CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The interior of the large yacht was mainly dark, glistening wood, with a scattering of fine leather furnishings. Aidan took me up the stairs to a living room area. Decked with cane furniture and white leather cushions, it was very opulent. There was a stocked bar. In an adjacent room, I saw a well-equipped kitchen, and to the other side a glassed-off deck for cooler weather.
I fell into the comfortable leather cushion of the outer exposed deck. Surrounded by nothing but the sky and deep-teal sea, it was like heaven.
Aidan brought back a bowl of water and placed it on the ground for Rocket, who slurped the lot, making a mess of the polished floorboards. He then went into the fridge and brought out a large bone. The eager dog took it in his mouth and hid in a corner to munch in private.
While my boss busied himself at the bar, I stretched my arms out, giving into the pleasant sensation of being surrounded by nothing but sky and sea.
“I’ve got some chilled Pinot Grigio.” He held the wine up.
I nodded. “Thanks. That would be great.” My, did I need a drink. I didn’t recognize that wine. But being an any-wine-will-do sort of girl, I was sure it would be heavenly. Just like the man balancing the bottle in his hand.
The gentle swaying of the craft was so relaxing that I almost lost all the tightness in my body. With a horizon filled with nothing but rippling variegated oceanic blues, and a sky promising a sunset to die for, I was floating in paradise.
Predictably, the wine was crisp, cold, and complex in flavor, as only fine wine could be. I had to remind myself to sip for it didn’t take me much to get drunk. Nevertheless, I needed it around my captivating boss, who had settled over at the seat on the other side. His long legs stretched out in front of him. He was earthier than I would have expected for someone so super rich.
“Have you traveled very far in this?” I asked.
“Not that far, only around the West Coast.”
I walked over to the barrier and stared down into the deep water. “Seeing the world in this would be amazing. Has it got many bedrooms?”
“How many would you need?” A mischievous glow came to his eyes.
My face reddened. “No, I didn’t mean it that way...”
“Just playing with you. Come,” he said, leading the way with his arm. “I’ll show you around if you like.”
I followed along like a child at a theme park. He showed me the kitchen and dining area, which reminded me of an intimate restaurant. Decked out in dark wood and rich burgundy velvet, it had a classic design. There were stained-glass Tiffany lamps and panoramic windows.
“It’s the size of a house,” I exclaimed.
“This is an average size for a motor yacht. Some are like mansions. In any case, this is adequate for me. I rarely entertain.”
“Will you travel the world in it?” I asked, walking up the stairs to the outer deck.
“I’d like to one day, when I meet the right travelling partner.” His gaze lingered.
Hmm.
Aidan pointed. “Here we have the upper deck as you can see.”
My eyes did a quick sweep. There was more cane furniture and another bar. In the corner stood a Jacuzzi and deck chairs, upon which I visualized lazing about with a book.
We went down the stairs to the main living area and bedrooms. “This is bigger than my apartment,” I said, my jaw dropping at the sheer size of the bedroom. Oil paintings of nudes filled the walls. The women were all brunettes, which I thought was interesting. Not a blonde in sight. Aidan watched as I walked from one to another.
“All modern painters?” I asked, unable to recognize any of the artists’ names.
“Yes, twentieth century. I have a thing for the nude,” he said, lifting a brow. “I hope that’s not too sleazy.”
My focus remained on the paintings. I chose my preferred: a long-haired woman against an oriental backdrop. I shook my head. “They’re sensual and far from tacky. Appropriate for a boudoir,” I said, studying the brush strokes, “and well done. All of them.”
Aidan, meanwhile, held onto his elbow and balanced his chin in his hand. His eyes shone with the admiration he had whenever I spoke of art.
I fell into his eyes. Time stood still. I wasn’t sure how long we remained that way. Redirecting my focus to more material matters, as difficult as that was, I said, “It has such a relaxing ambience.” I stroked the lush velvet cushions and silk drapes.
“Doesn’t it? I loved it at first sight. Earlier, you mentioned the word boudoir. I bought the yacht from a French family. It came furnished, except for the paintings, which are from my collection. The original owner made his money from wine. When he died, he left his offspring with debt, so I became the proud owner of the boat.”
“Has it got a name?”
“It has,” he said, looking boyish.
“May I ask what it’s called?” I asked as we entered the top deck again.
“Scorpio,” he said, grabbing wine from the fridge. “Can I offer you more?”
“Yes, please. Are you a Scorpio?” I wasn’t a follower of astrology, but Tabitha was crazy about it. And knowing her, she’d be asking for Aidan’s birthdate and study his chart.
“I am,” he said, filling my glass.
He stood at the edge, glancing over at the horizon. The sun was starting its fiery descent towards the darkened sea. “Are you into astrology?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
I shook my head. “I’m not, but my friend Tabitha is. She’s told me a little about my sign.”
“What are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m a Pisces.”
“You seem to love the water,” he said, sitting across from me again.
“I do. The little I’ve read seems accurate I must admit.” I shifted my weight. “And are you true to your sign?”
His deep-blue eyes impaled me. “I’m apparently meant to be powerful, jealous, possessive, dangerous…”
“Whoa… that’s intense. Is that accurate?”
“Perhaps. I can be a prick when pushed.” Aidan’s eyes softened. “I hope you don’t mind me being coarse.”
“Of course not, you’re the boss. You can say whatever you like.” I giggled.
“I’m not your boss now. We’re equals. I hope you realize that.” Aidan had become serious again.
My mouth opened, and I was about to respond when my phone buzzed. The Marseillaise pierced the air. I rummaged through my bag. “I’m so sorry,” I said, going red. Noticing it was Tabitha calling I turned my phone off.
