Page 67 of Taming Scarlet

Namely, size.

And because of size, cost.

While supers could cost billions, they typically were in the highest end of millions. While most megas almost always cost in the billions.

Billions.

For a house on water that was used, what, a few weeks a year?

It was insane.

But as we pulled up to it, I had to admit that I was excited to see how ‘the other half lived.’ Or, ‘vacationed’ as it was.

“You can leave it,” Scarlet instructed as we stood there looking up at the yacht. “Believe me, the staff doesn’t mind,” she said, nodding her chin toward a row of people in black pants or skirts and white shirts.

“How many staff members are on board when you travel?” I asked, worried about not being able to spend time with Scarlet alone. When things were really getting good with her.

“Um, it depends, I guess. On what my father said he wanted. Sometimes, a masseur will be around. Or a personal trainer. But there is always the crew manning the ship itself. Captains, officers, and deckhands. A few engineers. Then the cabin staff. So… a chef or two, a butler, a stewardess, a maid. And usually a nurse or doctor, depending on availability.”

Christ.

That was a lot of people to have around.

“Where do they sleep?” I asked, glancing at all the tinted windows.

“The staff quarters. Two rooms—one for men and one for women—that have bunks and their own bathroom and tiny kitchenette. Relax,” she said, giving me a small smile. “Part of their job is to be scarce and invisible when anyone is clearly trying to have private moments. They know we all value our privacy. I have gotten away with many, many things over the years that my father never heard about.”

That was somewhat comforting, at least.

“And your room is near mine.”

“What about your father?”

“He’s strange. He likes to take the room at the bow. Which is much smaller than the other rooms, but he claims he sleeps better there. And… ugh,” she groaned, making me turn to follow her gaze to where her father was on one of the decks—was that the right word?—with another man at his side.

“Who is that?”

“Stephen Moore. The company’s CFO.”

“I take it you’re not a fan,” I said, watching her profile.

Normally, she was good at masking her true emotions. But her lip was curled when she glanced at Stephen Moore.

He seemed around her father’s age with mostly silver hair, a slender build, and a long face.

“Do me a favor,” she said, nipping her lip.

“Sure.”

“Don’t leave me alone with him. It always ends up in a screaming match. Then my father is furious with me for disrespecting someoneherespects so much. And it just gets ugly and tense when we’re all trapped together.”

Hm.

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Clearly, there was some sort of tension there. A long-running tension.

I would get the truth out of her eventually.

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