The talk at the breakfast-table was all about last night’s fight. News soon spread, and by the light of day everyone knew about it.
Bianca was somewhat put out. She’d already told Luca that she didn’t want any drama on the trip, and now this had to happen. ‘You’ve got to do something,’ she’d informed Aleksandr the moment they got back to their stateroom the night before. ‘We can’t have our trip ruined by some stupid argument.’
‘I understand,’ he’d assured her. ‘It will be dealt with.’
Now it was morning and everybody was trying to figure out what was going on. Why were Hammond and Flynn such bitter enemies? And who was the ‘she’ Hammond had mentioned?
Bianca corralled Luca and gave him a blow-by-blow account of the fracas.
Luca wanted details. Bianca supplied what she knew.
Taye was upset that he’d missed the fight — or at least the knockout punch. Ashley wasn’t, she hated any kind of violence.
Jeromy was relieved that something else was taking centrestage. He and Luca had yet to have ‘the talk’. Somehow or other he’d managed to avoid it.
The previous night Hammond had retreated to his room with a burgeoning black eye only to find Sierra sleeping. They hadn’t spoken since their earlier confrontation, and when he awoke the next morning she was gone.
Xuan had attempted to calm Flynn down, but it wasn’t possible because he was boiling. He’d slept fitfully on the couch, and in the morning had headed straight to the gym, making a futile attempt to work off his raging aggression. He stayed there until Guy appeared and informed him that Mr Kasianenko would like to see him.
Guy was loving every minute of the goings-on. One day, when he wrote his tell-all book, this would make a fine chapter. Yes, it could go right next to the chapter about the garment tycoon who one year had rented a luxury yacht, filled it with hookers, and barely got them off the day his wife and children arrived. The crew had had to hustle that day.
Ah, fond memories of life at sea…
‘We missed all the excitement,’ Lori said to Cliff over breakfast.
He smiled at her across the table, white movie-star teeth in full bloom. ‘Maybe we’re lucky, sweetie. Wouldn’t want to get involved.’
‘Exactly,’ Ashley chimed in, pushing scrambled eggs across her plate. ‘I’m
‘Me too,’ said Lori, taking a bite of toast.
‘Does anyone know what it was all about?’ Ashley asked, curious to get the details.
Jeromy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Extremely childish, if you ask me. And most disrespectful to our host.’
‘What about your hostess?’ Bianca said, joining the table with Luca right behind her.
‘Naturally I meant you too,’ Jeromy said, wondering where the hell they’d been. He did not appreciate Luca running off with Bianca. Were they talking about him behind his back? He certainly hoped not.
‘I’m really glad there were no paparazzi around,’ Cliff said, reaching for the orange juice. ‘’Cause if there were, everything would’ve been
‘Or if it was the bloody
‘You’re both wrong,’ Bianca said grandly. ‘I can see the headlines now —
‘Aleksandr wasn’t involved, was he?’ Ashley asked innocently.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Bianca said, tossing back her long dark hair. ‘All they’re after is a headline to sell their story. Believe me, they like nothing better than putting my photo on the front page. Preferably in a bikini.’
‘She’s right,’ Luca agreed.
‘How positively juvenile!’ Jeromy said with a peevish toss of his head.
Mercedes listened to them all as she hovered near the table ready to serve. She’d already figured out what was going on. The day before, she’d eavesdropped on Flynn’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. Well, it didn’t take a genius to realize there was history there. The Senator had a hard-on against the journalist ’cause he figured the guy was out to fuck his wife. It was simple, only these
Late last night she’d sent her latest report to Cruz. He needed to know if she thought any of the guests would put up resistance. As far as she could tell, the journalist was the only one with balls, and she’d already checked that he had no weapons. The rest of them — easy street. Although she’d discovered that Aleksandr kept a loaded gun in his bedside drawer. And Kyril could be a slight problem — only slight, for Mercedes knew exactly how she would handle him when the time came.
After dinner the night before, she’d taken Kyril a mug of hot chocolate. She was working on a hunch that he might like it.
Right again. The big man had drunk it down, smacked his lips and informed her it was good. Then his beady eyes had inspected her cleavage once again, and she’d known she was on the right track.
Hot chocolate and a flash of tit. She had Kyril’s number.
‘Hey,’ Flynn said, walking out onto the private terrace of Aleksandr’s stateroom. ‘Nice digs.’
Aleksandr put down the sheaf of papers he was reading and nodded at Flynn. ‘I cannot blame you for last night.’ he said gruffly. ‘I also cannot condone what you did.’
Flynn didn’t give a damn what Aleksandr thought. If it wasn’t for Sierra he would have gotten off the yacht as soon as possible. But no, he wasn’t about to walk out of her life again, not until he knew exactly where they stood.
‘In Russia we toast with vodka, to make the peace,’ Aleksandr went on. ‘Is that possible?’
‘Sure,’ Flynn said, Hammond’s words still ringing in his ears.
Aleksandr buzzed for Guy. ‘Bring vodka and fetch the Senator,’ he ordered. ‘Now.’
As usual, Guy jumped. Last night’s activities certainly broke the monotony of being on a yacht. A bit of excitement was always welcome — sometimes things went along too smoothly.
Ten minutes later, Hammond appeared wearing dark shades and a scowl.
‘We put this nonsense to rest,’ Aleksandr stated firmly as Guy handed out shot glasses filled with vodka. ‘We toast to peace and harmony.’
Flynn threw his vodka back, as did Hammond. They hardly looked at each other. Hatred lingered in the air.
Aleksandr nodded sagely. ‘Today is the day for water sports,’ he said, standing up. ‘Come, gentlemen, we have many toys to play with.’
The day passed filled with a flurry of activities, including riding the Jet Skis and WaveRunners, water-skiing, and exploring the crystal-blue waters of the Sea of Cortez.
Everyone threw themselves into having fun, everyone except Jeromy, who claimed his English skin was far too delicate to be exposed to the elements.
‘C’mon, mate,’ Taye encouraged, climbing back on board after his third trip on a Wave Runner. ‘You dunno what you’re missin’. It’s fantastic.’
Jeromy rolled his eyes, indicating his lack of enthusiasm. ‘Oh, I think I do know what I’m missing,’ he said, with a supercilious smirk. ‘Extreme sunburn and aching muscles.’
‘Party-pooper,’ Taye said with a good-natured shrug.
Luca hauled himself aboard next, bronzed and beautiful as usual. ‘Another race?’ he said to Taye, shaking droplets of water from his mop of blond hair.
