he will go away. No such luck. He flicks on the light, and my eyes work to adjust.
“Ah, hell, Bren!” He stomps toward me, and I can’t cower away fast enough before he has me picked up and placed on my bed. I swat at him like a wild cat backed into a corner. He just lets me hit him, not once restraining my arms. He holds me by the waist and lets me exhaust my frustrations.
“I hate you,” I cry. “I hate all you.” Especially all the fucking tears I’ve shed today, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of that info.
“Get it all out. Hit me. Do whatever you need to do. Then we will talk.”
What fucking nerve! “I’m not talking to you, jackass. I don’t have anything to say to you or your traitor maid-collecting cousin,” I curse.
His absence of the gay air fuels my anger. It’s as if a complete stranger is in this room with me—or might as well be. I can’t believe I could be so wrong about not only one but two people. I let my guard down. He encouraged me to give Silas a chance, for fuck’s sake. Is this their thing? Tag team the stupid housekeepers.
I can no longer keep the bile down; it’s no longer just an urge. I tear away from Kassius and run to the toilet with only seconds to spare. I end up dry heaving because my stomach is empty since I missed dinner.
Kassius comes in behind me, takes a washcloth from the towel rack, and wets it. I brace the porcelain, exhausted. I have no fight left in me to push him away as he pats my face with the cool towel.
“I’m still not talking to you,” I manage to get out between heaves.
“Well, you can listen then because I’m not leaving until you hear everything I have to say. After that, if you still choose to hate me, I will respect that.”
It’s pointless to argue. I can see the conviction in his narrowed eyes. I will let him talk, and then I will kick him out. I have two days to determine what the hell I’m going to do with my life.
Kneeling here and dry heaving over the toilet brings about Deja vu. Not too long ago, Silas was here while I was sick. Even with my head almost in the toilet, I can’t erase the memory of the despair I heard in his voice as he left. I’m trying not to care, but I’m failing miserably. I only half believe all those nasty things I threw at him. I just wanted to hurt him with my words … give him a taste of what I was feeling. I didn’t feel used when I was with him, but I’m not sure how much of what I felt was an illusion orchestrated by a master player.
When it is obvious that I have nothing to come up, Kassius wipes my face and helps me to my feet. I pull away from him, and he pulls back. He wants to help me to my room. Fine. I sit on my bed, and he sits on the empty one opposite of me.
“I’ll start from the beginning,” he announces when he is satisfied he has my attention.
“After our brief meeting before the guests arrived, Silas asked me to stay behind for a special task. He told me that he had hired a new housekeeper because Atticus asked for a favor for a friend. All his employees were investigated and well vetted before being hired, but he didn’t have time to do that with you. The request from Atticus’s friend was sudden, and the cruise was leaving before he could get proper intel on you. He is very protective of his business. I won’t get into specifics, but there are people who would love to see him fail—to bring down his entities.”
“I signed his NDA,” I point out.
“That’s nowhere near enough. Anyone can sign a piece of paper. The trick is to ensure that the person signing is reliable and trustworthy enough to adhere to what is being signed.”
“So what does all this have to do with you? Why did you lie to me?”
“Someone from the aft leaked aspects of The Playboy’s Lair. They didn’t have access to our proprietary info, but it was enough for Silas to get wind of a copycat in the BDSM community. They tried to start their own cruise, similar to ours, but it tanked because their idea didn’t hold the connections and prestige of ours. We could not decipher who the guilty person was, and our best guess was that it wasn’t an individual effort. Four of us co-own The Playboy’s Lair. As partners, we mutually decided to let go of the entire group of employees. That is why Silas needed seven volunteers from his remaining staff to work the aft—why he needed to have an initial eye on you. Someone got to one of his original staff members, who then potentially poisoned more employees to be a part of their plan to steal his ideas. He needed to be sure about you.”
“So innocent people lost their jobs in the process?” I told myself that I wouldn’t speak, that I’d let him explain himself so he could leave, but now he’s caught me off guard with what he’s shared. I feel horrible for those people who didn’t have a hand in betraying Silas, but it gives me insight into his reasons for having me investigated.
