Chapter Fourteen
Mara
Full Sail
A girl could get used to this.
Sipping champagne on the deck of a luxury yacht, with the sparkling blue ocean at my back and the brilliant sun above my head. This is the life. But could it ever be mine? The picture is so perfect, as is the stunningly handsome man to my left. The one I’ve fallen for in spite of knowing better. Knowing that it’s all a fake. That he doesn’t actually love me.
But I’m afraid that I love him. And I don’t know what to do about it. I wish we could just stay on this boat forever, sail away where no one could reach us and live out my little fantasy aboard it. Dirk and Melinda sit across from us on a big, circular couch built into the upper deck of the boat. He’s laughing and pouring more champagne, wearing a peaked captain’s cap with an embroidered crest on it. As captain of this ship, he could maybe even marry us. Make it real.
Don’t be such a sap, Mara. That’ll never happen.
But I wish that it could. God help me, I do.
I gaze at Bastian, adoring his classically-handsome profile that looks chiseled from marble like a Renaissance work of art. I’ve come to know that face and that magnificent body as intimately as my own, and I want more. So much more. I know we have a business deal, but surely, it’s become bigger than that over the last six weeks? Surely, he’s changed, developed feelings for me, as I have for him. How could he not? We’re together all the time. He makes love to me like a man possessed; makes me feel desired and beautiful. I’ve done everything to please him, and enjoyed it; even some of the kinky stuff, which I’m embarrassed to admit. It turns me on. He turns me on.
Maybe if he just knew how I felt, if I came right out and told him, maybe... he feels the same about me. At least then, I’d know if I even have a chance at a real relationship; of winning his heart instead of just his bride-for-hire lottery.
“Dammit, this bottle’s empty,” Dirk says. “Where’s the bloody bartender? I need another drink. We all need another drink, don’t we, Baz?”
“I’m fine,” Bastian answers with a wave of his hand.
“I think you need something to eat, dear,” Melinda says with a patronizing smile, collecting the empty champagne bottle. “Let me go see what’s keeping lunch.” Clearly, she knows Dirk’s habits and his weakness for booze.
“You do that, sweet,” he chortles.
Just then, Bastian’s satellite phone goes off. He told me that once sufficiently offshore, there’d likely be no reliable cell service and was expecting an important call.
“Excuse me, folks. No rest for the wicked,” he says. He adds to me, aside. “I won’t be long.” His affectionate smile makes me weak and fluttery inside. How will I ever say goodbye to him? I smile back as he turns to retreat below deck.
Melinda exits for the galley, leaving me alone with Dirk. I sip my half-full glass of champagne to defray the awkward silence.
“Duty calls, doesn’t it, my dear?” he says, leaning back into the padded white vinyl with legs crossed and one arm outstretched across the edge of his seat. “That must be frustrating for you. In love with a man whose true love is his corporate profile. Happens more often than not.”
“I don’t mind,” I reply, feeling outed that he’d surmised my true feelings for Bastian. “He’ll be right back.”
“Oh, of that I’m sure, but this is fortuitous. I was hoping to speak to you alone a bit; get to know the only other woman whose stolen Baz’s heart. I knew his late wife, you know. We all met in college in Bordeaux.”
“After your Vienna days?” I ask.
“Quite right. But truly, I’m glad he’s been able to find love again after losing Celine. And I can see why he’s attracted to a beautiful girl like you. Celine was every bit as radiant.”
I nod to acknowledge his compliment. At least I think it’s a compliment. His glassy, pointed stare is beginning to creep me out. “He’s never mentioned her name. I only read about her in the news.”
“He’s never mentioned her?” he asks, more like a commentary than a question. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. He took it very hard. Couldn’t really come to terms with his grief for a long time; had to shield his son from it. But I see he’s over it now.” He folds up from his reclining position and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re a very understanding woman, Mara. To overlook Bastian Kingsley’s unsavory history and make such a deep commitment to him.”
The crystal champagne flute suddenly feels very cold in my hand. I set it down on a console between the padded seats of the couch.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask nervously, not enjoying this conversation or the direction it seems to be taking.
“Why, the Pretoria affair, of course. I was his business partner and co-investor in the enterprise. We both lost a lot the day that mine collapsed, but Baz more so. It can’t be easy living with the weight of sixteen deaths on his conscience. Including his wife’s.”
“I… that’s not true,” I say in immediate defense. I can’t believe what he’s saying. “The papers and magazines all say she died of a fever, from some unknown strain of virus in the jungle.”
Dirk shakes his hatted head, the cap looking almost comical on him now. But this situation is far from funny. “Of course they did. Your new fiancé was, and still is, a very influential man. He couldn’t allow the whole truth to come out, now could he? Bad enough the local workers’ blood was on his hands. All because he cut corners—awarded contracts to uncertified engineers out of Cape Town. All he cared about was money, not safety. Not his workers, his wife, or even me. It was my money and my future he was gambling with, too. And look what it cost us in the end. He was right to disappear, hide himself, his sorrow and his guilt in an isolated Provencal village. The media and the industry would have crucified him.”
The carbonated bubbles from my champagne are burning an acid trail back up from my stomach. I feel dizzy, lightheaded. Heartsick at this damning revelation.
“No. I don’t believe you,” I say, my voice a desperate whisper.
“Sweetheart, believe me. I was there. I ought to know. And I thought you should, too. So that you know exactly what you’re getting into.”
Hot tears are building behind my eyeballs, and I blink violently to stop them from forming and spilling out. I can’t even look at the man. This changes everything; my involvement with Bastian, our clandestine deal, maybe even my job. Could I work for a company that harbors the worst kind of dark, dirty secrets? I turn my head away, just as Bastian and Melinda arrive back on deck, an entourage of white-coated crew following behind with trays of food and drinks.
“Lunch is served,” Melinda says brightly.
Bastian returns to sit beside me, intertwining my cold, white-knuckled hand with his warm, tanned one.
“Great. I’m starved,” he says, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. The sexy scent of his cologne that once tickled my nostrils now taunts them, making me want to cry because it would now always remind me of the moment my fairy tale went bad. “What did you and old salty here talk about?”