Avery

Another day, another blue sky, another superyacht. As I reached the main deck of the Athena, carrying a glass of champagne and a glass of orange juice, I glanced across at the Saint Tropez marina in the distance and took a deep breath to calm myself. I was usually well rested for the first charter of the season, and May was usually a beautiful month in the Med, but I still carried the exhaustion of the previous season with me. On top of fatigue, the lack of information that we’d been given about the first eight-week charter meant I was unprepared for this guest and it made me more than nervous.

We arranged ourselves into the welcome line. Captain Moss first, me next to him, Eric the bosun, then Chef Neill and the rest of the crew, excluding the engineers who disappeared back to the engine room rather than meet our guest.

The tinny sound of the tender grew louder from behind us, and from the corner of my eye I caught my stewardess, August, craning her neck to look. “Eyes forward,” I said. I hated riding my crew’s ass. Some of the chief stewardesses I’d worked under enjoyed wielding their power, but that wasn’t me. I just wanted the job done, the guests delighted and the tips huge.

The sound of footsteps headed up the stairs toward us. I plastered on a smile, careful to keep the tray I was holding steady.

As our guest appeared, I drew in a breath. He was young—around thirty, no more than thirty-five—and handsome with dark brown hair and wide shoulders. This guy wasn’t anything like the normal charter guest. But then this was nothing like a normal charter. He was tall—well over six feet. Sharp cheekbones framed his face and led down to a perfectly smooth, square jaw. His eyes were dark and serious. If his nose hadn’t been a little crooked, as if it had been broken at some point in his past, I might have even described him as pretty, but the unevenness tipped him toward handsome. It suggested there was a little rough beneath the oh-so-smooth.

I swallowed. I’d never found a guest attractive before. Not even a little bit. But then again, we never had charter guests who looked like this guy. When I first got into yachting, I’d expected to be surrounded by rich, beautiful people all the time. And while there was plenty of wealth, the attractive guests tended to be women. Although I was pretty flexible about a lot of stuff, I was strictly dickly when it came to my fantasies.

He strode toward Captain Moss and they shook hands. “Good to meet you,” the man said in a deep, gravelly voice that seemed to make my whole body vibrate.

“Good to have you on board,” Captain Moss replied.

“I’m Hayden Wolf,” he said, turning to pin me with a stare so intense it was as if he were getting some sort of psychic reading. “Avery, right?”

How did he know my name? Maybe the background check had given him a photograph. And the way he said it—my name shouldn’t sound that different in a British accent, but the way he enunciated every syllable, coupled with the deep timbre, somehow made it sound important. “Yes, sir,” I replied.

He nodded and smiled. My nipples tightened. Fuck. Thank God I was wearing a t-shirt bra.

The first rule in yachting was never cross the line between personal and professional. Some crew found it difficult, especially when the guests were laid back and wanted the staff to join in the fun. Sometimes the lines got blurred, but never for me—it was the easiest way to get fired. I’d never seen a guest as anything other than the person responsible for my tip and the reason why I could send money home to my family.

But Hayden Wolf?

There was something about him that erased the line completely, and all of a sudden I was imagining him naked and sweaty. Shut it down, I told myself.

“May I offer you a glass of champagne or orange juice?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

My heart, which had been skipping in my chest, suddenly sank to the floor.

Please God, tell me he drinks.

A sober charter guest was the worst. I’d take someone who demanded all his sheets flown over from Italy and his whiskey from a distillery in the remote islands of Scotland over a guest who didn’t drink.

“You’ve disabled the Wi-Fi?” Hayden turned to ask Captain Moss.

“As you requested,” Captain Moss confirmed.

The Wi-Fi was disabled? Usually it was the other way around. Guests were always asking for a better connection, failing to understand that when you were afloat, there were things beyond our control—like the freaking ocean.

“Okay, I’m going to need everyone’s mobile devices,” Hayden announced. “Phones, tablets, laptops.”

