Page 10 of Shark Bait

I rub my belly. “Do you want to touch it?”

He blinks. “What I want is for you to answer the phone next time it rings.”

“I will.”

He jerks his head toward the living room. “Someone on your show is about to get canceled.”

I tilt my head and listen, gasping when I hear the TV. “You’re right.” I scurry out of the bedroom. In the living room, I stand in front of the screen with a hand on my hip. “Meredith snitched on India.” I plop onto the couch and grab my popcorn. “Gah, I missed it.”

Shark speaks from the bedroom. “You can rewind, you know.”

“I watch TV in real-time, smartass.”

“These are reruns.” He walks past me, and I turn to see him climbing the steps. I expect him to ascend to the deck, but I hear the lock click into place. I make sure I watch when he comes back, because I like how his athletic feet dance over the steps.

He walks past me.

I lean over the left edge of the couch to catch sight of him walking toward the rooms. He turns, does a double take, and stops.

“Do you need something?” he asks, eyebrow arched.

“Nah, I’m just checking out your ass.”

He chuckles, a sexy, masculine sound. “Good night, Lollipop Thief.”

“Good night, Shark Daddy.”

FIVE

REALLY?

WITNESS

Last night, I ended up watching my reality show until three in the morning. I couldn’t rest without finding out who won the million dollars and if Meridith, the snitch, got called out for her gaslighting.

She won. Go figure. Also, I’m never watching another one of these shows where mean people get rewarded.

But I guess that’s life, isn’t it?

I stretch out on the couch like my cat Tubby used to after sunbathing all morning by the window. It’s almost ten. If Fis let me sleep that long, it means he’s in a meeting, which means it’s Thursday. He has his meetings on Thursdays.

Oh, but I already know it’s Thursday, since now I’m allowed to watch television and check the date and time.

Why am I allowed to watch shows now?

Confused, I sit up and rub my face, trying to come to this morning, but I feel really tired from binging on TV last night. I plop back on the couch. The baby starts to kick, and I press my hand over the spot, imagining his little foot pushing against the wall surrounding it. I haven’t seen a doctor or anything, so I have no idea if it’s a boy or a girl, but I’m going with boy.

Not that it matters to me. All that matters is the months I’ve spent strengthening my resolve to keep him and call him mine.

Half asleep, I freeze when I see a man sitting across from me on the chair next to the couch, but quickly recognize it’s Shark when he smiles and offers me a cup of what smells like herbal tea.

“Good morning,” he says.

I rub my eyes as I sit back up and accept the offered cup. Chamomile tea. I identify the scent. I sip slowly, recalling yesterday’s events. Fis was in one of his agitated moods all day, mentioning that tomorrow’s (so today’s) videoconference was to take place early in the afternoon and that all phones and communications as well as sounds should be muffled. He asked for his crew to build him a fake room so it looks like he’s in one of the famous hotels and not the yacht.

His men started to make arrangements, but Fis kept trying to provoke a fight, and once I saw how violent he was becoming, I hid in the engine room. There was a small hole there that I’d crawled into before when his crew became violent toward each other or me. I’d hoped they would forget about me.

Most times it worked, but not all. Sometimes, the crew would remember, and they’d look for me, and I’d come out when they called for me. I didn’t want them to find my safe space.

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