“Casualities of war, I’m afraid.”
“That’s so sad. One question. Why did you pretend to be my friend … and gay?”
“I wasn’t pretending with the friend part, Brennan. I only gave you a fake name because I had to. I’ve hosted experiences on this cruise. The volunteer employees who were brought over to the aft on our floor knew who I was. We had to keep my identity exclusive to those two, Ben and Jacob. Do you know how hard it was to avoid any staff who would recognize me?”
He comes over to sit on the bed next to me. “You were a breath of fresh air, Brennan. Although I had to create a persona, our interactions were real. You needed a girlfriend, not some macho guy trying to befriend you. I knew you would never let me in as myself so I gave you an alternate version you could relate to—a gay guy. The persona and his background I created was the only thing I faked. The way I feel about you is real. You’re the sweetest, most genuine person I’ve met in a long time. I knew the minute Silas begin to fall for you. When he found out about our friendship, he encouraged me to tell you, but we wanted to do it together. He needed to explain why I was originally put in your path. He wanted to talk to you about something very important first, and now I don’t know if it will ever happen.”
“What did he want to tell me?” My curiosity is piqued.
“That will have to come from him. Silas really is a good guy. He is very protective of his heart, careful not to let people in, but if you’re fortunate enough to be allowed in, he loves hard.”
“I said some very mean things when he came by earlier,” I admit.
Now that the anger is wearing off, I’m filled with regret. I don’t know if any of what those women said was true. All I have to go by is how special he made me feel.
“Trust me, I know. I’ve never seen my cousin look so distraught. You had the ability to wreck him, and you did just that. He wouldn’t tell me what you said, but he told me that you’d be departing when we get to the Barbados port.” Kassius untangles my fingers and lifts my chin. “Hear him out, Bren. Don’t leave without giving him a chance to express himself. I’ll let you be. I don’t expect to mend things with you overnight, but I hope we can rebuild our friendship.”
I don’t reply. I can’t give him an answer right now. Chance are, I will never see him again anyway. He leaves, and I’m left alone with my thoughts.
I need to return Silas’s camera to him. This is my rationale for now heading to his room. I simply can’t put it off. Just my luck, his level is open from the indoor pool area still. I climb the stairs quickly, blocking any logic that tells me not to do this. I’m mere steps from the fire pit when I see them sitting there. He’s with Jasper. She looks relaxed with a glass of red wine in her hand and legs crossed on the sofa. Silas is sitting next to her. He sits up straighter when he sees me, but it’s obvious I’ve interrupted whatever the hell they’re discussing. It’s definitely not arguing, like earlier. I stand there tongue-tied, embarrassed.
“Is there something I can help you with, Brennan?”
The absence of his terms of endearment for me doesn’t go unnoticed. Received and noted. His blue eyes are cold. I don’t know this Silas.
“Just wanted to bring back your camera. Thank you for loaning it to me. I’ll let you two …”
I don’t even attempt to finish that sentence. My heart crumbles at the word “two” as the possibility of them rekindling their past becomes more than a likely scenario. I place the camera bag at my feet, where I stand, and run away as fast as my legs will carry me. Only I can’t go back to my room. It’s the place where he first cuddled with me, the place I started to have feelings for him. Now he’s already back with her. I get the sickening feeling in my gut because it’s always been her. We were the substitutes, just like she said.
I don’t even know why I bothered. I pushed him away without listening to his side, but from the looks of his coziness with her, he is just fine. Maybe we did have a spark, but now we’ll never know. I do believe things happen the way they’re meant to. Realizing I can’t avoid my room forever, I head there instead of walking around the yacht like a lost soul. I need to find a place to go, but I don’t have a computer, and I smashed my phone. That was a really smart move on my part.
I shower, crawl into bed, and turn on some I Love Lucy reruns. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. Fuck love. I have more important things to worry about like not ending up homeless. I will worry about my future tomorrow as I’m sure it will still be just as bleak. I fall asleep to the shenanigans of Lucy and Ethel.