DANNY
There's an urgent knock at the door. There are either two people outside, or it’s the same person using both fists to beat on the door.
My eyes are half-open, and I really don’t feel like getting out of bed. Not only because Lenka tired me out, but because I have my arms wrapped around her. I feel so protective of her, and I don’t even know why. This is crazy. I hired her to pretend to be my fiancée, not fuck her all over this suite.
It’s clear what we’ve been up to. The room is in disarray. Our clothes are strewn all over the place. I grin as I look at the table next to the ocean view. Just a few hours ago, I was fucking Lenka on it. She cried out, her head tilted back while I pounded between her legs. Her throat was silky smooth beneath my lips, the view of the ocean behind us adding to the romantic ambiance.
My thoughts are disturbed by the constant thumping on the door. I stand up and shout, “Coming!”
I gently pry Lenka off of me. She purrs as she starts hugging the pillow instead. I smile as I watch her hike her leg up over it. I tap the screen of my phone to illuminate it, and I can’t believe the time. It’s nearly two in the afternoon. Fuck. Not only did we miss breakfast, but lunch too. We must be the only one’s left on the boat.
“I’m coming!” How many times do I need to say it?
I grab my pants and pull them on before opening the door. I should have covered Lenka, but I wasn’t thinking straight, and I didn’t expect the persistent knocker to be Harper.
“What?” I spit out as I see her standing there in a white summer dress.
“Danny, darling, we were just worried. You haven’t left your cabin.” She pushes past me and then sees Lenka lying on the bed naked. Her back’s showing, but it’s clear that she has nothing on from the waist down.
The look on Harper’s face is priceless.
She turns to me, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her eyes are brimmed with tears. “You really want to hurt me, don’t you?”
This shit doesn't work on me anymore. I’m not her boyfriend. Her fiancé. Her lover. She’s nothing to me.
“What? We split up three long years ago,” I remind her. “When are you going to get it through that thick skull that it’s over?”
She lifts up her hand. The ring. The one I spent weeks debating on the cut and design. There wasn’t a designer in town that wasn’t pitched with the job. The ring had to be perfect, just like the woman who was going to wear it. I had to get it right. She would be showing it to every fucking person in the world, and I didn’t want her humiliated with something that she wouldn't be proud of.
“When I get over this." Harper waves her hand in my face. "We were supposed to be getting married. Instead, you get some waitress and bring her here in front of all our friends.”
Now Lenka’s waking up. She’s pulling the sheets around her and trying to get to the bathroom. I don’t fucking blame her. I want to escape, too.
“Where are you going, bitch? You fucking whore!” Harper rushes past me in an attempt to get to Lenka.
What’s gotten into her? I knew she had rages, but she’s always been sneaky about them, and they have never happened in front of me. I grab her before she can reach Lenka.
“Get the fuck off of me!” She turns on me like a wildcat, scratching at me with her nails.
Lenka watches for a fraction of a second before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door.
Mom appears in the open doorway and shouts, “What the hell is going on?”
I lift Harper up and head for the door. “Mom, move!”
Mom steps aside to avoid Harper's kicking and flailing. She's rendered speechless by the scene in front of her, watching me carry Harper out of the suite while she screams, "You fucked the whore!” Harper's repeating the sentence over and over again. She's giving me a headache, and by the look of things, Mom, too. I can’t believe that I brought Lenka into this madness. Harper’s lost control. I should have made sure that she was thrown off the yacht before I ever boarded it.
When I set her down, Harper turns and tries to push her way back inside. Mom flanks my side, trying to peel Harper's fingers from the doorframe as I work to shut the door. The whole scenario reminds me of two people trying to escape from a blood-thirsty zombie.
Once I finish comforting Mom, I’ll get my security team to escort Harper off the yacht and make sure that she’s nowhere near the wedding. Then I’m going to give Lenka the money I agreed to pay her and tell her to leave. She’s only known me for a day, and she doesn’t deserve this shit.