Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“This way,” he says to us. “You’re on the opposite end as Mr. Grayhawk. Unfortunately, his wife won’t be with us for our voyage. She sends her regards.”
I shoot Caius a questioning look, but he ignores me. Gritting my teeth, I follow him into our suite. Once the mustache man—whom I now know as Roberto after looking at his stitched name tag—leaves us to rest until the evening, I turn on Caius.
“Are you getting weird vibes?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I certainly am.”
Our luggage rests on top of the bed, ready to be unpacked. Caius, clearly over wearing the slippers, kicks them off and begins digging in his suitcase. I keep mine on because they’re comfortable.
“Don’t ignore me,” I huff out. “I’m serious. Behind all this lovely is something awful.”
Caius yanks a pair of leather dress shoes out of the suitcase before whirling on me. Fire burns hot in his dark gaze. I recoil from the intensity of it. With eyes locked on mine, he sets the shoes down and slides each foot into them. Then he prowls closer to me. I yelp when he grabs my jaw, dipping his head until our noses touch.
“You want to speak with Megan?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.
I can’t form words because his sudden change in personality has my voice box shriveling up, so I nod instead.
“Stop asking questions. Stop playing detective. Just fucking stop, little girl.”
Well, that’s not going to happen.
“I held it in,” I argue, finally finding my words. “I waited until we were alone. Don’t be a prick.”
He inhales deeply and then exhales slowly as if to calm his anger. Are his supposed “demons” about to make themselves known? Should I be fearing for my life right now?
Then, as if turning off a switch, Caius’s muscles relax and he affixes me with a cold, dead stare. He releases my jaw and starts for the door.
“Where are you going?” I demand. “Don’t leave me here by myself.”
“Lock the door behind me.”
My stomach tightens at his words. “Yeah, that was super comforting. Not going to freak out at all now,” I deadpan before gaping at him. “Are you serious right now?!”
His lips purse together and his eyebrows furl. I hold my breath, stupidly hoping he changes his mind. And what? Decides to hang out here with me instead? I don’t even like him.
“Freshen up,” he instructs, not looking at me. “Wear something sexy for dinner. Until then, take a nap. Rest. Look at your phone. I don’t care. Just don’t leave this room.”
He pulls my phone from his pocket and sets it on a table near the door. Without another look in my direction, he slips out the door of our suite. I rush over to the door and quickly lock it. It doesn’t make me feel any safer. Now that I’m alone, I take a minute to inspect the suite.
It’s big. Everything’s white and silver. Surprise, surprise. The most spectacular part of the room is the enormous wall of windows that overlooks a snow-covered deck and the dark gray, chaotic waters of Lake Erie. I unpack our suitcases and put our things away in the drawers and wall cabinets before stowing the suitcases in one of the cabinets. After a quick inspection of the en suite—cream and brown marbled counters and tub, a shocking twist from the yacht’s usual decor—I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring out onto the lake.
“This is Captain Spade speaking,” a deep, older voice states, coming through on a speaker within the suite. “We are about to depart despite the concerning weather. I’ve studied the alerts and warnings. I’m confident this vessel will handle all Mother Nature has in store for us as we go into the evening.”
Great.
Even the captain knows this is a bad idea, and yet here we are doing it anyway.
“It’s a chilly seventeen degrees outside,” he continues as the yacht begins to move. “We’re under a lake effect snow warning until seven a.m. tomorrow morning. For all you out-of-towners, this means our beloved Lake Erie, with the current freezing fog and five to fifteen knots wind conditions, is creating her own weather. Since this vessel is heated and stays moving, however, our chances of accumulating ice are minimal.” He pauses and chuckles. “I do hope, though, you’re able to experience seeing some of the beachfront houses that will no doubt be encased in ice.”
“Sounds lovely,” I mutter aloud. “Perfect weather for a boat ride.”
“Waves are currently one to three feet, but if conditions worsen, we could be looking at gale winds of upward of fifteen to twenty-five knots, which could produce waves of up to six feet.” He chuckles again because clearly he has no fear or is simply a sadist. “Don’t worry. If it worsens, we will dock at a marina for your safety. Water temperature is thirty-nine degrees. And, while above freezing, if you fall in…” Another dark laugh. “Well, don’t. It’s advised for you to stay indoors for the duration of our voyage.”