Aidan chuckled. “Mm, that reminds me of Bastille Day celebrations in Nice, five years ago.”
“Oh, you’ve been to France. I’m envious,” I gushed.
“I remember reading in your application that you wished to go to Paris.”
“I love most things French, from a historical perspective, that is—the literature, art, everything.”
“There’s much to love about France. I admired it. But then I loved Italy and Spain too.” Aidan ambled off, my eyes drinking in his masculine agility.
He returned wearing a blue worn-out T-shirt. Blue was definitely his color with those air-robbing blue eyes of his.
“Have you traveled the world?” I asked.
“Only Europe— nowhere else. I spent a year traveling around.” He combed back his thick, light-brown hair with his hands. “I was never the same after that trip. It nourished me.”
“You mean through culture and knowledge?”
“Most definitely,” Aidan said. “I found it healing. After Afghanistan, my world view was pessimistic if not narrow.” He drew a tight line with his lips. “It wasn’t until I visited places like Paris, Madrid, and Rome that I learnt that the true power of human endeavor was not through weaponry and brutality but intellect and creativity.”
Well said!
“But they had both, didn’t they?” I said.
Aidan, whose focus was out to sea, regarded me. “What do you mean?” His brow creased.
“Europe’s history is covered in blood, especially ancient Rome. Their war strategies were adopted by Bonaparte and beyond. Art and intellect developed against a backdrop of brutality. They coexisted.”
“That’s true. But we’ve come a long way. When one reflects back, it’s art and sheer human ingenuity that stand out. Not the crazed cruelty of war. With the benefit of hindsight, all one can do is question why so many people had to die, you know? What was the cause? In America it was the constitution, but Vietnam, Iraq—what was that about?”
“I’ve had these conversations with my father again and again. We always arrive at the same conclusion: humankind is both creative and destructive.”
Aidan nodded with a wistful glint. “That they are.”
“Afghanistan must’ve been harsh. I imagine you were young,” I said.
He nodded slowly, his eyes remote.
“I can’t express the sadness I feel for the plight of soldiers.”
“It’s not a subject I enjoy. But I try to help out where I can.”
“I was so moved by the health center. I told my father about it. He was as taken by your benevolence as I am.”
“It’s not that much, really. I’m very wealthy,” he said without affectation.
“I disagree. It’s substantial what you do. Some of my father’s friends, including my uncle, fought in Vietnam.”
“He’s that age group, isn’t he? I’d like to meet him,” said Aidan. Our gaze lingered again. The wine and the conversation had relaxed me. I could’ve sat there forever. “Greta mentioned she met him. She liked him. And that’s saying something. My aunt’s one tough operator.” He chuckled.
“I’ve noticed. I like her, though. Her heart’s in the right place. My father loved the little he saw of the estate. He adored the cottage, as do I.” I peered up and gave him a little smile.
“That pleases me to no end. I want you to feel at home and comfortable.” Aidan stretched his powerful arms. “You’ll have to invite him over. He can stay for as long as he likes. We have lots of vacant rooms in the house. And there’s the library. He’s more than welcome to hang out there. In fact, I need someone to catalogue the books. That’s if he’s interested in a job.”
“Oh, really?” I shook my head in disbelief. “It would be a labor of love for my father.”
“The offer’s there. I will insist on paying him. He’s a man of learning. I respect that. I have a high regard for educated folk. You, Clarissa Moone, included.” Aidan stood up. I was about to comment, but he disappeared.
I headed to the barrier to catch the sun sinking into the sea. A red-and-orange streak of color rippled along a path in the dark-green water.
Aidan returned. “I called Will. He’s on his way now. Dinner shouldn’t take too long.” He held a bottle of wine. “Another?”
“Why not,” I said with a smile. “I’m a little tipsy. I’ll have to be careful.”
“I like you tipsy. You’re easier to chat with. I can see you’re shy.” He pulled an irresistible half-smile. “Mind you, I do like women who are sensitive. Not like the society girls there last night.”
“They were all very beautiful,” I said.
Aidan scrunched his nose. “Only if one’s into confected beauty.” He stood by my side, taking a strand of hair that had come loose from my knotted bun and tucked it behind my ear. Aidan’s touch sent heat racing up the side of my neck. “I like natural beauty. I’m also very fond of long dark hair and big brown eyes.” His eyes had darkened.
Words remained stuck at the back of my throat.
His lustful glint intensified. “Do you have Southern European in your family?”
I swallowed. “Umm…my grandmother—my late mother’s mother—was Spanish. I take after her, I imagine.”
He stood so close that his legs brushed against mine. My nipples, erect and crying for his lips, gave my arousal away.
The sound of a boat arriving stopped us. I had even licked my lips in readiness. Aidan’s eyes lingering on them reflected the same urge.
I broke away first. “We have a visitor.”
“Yes, it’s Will,” he said, not hiding his disappointment. “I tell you what.” He contemplated for a moment. “Let’s do this. I’ll get him to unload the food and to take Rocket back. Then I can do the rest. That way, he doesn’t hang around. Are you okay with that?”
I returned a slow nod. “That’s so considerate. I’d also like it if he didn’t see me. Do you mind if I hide?”
He gestured with his finger for me to follow him. “He’s discreet. But I do understand. I’m also very private. I respect your need for it.” Aidan’s voice was so deep and suggestive. It was him I wanted to eat, not food.
“There are refreshments in the fridge. You can play music. There’s plenty of reading material. We won’t be long. I’ll see to it,” Aidan said with a smile that robbed me of air. He touched my cheek. “Hey, I’m so glad you decided to join me.”
“I’m glad you asked me.” Channeling the tipsy coquette, I gave as good as I got, returning his stare with heavy eyelids and a slight curl of my lips.