No one moved and I glanced across at Captain Moss, but he wore his normal impassive expression. Were they being checked for something?

“You heard our guest,” Moss said. “We’ll be waiting.”

We all filed back inside the yacht and headed to our sleeping quarters, where the few personal things we had on board were kept. We were unusually silent as we collected our devices, unclear on why our guest was demanding our personal things.

“Is this everything?” Hayden asked as Chef Neill, the last person to emerge, placed his computer and phone on the teak table that would be later set for lunch.

“It’s vital to me that nothing leaves this boat. No pictures, no phone calls, no emails, nothing,” Hayden said.

Privacy was rule number two in yachting. We all knew how to be discreet. No one on a yacht gossiped about their guests outside of the yacht. Well, that wasn’t true. We all gossiped about the guests, but we never mentioned names. We never attributed the outrageous stories that we collected during our careers.

“I understand that it might be a challenge, so as an additional layer of security, you won’t have access to your communication devices during my stay,” Hayden said.

The entire charter without our phones or laptops? He had to be kidding. August gasped beside me, and I fisted my hands, trying to keep the smile on my face.

“Nothing for eight weeks,” the captain confirmed, and I could tell the entire crew were desperate to complain but no one would want to embarrass Captain Moss.

The third rule of yachting was the guest gets what the guest wants. I was used to outlandish requests, but no phone or internet for eight weeks wasn’t just inconvenient. If I’d known this before the charter started, I probably wouldn’t have said yes.

“Please, may I clarify?” I asked. Ordinarily I sucked up everything a guest asked for—went above and beyond what they’d hoped for—but I couldn’t hold back. “We’re not going to be able to contact our family for two months? Some of us have personal situations—”

“Not from this yacht,” Hayden snapped. “I have very few requests, but my need for absolute privacy and discretion is paramount. There are no discussions or negotiations about this. You can contact people from the shore, but if you don’t like it, then you will need to find a different yacht to work on.”

It was as if I’d been thrown against a wall by the force and intensity of his words. The jerk hadn’t even let me finish my sentence. I’d dealt with unreasonable guests in my time, but normally I could separate the job from the real me and I didn’t care less. I wanted to explode and yell that there was no way I could be without any way of contacting my dad for two months, but I knew I should be setting an example to my two interior crew members, Skylar and August. I had to stay calm and then figure out what the hell I was going to do.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Hayden said as if he’d asked us not to chew gum or wear pink for the next eight weeks. What a way to start a season.

“Avery will give you the tour,” Captain Moss said.

I smiled, trying to focus on something other than Mr. Wolf’s almost-perfect face and how I wanted to kiss it and slap it in equal measure. I knew there must be a catch to being that handsome—he was clearly totally paranoid and an asshole. But I was a problem solver. Maybe I could change his mind.

I handed my tray to Skylar, my second stew. “Let me show you to the main salon first. If you’ll slip off your shoes?” I asked, pausing at the automatic sliding doors and indicating a shallow basket by the door that I’d left out specifically for shoes.

“Really?”

I nodded. “I’m afraid so. Yacht decks are traditionally unvarnished to keep the color natural, so shoes are likely to damage the teak. Every yacht’s the same.”

He glanced at my stockinged feet, then bent and untied his shoelaces. I glanced over his broad back. Who wore a suit to the start of a vacation? I needed to know more about this guy than that he was good looking, British and so suspicious. “How was your journey?” I asked. Perhaps he’d relax and in a couple of days we’d have our phones back. I didn’t want to have to walk away from this beautiful yacht and the increase in pay, but I had to be in contact with my father. I’d figure it out. I’d have to.

“Fine,” he replied, rising from where he crouched, and picked up his briefcase that he’d set down.

I reached for it. “Can I take that for you?”

His knuckles turned white as he tightened his fist around the handle. “That’s fine. I have it.”

His clipped tone indicated whatever was in the briefcase was important. I just hoped for all our sakes it wasn’t drugs. Yachting had a zero-tolerance policy for drug use. If even a trace of illegal drugs were found on board, a captain would be stripped of his license with no second chances. If Hayden Wolf had drugs in that briefcase, Captain Moss would cancel this charter, and we’d all be guestless and without a tip for the next eight weeks.

I glanced up as he towered above me. Despite him kicking off this charter with an entirely unreasonable demand, being this close to him made me slightly giddy, which wasn’t an adjective anyone had ever used to describe me. I was focused and diligent according to most, funny and loyal if you asked my family. But I was never giddy. Shut it down, shut it down, I chanted in my head.

“This is the main salon. We have a selection of games here,” I said, pointing to the chessboard and the card table. Not that he’d be able to play the games by himself.

He slid his free hand into his pocket. “Chess.”

I paused, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t so we walked the length of the main salon.

The Athena was a beautiful yacht, just as Captain Moss had promised: simple lines, elegant and light. The whole interior looked like a Hampton’s summer house—clean, crisp and fresh in white, creams and grays. All the furniture had a high-end feel without being over the top. Sometimes yacht interiors could be a little gaudy, but if I had a yacht, I would choose something like the Athena’s decoration; it was all understated luxury.

Hayden Wolf made no comment about the decoration.

“We can make up any cocktail you like,” I said, indicating the bar in the corner. “Do you have a favorite?”

He shook his head. “Whiskey sometimes.”

We had some good whiskies on board, and I was relieved to hear he drank. Hopefully we could interest him in a tasting. “Do you have a favorite that I might be able to track down?”

He scanned the windows, looking out at the horizon. “No. Whatever you have on hand will be fine.”

“And with your meals, Neill is an excellent chef. He’d love to make you what you like. Are you a steak man?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Fish?” I suggested.

“I’m not fussy.”

I smiled while holding myself back from calling him a liar. There was no such thing as an unfussy billionaire. I managed to say nothing and led us toward the stairwell. “We have four floors of guest accommodation, bedrooms are at the bottom, so let’s start with the top floor, just above us.”

The reflection from the water was almost blinding as we opened the door and stepped outside onto the upper deck. “It’s really just the hot tub up here. You can get a little bit of shade as well,” I said, indicating the two loungers while avoiding looking at Hayden. As a chief stewardess, I made it my business not to show my emotions and this man wouldn’t change that. “Most guests like to use the loungers on the main deck. There’s also space at the front of the boat at this level for sunbathing as well.” I pointed toward the route to the beds at the top of the boat. I bet he had strong thighs and a hard chest under that suit. Not that I would be looking. “You’ll figure out which you prefer.”

I snuck a glance when he didn’t respond. He just pursed his lips and nodded. It wasn’t that he was impolite, he just seemed a little uninterested, as if relaxation would be superfluous to him over the next eight weeks.

“Okay then, let’s head to the second lounge and dining room.” I led the way down two floors. “This is where you’ll eat if it’s too windy outside,” I said as we reached the living-dining space. I shrugged. “Or if you want a change, the main salon is bigger, but here there’s a television and some people think it’s a little cozier.”

He chuckled, and I snapped my head around in case I’d misheard, but I hadn’t. He was laughing. It was good to know he could and it suited him. Made him look younger and less serious.

“I don’t think there’s much about this boat that’s going to make me feel cozy,” he said.

He had a point. He was going to rattle around the place. “Are you planning on having any guests? We’d be happy to accommodate additional people.”

His smile disappeared. “No.”

I’d clearly touched a nerve. I just didn’t understand why. I hadn’t asked anything controversial. Getting this guy to talk was impossible. “Okay, let’s head to the bedroom level.”

At the bottom of the stairs, I paused. The space down here was tighter than elsewhere on the boat and there were no windows in the square hallway. He and I were alone in this darkened, small space, just inches between us, and the atmosphere seemed to shift slightly. He sucked in a breath, and I found myself staring at his expanding chest. I glanced up and caught his eye. Shit. “Of course you have six cabins for you to use.” Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.

“And they’re all secured?” he asked.

“Yes, privacy is a key feature.” I made my way into the second guest bedroom. As Captain Moss had indicated this would be a working vacation, I’d arranged to have all the regular furniture removed and replaced it with a large, white modern desk, a desk chair, two easy chairs and an additional office chair. “I thought it might be useful for you to have this room to work. If you need anything else, just let me know. I wasn’t quite sure what you’d want.”

“That’s helpful,” he said, glancing around. “And you have the keys?”

I pulled a key ring out of my pocket and passed it over.

“Thank you.” He offered me the palm of his large hand and I caught an earthy, masculine scent. The outside of him—the suit, the hair, even his walk—was smooth, but the way he was so guarded in what he said, so private and measured . I couldn’t help but feel there were things below the surface I wanted to know.

I dropped the keys into his hand, careful not to touch him, and he clenched his fist tight.

“I don’t want other crew members down here, and no one else has keys to the rooms except me, right?”

I nodded and turned to head out, not wanting to meet his eye. I had another set of keys nestling on my key ring. The captain had mentioned that Hayden wanted to be the only one with keys but there was no way that was going to happen. Moss had instructed me to keep a set. I hated to lie, but I did what the captain told me to do.

“The master suite is next door. I presume that’s where you’ll want to sleep, but obviously you can choose any of the other four bedrooms.” I opened the door of the master bedroom. “Let me show you.” It was my favorite room aboard the Athena. It was luxurious but felt really fresh with crisp, white linens, a silver-gray carpet and velvet headboard, not to mention the freestanding tub for two and shower that could fit four. It was the kind of room I’d like to disappear into with a lover or my husband for a romantic week away if I were chartering a yacht or if I was a guest of someone like Hayden Wolf.

But I wasn’t chartering this yacht and I wasn’t anyone’s guest. I was the help. A maid and a waitress.

“Shall I unpack for you?” Eric had already placed Mr. Wolf’s bags on the luggage racks.

He frowned. “I can unpack my own suitcases,” he replied, as if me offering to do it for him was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard.

“Whatever you prefer. The closet space is here. If you need anything ironed, just let me or one of the other interior crew know.” I didn’t feel as if I were doing enough.

“You normally unpack for guests?” he asked as he unzipped his first case.

“Absolutely,” I replied. “It would be my pleasure.” Surely he was used to that kind of service. Even if he’d not been on a yacht before, he must have stayed at the best hotels. And he was British. Didn’t rich, British people have butlers and shit?

He turned to me and blinked, his long eyelashes sweeping down and up. “Your pleasure?” The corners of his mouth twitched, and his gravelly tone sent a wave of goose bumps across my skin.

I nodded, trying to keep my breathing even. “Absolutely. I want you to enjoy your stay.”

He gave a half chuckle. “I can manage, but thank you.”

Was he laughing at me? I ignored his amusement. “Chef Neill is preparing lunch for you. Can I get you a drink in the meantime?”

“I have a call to make. Then I’ll come up and find you.”

“You can press the buzzer by your bed and—”

“You’ll appear in a puff of smoke like my fairy godmother?” He raised his eyebrows.

I started to reply, but before I got my words out he clasped my shoulder with his large hand. “Thank you. I’m fine. I’m going to make my call.”

I tried to keep my voice at a normal pitch. “I’ll leave you to it.” I slipped out of his room and paused at the bottom of the stairs. My shoulder was still hot where he’d touched me, and I placed my palm over my shirt, trying to retain the feel of his hand. I couldn’t figure this guy out. He was incredibly handsome but here alone. Clearly wealthy but didn’t seem to be used to being waited on. And worse, he seemed to find my desire to help him amusing.

He might think my job was worthless, and maybe it was compared to whatever he did, but I’d show him how great service could make his life so much easier. This trip might be all business for him, but I knew I could make him enjoy it just a little more than he’d expected to.